The man opposite him had seen the expression on his face. “I guess they were out of filet mignon,” he said as he bit into his sandwich.
Fearful that dinner would not be any better, Alan forced himself to eat half of it. Also in the bag, compliments of the state of New Jersey, was a plastic bottle of water.
He was later moved to the commons area in the general population. About twenty inmates were seated on folding chairs watching CNN. Small groups were off to the sides playing chess, checkers and cards. Recreation time, Alan thought bitterly.
In the late afternoon they were marched into what passed for a dining room. He followed the lead of others who took a tray and a plate and walked past the servers who put scoops on their plates. The utensils were plastic.
He spotted a half-filled table where the inmates appeared to be near his age. They were exchanging stories about why they had been arrested. Two of them had been caught with heroin. Another was serving a drunk driving sentence, his third. They looked at him, obviously expecting to hear his story. “My girlfriend died in an accident. They’re blaming me.”
“Which judge you got?”
“I don’t know.”
After dinner they were herded back to the community room. One of the inmates who had been at the dinner table asked Alan, “You play chess?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said as he followed the other prisoner to a table. In the time he had been in the jail, it was the only hour that passed relatively quickly.
A few minutes after the game ended, the prisoners stood up and formed a queue along the wall. “Back to the cells,” Alan’s chess opponent announced. “See you tomorrow.”
The guard unlocked a cell and directed him into it. There were bunk beds along the left wall. A stainless steel toilet was in the right corner. A very small window overlooked the parking area behind the courthouse.
A man who appeared to be in his thirties, in the lower bunk, glanced at him as he came in, but then went back to whatever he was reading. Alan wanted to find out where he could get something to read, but he was too nervous to ask.
The top bunk was his, but Alan was uncertain about what to do. There was no ladder. In order to hoist himself up, he would have to put one foot on the lower bunk. Should I ask permission or just do it?
Better not to disturb him, Alan thought as he put a foot on the lower end of the bottom bunk and vaulted himself to the top. He waited apprehensively for a protest from below. There was none.
The mattress was thin and lumpy. The blanket and sheet had a strong smell of disinfectant.
Alan put his hands behind his head on the small pillow and stared at the ceiling. It was several hours before he fell asleep. It was a challenge to tune out the loud snoring emanating from the bunk beneath him.
He was startled awake by the sound of voices, footsteps and cell doors sliding open. Following a line of prisoners, he went to the same room where he had had dinner the previous evening, this time for breakfast.
He had just followed the procession to the recreation room when a guard barked, “Alan Crowley.”
Alan meekly raised his hand. “Let’s go,” the guard said, gesturing him to follow. He was led down a long corridor with doors on each side. Above each door was a plate that read ATTORNEY-CLIENT ROOM followed by a number. The guard opened the door to number 7. Alan spotted Lester Parker seated at the table, with his briefcase next to him. He took a chair opposite him.
“Alan, how are you doing?” Parker said as they shook hands.
“I’m undefeated in chess,” Alan said wryly.
Parker smiled. “I’ve spoken to the assistant prosecutor. We went over the charges against you. They’ll bring you into court tomorrow at eleven. I’ll be there.”
“After court tomorrow, will I be getting out of here?”
“I can’t say with certainty what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I’m going to make a strong argument that you be allowed to go home.”
“Will my parents be there, in court?”
“Yes, and they want you home just as much as you want to go home. I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember, talk to no one about your case.”
35
Word of Alan Crowley’s arrest had begun to spread in the afternoon. Aline saw students in their breaks between classes, at their lockers, staring down at their phones. NorthJersey.com had been the first to report the story. She picked up her phone, but then decided against calling her mother.
When she drove up the driveway a few minutes before six that evening, Steve pulled in right behind her. When they were both out of their cars, she said, “I am sure that Alan’s arrest will be on the television news tonight.”
Steve nodded. “Yes. I was thinking the same thing.”
As he opened the front door, Steve called, “Fran.”
“In here.”
Steve and Aline went to the den, where Fran had the TV on Channel 2. They watched in silence as the segment that had been on the five o’clock news was repeated.
Steve moved quickly to where Fran was sitting and put his arm around her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “In fact I’m . . .” She paused. “ ‘Glad’ is not the right word. I’ll never have real peace, but when Alan goes to prison, I’ll have some sense that justice has been served.”
“Mom,” Aline said, “remember, Alan’s only been accused of the crime. That doesn’t mean—”
Steve interrupted her. “They usually don’t arrest somebody until they’ve got the right guy and have enough to convict him.”
“Aline, why are you defending him?” Fran snapped. “He killed your sister, and then he lied about it.”
“Mom, Dad, please,” Aline said. “I’m not trying to start a fight. When Kerry and Alan were going out, they were constantly quarreling, breaking up and then getting back together. They repeated that cycle a bunch of times. But after they quarrel at Kerry’s party, this time he comes back to the house and kills her? I don’t know. It just doesn’t add up.”
