Brandi hunches over and starts to weep, uncontrollably, as wave after powerful wave of emotion crashes over her.
Shock. Disbelief. Horror. Denial. Outrage. Despair.
If only she had called me! Brandi thinks. If only we were still friends! I could have told her to stay away from Mark, I could have warned her! He was dangerous! I could have told her to run the other way!
Brandi cries even harder as a new emotion overcomes her.
Guilt.
“It was supposed to be me!” she howls, tears streaming. “Oh, Jessica! I’m so sorry! It was supposed to be me!”
Chapter 29
The next day
Mark Rogowski tugs at his itchy, ill-fitting, navy-blue prisoner’s jumpsuit. It’s a far cry from the stylish duds he’s used to wearing. Slouching in the uncomfortable wooden chair, he drums his fingers on the splintery table.
Soon the jail conference-room door opens—and in waddles one of the strangest-looking defense lawyers Mark has ever seen.
Short and rotund, bald on top with a slight mullet, the man appears to be in his thirties. But he’s wearing a loud maroon tie and a tan, threadbare, wide-lapeled suit that went out of style during the Nixon administration. He’s carrying a bulging briefcase and a black motorcycle helmet emblazoned with the Harley-Davidson logo.
Mark gulps. This is his court-appointed public defender—the only lawyer he was able to get—and the guy doesn’t inspire much confidence.
“Mr. Rogowski? I’m John Jimenez,” the man barks. “And I’m the only thing standing between you and a needle in your arm. So let’s get started.”
“Wait—what? Are you serious, dude? Is that really what I’m looking at?!”
“The DA hasn’t said yet what sentence they’re seeking. And in the end, it’s up to the judge to decide—if you’re found guilty. But here’s the situation.”
Jimenez opens his briefcase and starts sifting through files.
“In addition to charging you with kidnapping, rape, use of a deadly weapon, and first-degree murder, the state is trying to add what’s called special circumstances. They’re saying you killed the victim during commission of the rape. Sounds like a minor technicality, right? Wrong. If the judge lets it stand, prosecutors could ask for life without parole…or the death penalty. And they just might get it.”
This revelation hits Mark hard.
He’s made peace with the fact that he’ll likely be facing decades behind bars. Maybe even the rest of his life. But he’s okay with that. Part of him even welcomes it. As Augie counseled him, he committed a heinous crime and must atone for his sins. Mark’s plan is to serve his time thoughtfully. Spiritually. Studying scripture and witnessing to his fellow inmates.
But execution? That never crossed his mind.
“Okay,” Mark says quietly. “I get it. So…what do we do?”
For the next ninety minutes, Jimenez lays out a number of possible defenses.
To begin with, he wants to challenge the validity and admissibility of Mark’s confession. Jimenez argues that as Mark’s minister, Augie broke his sacred obligation when he drove Mark to the police station and essentially turned him in. Jimenez also says that Augie, by acting as his informal legal adviser, gave Mark misguided advice when he allowed him to speak to the cops without a lawyer present. And the so-called confession, according to Jimenez, is full of leading questions and half-truths. If the judge agrees, the whole thing could be tossed out.
Second, Jimenez wants to cast doubt on the rape itself. Jessica’s body is so badly decomposed that he wants to argue there’s no way to prove that a forcible sexual assault occurred. With no confession and no physical evidence, the rest of the DA’s case could start to look flimsy to a jury, too. At least that’s the hope.
Mark listens to his lawyer, resting his chin on tented fingers. He understands the strategy, but he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the idea of going to trial at all—of being judged by twelve flawed mortals like himself.
“What about…some kind of plea deal?” he asks. “Instead of fighting the truth, what if I take responsibility for my actions, and beg for mercy and forgiveness? I believe that’s what Christ would want me to do. It’s what I believe he’d do himself.”
Jimenez leans back and folds his arms.
“I don’t think Jesus would ever find himself in the kind of situation you’re in, pal. But I hear what you’re saying. And you’re the defendant. Not me. I can talk to the DA’s office about a plea, give it a shot. But no guarantee they’ll say yes.”
“I understand,” Mark says. “I trust you, Mr. Jimenez. But I trust God more.”
Chapter 30
March 6, 1992
All rise! Vista Superior Court is now in session, the Honorable Thomas J. Whelan presiding.”
Mark Rogowski, John Jimenez, and the rest of the courtroom stand at attention as the judge—distinguished and grandfatherly, with neatly styled white hair—enters and takes his seat on the bench.
Judge Whelan flashes a compassionate smile.
But the mood inside his court today couldn’t be more tense.