“What doesn’t add up?” Fran said heatedly. “You know he lied about coming back to the house after the party.”
“I understand that, but listen to me. Kids who are barely eighteen are incredibly insecure. I work with them every day. They think they’re adults, but they’re not. When you confront them, they look for the easy way out, even if that means lying,” Aline said, her voice rising. “I’d be really nervous if a cop showed up today and took me in for questioning. I can only imagine how panicky I would have been ten years ago when I was eighteen.”
Fran was having none of it. “You can rationalize this as much as you want. I don’t care if he was a scared young kid. Alan Crowley killed Kerry, and he’s going to pay for it.”
“Fran, Aline,” Steve interrupted, “the last thing we need to do is quarrel with each other. The truth will come out at the trial.”
Fran had the last word. “At the trial when he’s found guilty, you mean.”
36
Alan was taken from the jail and escorted into the adjacent courthouse, where he appeared before a judge at about 11:30 A.M. The guards seated him next to a waiting Lester Parker.
His parents sat on one side of the courtroom, in the first row of the spectator seats. His mother gasped when she saw him in the orange jumpsuit. This time his hands were cuffed in front of him.
On the other side of the courtroom, in the front row, were Fran and Steve Dowling. When they made eye contact with him, he turned away.
The assistant prosecutor read the charges against him. Murder, possession of a weapon for an unlawful purpose—the golf club—and tampering with witnesses. The judge, a balding man with glasses pushed high on his forehead, turned to Lester Parker. “Counsel, how does your client plead?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor.”
Turning to the assistant prosecutor, the judge stated, “Your Office has moved to detain the defendant pending trial.”
The assistant prosecutor began, “Your Honor, the St
ate has a very strong case against Alan Crowley. Our investigation has revealed that he attended a party at the home of Kerry Dowling the night of her death and became extremely jealous when another young man spoke to her. We allege that later in the evening, after everyone else was gone, he returned and struck her in the back of the head with a golf club. She fell into the pool in the backyard of her home. Her family discovered her body in the pool the next morning. He lied to a detective regarding his whereabouts at the time of the crime and induced several friends to lie on his behalf. They have since admitted that they lied. He also lied about handling the golf club that evening, but it has his fingerprint on it.”
The assistant prosecutor continued. “Your Honor, we are seriously concerned about the risk of flight if he were released. He faces life in prison. He has already tampered with witnesses and could seek to do so again.”
Alan lowered his head and closed his eyes as he listened to the evil picture painted of him.
Parker’s response was loud and forceful. “Your Honor, my client has no record of any kind. He hasn’t even had a traffic ticket. He has no history whatsoever of violence. He has lived in the same house in Saddle River with his parents since he was born. He is their only child. He graduated from high school three months ago and is scheduled to begin college at Princeton within a few days. He has absolutely no resources of his own.”
Parker continued, “Your Honor, I have been provided with some of the investigative reports. The prosecutor failed to mention that there were no witnesses to the crime. He also failed to mention that there are at least two other unidentified fingerprints on the golf club. One of those fingerprints may belong to the perpetrator of this terrible crime.
“The reports also indicate that Kerry had had an encounter with a young man who had very recently stopped to help her change a flat tire. The victim told friends that this young man had bought the alcohol for her party but had become angry and aggressive with her when she declined his request to be invited to the party. This person has never been identified but should be considered a person of considerable interest in this investigation.
“Your Honor, we no longer have a bail system. You either detain the defendant or you don’t. It would be a travesty for him to spend a year or more in jail awaiting trial. We intend to vigorously defend against these charges. The State has no basis whatsoever for considering him to be a threat to anyone in the community or a flight risk.”
Solemnly, the judge reflected upon the arguments. “This is a difficult decision. The defendant is charged with a heinous crime. I consider most carefully the prosecutor’s arguments in support of detention. But defense counsel has also offered strong arguments. The defendant is eighteen years old. I do not believe he is a strong risk of flight. There is no evidence that he represents a threat to any specific person in the community. Counsel has argued that there are no witnesses to this crime and the evidence is circumstantial. Under all of these circumstances, I am entering the following order.
“The defendant is released under the following conditions. He is to wear an electronic monitoring bracelet at all times. He may not leave the state of New Jersey without the permission of this court. He is to live at his parents’ Saddle River address unless he is at college, which I note is in the state of New Jersey. He is to have no contact with the victim’s family.
“The defendant shall be taken back to the Bergen County Jail, where he will be fitted with the electronic bracelet and thereafter be released.”
Alan’s shoulders visibly slumped in relief. Parker put his arm on his shoulder and whispered, “Okay, Alan. Go home and get some rest. I will call you tomorrow. Remember, aside from your parents, talk to no one about your case.”
To avoid an encounter between the families, the Sheriff’s Department allowed the Dowling family to leave first. Once they were on the elevator, the Crowleys got up to go.
37
A distraught and angry June Crowley drove home with Doug and Alan. It had taken nearly two hours after the arraignment to have Alan returned to the Bergen County Jail and then processed out. On the way to Saddle River, Alan closed his eyes as though he were asleep. There was zero conversation during the twenty-five-minute ride. They were all hungry. Doug and June had barely had any breakfast, and except for cups of coffee at the courthouse, they hadn’t eaten since early morning. Alan had been so nervous before the arraignment that he hadn’t eaten a bite of the jail breakfast.
Together they walked into the kitchen and were glad to see that Brenda had an early dinner prepared. As usual, she had the small kitchen TV on while she worked. They all froze when they heard the name “Crowley” and looked up at the set. On screen was Alan, handcuffed and in the orange jumpsuit, being led into the courthouse. The reporter was saying, “Alan Crowley, the boyfriend of murdered teen Kerry Dowling, was in court this morning.
“He was arraigned before Judge Paul Martinez on charges of murder, possession of a weapon for an unlawful purpose, and witness tampering. He pleaded not guilty. After being fitted with an electronic bracelet, he was released into the custody of his parents.
“June Crowley, the mother of the accused, spoke to me on camera after the arraignment.”
“There is no way in the world my son committed this crime. He loved Kerry. The only reason he went back to her house the night of her party was to help her clean up and make sure she was all right. The police scared the hell out of a kid who had just turned eighteen. They snatched him from our home on a Sunday morning when my husband and I were not home, drove him to the Prosecutor’s Office, interrogated him and intimidated him into lying. And now they’re saying because he lied, he must have killed her.”
She was interrupted by a visibly annoyed Lester Parker, who took June’s arm and physically moved her away from the microphone. He stated firmly, “A vigorous defense will be mounted on behalf of Alan Crowley. When all the facts are known, he will be vindicated. There will be no further statements from the Crowleys before the trial.”
An awkward silence followed when the news station moved on to the next story.
Brenda said, “The meatloaf, vegetables and potatoes just need to be warmed.” She gave Alan a sympathetic smile. “I’ll let you eat in peace,” she said as she hurried toward the door.
38
Marge and Jamie were having dinner in the kitchen when Marge turned on the television to get the six o’clock news. The lead story was the arraignment of Alan Crowley. She watched as Alan, pale and tense, left the courthouse with photographers and reporters chasing after him.
“That’s Alan Crowley,” Jamie said.
“I didn’t know you knew Alan,” Marge said.
“He’s Kerry’s friend, before she went to Heaven.”
“Yes, he is.”
“He kisses her.”
“Yes, he does,” Marge said.
“He kissed her before she went swimming and went to Heaven.”
“Jamie, are you talking about the night of Kerry’s party, when you went swimming with her?”
“I promised not to talk about that.”
“This time it’s okay, Jamie. What did Alan do after he kissed Kerry?”
“He gave her a hug and went home.”
“Then what happened, Jamie?”
“The Big Guy hit Kerry and he pushed her in the pool.”
“Jamie, are you sure?”
“Cross my heart. Daddy used to call me Big Guy, right, Mom?”
“Yes, Jamie, that’s right. But remember, we don’t talk to anybody about what happened the night Kerry went to Heaven. That’s our secret.”
“Cross my heart, Mom. I didn’t tell anyone.”
Following his usual routine, after dinner Jamie went upstairs to watch television. Heavy hearted, Marge stayed at the kitchen table and made herself another pot of tea. She was starkly aware of what Jamie had told her. If Jamie was describing what he saw the night Kerry was killed, then Kerry was still alive when Alan left. Might Alan have come back a
nd killed Kerry? I guess that’s possible, she thought, but why would he do that? The Big Guy Jamie is referring to clearly is not Alan. But who is it?
If Jamie talks about the Big Guy to the detective, and Jamie tells him Jack used to call him the Big Guy, they might assume he was talking about himself. I can only imagine how the Crowleys are feeling right now. How would I feel if Jamie got arrested? He’d be so frightened. I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know what to do.
39
Detective Mike Wilson had not been able to put his mind at rest. He was deeply distressed that he had not been to able tie up a troubling loose end in the investigation.
He had virtually no information that would lead them to the man who had sold Kerry the beer and then tried to force himself on her. According to Kerry’s friend who had told him about the incident, he had suggested meeting Kerry at her house after the party was over.
Suppose he had come over after Alan left. He had already been aggressive with Kerry. If she refused him again, might he have become violent?
There was one way they might possibly get a lead on him.
The next day Mike called Aline at work. “Aline, even though Alan has been charged, I still need to do a few things to complete the investigation, and you might be able to help me.”
“Of course,” Aline said.
“I’d like to meet and talk to you quietly for a few minutes.”
“Sure. Do you want to come to the house?”
“No. This is a conversation I would rather have with you alone.”
“When do you have in mind?”
“By any chance are you free tonight?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’d like to get a little away from Saddle River, where we both could be recognized.”
They agreed to meet at a diner on Old Hook Road in Westwood.
I've Got My Eyes on You Page 9