From the lawyers sitting before him, to the Bergsten family in the front row, to the mix of spectators, journalists, and young, rowdy, vibrantly dressed skateboarding fans who have packed the remainder of the gallery, everyone seems on edge.
It doesn’t help that Judge Whelan has ordered five additional uniformed bailiffs to stand sentry around the room, on high alert, to keep order if an altercation breaks out.
The bailiffs have searched every bag and waved handheld metal detectors up and down every single individual entering the gallery that morning—a very unusual move for this normally sleepy, suburban court.
But Judge Whelan believes there is good reason to be cautious.
The federal investigation involving a client of Stephen Bergsten, Jessica’s father, is ongoing, and the court has received a tip that Stephen, who is under enormous stress, might be planning to try to physically harm Mark today—the man who brutally raped and murdered his daughter.
Hence the beefed-up security and highly charged atmosphere.
It is against this backdrop that Judge Whelan gavels the sentencing hearing to order.
“I understand, counsel, that both sides have reached an agreement?”
San Diego deputy district attorney Gregory Walden, boyishly handsome, with dusty blond hair and the decorous demeanor of an Eagle Scout, rises and nods.
“We have, Your Honor. Given the defendant’s guilty plea, the state has agreed to drop its filing of special circumstances.”
Mark visibly sighs with relief. He may very well still die in prison, but at least it won’t be by execution.
“We hereby request, however,” Walden continues, “that the defendant be given the maximum allowable sentence for his crimes: six years for forcible rape, plus twenty-five years to life for first-degree murder, to be served consecutively, without the possibility of parole.”
Jimenez rises to respond—and ask for leniency. He requests that the judge consider running Mark’s sentences concurrently, with the possibility of parole.
Then he adds, “When my client has the opportunity to give his statement, I urge the court to take note of his remorse and consider showing even greater mercy.”
Stoically, Judge Whelan moves on to this next phase of the proceedings.
A hush falls over the courtroom as Mark stands alone and faces forward.
Three bailiffs subtly move into position, standing between him and Stephen Bergsten, who is sitting just a few yards to Mark’s rear.
His hands cuffed behind his back, Mark speaks slowly and solemnly.
“Your Honor…God has changed me. And it was no typical jailhouse conversion. I’ve only gotten but a glimpse of the Bergsten family’s sorrow, I’m sure. I sincerely hope that they can accept my apology for my carelessness.”
Mark takes a moment to collect himself, and then continues.
“I’m sorry to Jessica. No one deserves to ha
ve a dearly loved one taken. I never wanted Jessica to die. And I am…deeply sorry.”
Mark hangs his head and sits.
He avoids looking backward at Stephen, but everyone in the courtroom can sense the white-hot rage radiating off the victim’s father.
“Carelessness?!” Stephen exclaims, leaping to his feet when it’s his turn to speak. “That monster is apologizing for his carelessness?! He is a child murderer and child rapist. He is evil incarnate!”
Beet red and trembling, Stephen is just getting warmed up.
He goes on to deliver a fiery, impassioned monologue that lasts over twenty minutes.
“Cowards die a thousand times…and he will die a thousand deaths! He raped her and raped her and raped her…and then thought, Let’s kill her!”
Nearing the end of his oration, Stephen starts getting choked up, his wrath displaced by a bottomless sorrow.
“We…We couldn’t say good-bye to Jessica…because that filth left her,” her father manages. “Left her for the coyotes and the goddamn birds to eat her.”
Stephen wipes his eyes and nose.
“He says he’s undergone a religious conversion? Judge, you must have heard that same story a hundred times. If he underwent a religious conversion, it was to evil, degradation, filth, and satanism!”
The courtroom murmurs with emotion as Stephen takes his seat.
Even Mark, so cool and collected throughout most of the hearing, flicks away a tear as it rolls down his cheek.
It barely seems to register with Mark when Judge Whelan announces his sentence.
Perhaps Mark is already at peace with whatever it is, having faith he’ll get the punishment he deserves.
Either in this life or the next.
Epilogue
December 10, 2019
Thirty-one years to life.
That was the sentence Mark Rogowski was given by the court. By his calculation, that means he can expect to be locked up here at Donovan State Prison in rural, southern San Diego County until at least 2023.
True, he was given the possibility of parole. But thus far, that possibility has seemed increasingly remote. Mark’s petition has been rejected by the state parole board not once but twice. First in 2011, and again in 2016.
Today, he’s hoping the third time’s the charm.
Shackled and dressed in the same style of navy-blue prisoner’s jumpsuit he wore at his initial sentencing, Mark is led into the conference room by a skinny, baby-faced corrections officer. The CO looks to be in his mid-twenties—around the same age Mark was when he was first incarcerated.
Mark is now fifty-three. Wrinkles and crow’s feet line his once youthful, handsome face. He’s lost most of the hair on his crown; what’s left is closely shaved and largely gray. He’s grown a neatly trimmed gray beard as well. Compared to his appearance during his bad-boy fashion model days, he’s barely recognizable.
But the biggest difference in Mark’s appearance is how he carries himself.
Gone is his manic energy. His wild jumpiness. The rebellious exuberance that made “Gator” the poster child of vert skateboarding counterculture for years.
In his middle age, Mark has become contemplative. Quiet. Almost monkish.
He shuffles to the table and quietly takes his seat across from the stern-faced parole board members: two men, one woman.
“Good morning, inmate Rogowski,” intones the official sitting in the middle.
“Good morning, sir,” Mark answers respectfully.
“I’d like to start by reminding you of the purpose of today’s preliminary hearing. This panel has been convened to review your parole request and make a recommendation to the full California state board. They will have 120 days to finalize a decision. If they approve your request, your case will go to the governor’s office. He will have thirty days to review the decision—and if he chooses to, he can reverse it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. Let’s begin.”
For the next half hour, the board questions Mark about his crime, his feelings toward it, his experiences in prison, and his plans for the future if he’s paroled.
Mark reiterates that he takes full and sole responsibility for assaulting, raping, and murdering Jessica Bergsten. He expresses vast remorse for his actions, and feels bottomless sympathy for the pain he has inflicted on her family.
“I’m disgusted with what I did,” he says somberly. “I think about it every day. I took everything from that poor family. They have every right to be angry with me. I want to make it go away, but I can’t.”
Mark then explains how, over the past twenty-seven years he’s spent behind bars—more than half his entire life—he has tried to learn from his mistakes and grow as a person. He’s earned a bachelor’s degree. Taken vocational courses. Become a certified paralegal. He has also continued studying scripture, while supplementing his religious readings with self-help literature.
He says that above all, he has developed much greater control over his emotions. He feels far less anger and has much more patience. A lot less hate and way more love.
In short, Mark argues to the panel, he is a completely changed man, ready to be granted release and prepared to become a contributing member of society again.
The parole board members listen attentively yet impassively to Mark’s words. They nod occasionally. Scribble notes. Once their questioning is complete, they lean in and briefly confer with one another.
Mark holds his breath. Shuts his eyes. And prays.
As he waits to hear their decision, he considers the unbelievable twists and turns that brought him to this point. From a life of fame and glory on the half-pipe, to nearly losing his life in a drunken accident, to giving it fully to Jesus, to callously taking another.
“Inmate Rogowski, it is the recommendation of this panel that your petition for parole…be approved…and sent to the full state board for review. Good luck to you.”
After so many years behind bars spent reflecting on his former fame and glory, regretting his literal and figurative great fall, contemplating his terrible crimes, and begging for forgiveness, today Mark is one step closer to freedom. To being given a second chance.
Whether or not he deserves it, however, is a question that Mark knows can be answered only by God.
Or by Gavin Newsom. Four months later, in April 2020, California governor Newsom reverses the parole board’s decision, denying Mark Rogowski parole and citing his continued “unreasonable danger to society” and need to gain “a deeper understanding” of his crime.
Mark remains in prison, awaiting his next parole eligibility. And still praying for the second chance he never gave to Jessica Bergsten.
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About the Authors
James Patterson is the world’s bestselling author and most trusted storyteller. He has created many enduring fictional characters and series, including Alex Cross, the Women’s Murder Club, Michael Bennett, Maximum Ride, Middle School, and I Funny. Among his notable literary collaborations are The President Is Missing, with President Bill Clinton, and the Max Einstein series, produced in partnership with the Albert Einstein Estate. Patterson’s writing career is characterized by a single mission: to prove that there is no such thing as a person who “doesn’t like to read,” only people who haven’t found the right book. He’s given over three million books to schoolkids and the military, donated more than seventy million dollars to support education, and endowed over five thousand college scholarships for teachers. For his prodigious imagination and championship of literacy in America, Patterson was awarded the 2019 National Humanities Medal. The National Book Foundation presented him with the Literarian Award for Outstanding Service to the American Literary Community, and he is also the recipient of an Edgar Award and nine Emmy Awards. He lives in Florida with his family.
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Andrew Bourelle is the author of the novel Heavy Metal and coauthor with James Patterson of Texas Ranger. His short stories have been published widely in literary magazines and fiction anthologies, including The Best American Mystery Stories.
Max DiLallo is a novelist, playwright, and screenwriter. He lives in Los Angeles.
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