Fire Lover (2002)

by Wambaugh, Joseph

  Rucker asked, "What do you think the effect on your daughters would be if John was executed?"

  "Oh, I hate to even think . . . Carrie will be totally and absolutely devastated. Lori will have a very difficult time trying to explain to her son what happened to his grandfather. I ... I don't know exactly."

  "You understand that, given his convictions, he's going to be sentenced to prison for the rest of his life, unless the jury decides that he should be executed. You understand that?"

  "Yes, I do," she said. "But at least we can have contact with him. Talk to him. Write to him. Include him in what's happening with the family. I mean, he ... he would still be around to have contact with."

  Sandra Flannery always got the job of confronting the female witnesses, and she did it again. "A few months after he started his job with the Glendale Fire Department, was there an event that precipitated your divorce?"

  "He decided that he wanted to leave and have a divorce," said the witness.

  "And how did you learn that?"

  "He packed and left."

  "And you came home one day and he was just gone?"

  "Um-hmm," the witness said. "With no notice. He left a note and phoned me a day or two later."

  "And is it correct to say he left you with no money?"

  "Well, yeah, I ... I guess. I had no job. I mean, I had the two girls, but he did send me money and take care of my rent and so forth, as soon as he contacted me a couple days later."

  "And were you nonetheless forced to go on welfare?"

  "A few months after that, yes. I didn't want to leave my young children at home and get a job right away. And it gave me time to think about . . . figure out what I needed to do. So, yes."

  "And as your daughters were growing up, who attended the parent-teacher conferences?"

  "I pretty much did that on my own," said the witness. "I'm not sure if John attended any or not. He may have attended a few. I don't even know if my second husband attended any or not. I pretty much did those on my own."

  "Shortly after John Orr left you, did he remarry?"

  "I would say that it was about a year after."

  "And do you know who he remarried?"

  "I know her name."

  "And by any chance do you know what part of Los Angeles she lived in?"

  "Absolutely not," the witness said.

  Sandra Flannery took the witness through John Orr's last two marriages, so the jury would know of his inconstancy, and then asked the same question about her husband's advising his daughters to live in an apartment with fire sprinklers. The reason that the prosecutor had mentioned sprinklers on two occasions was to remind the jury that other people's children had not had the benefit of sprinkler protection, that the part of Ole's that burned did not have a sprinkler system, and that perhaps the fire setter had been well aware of that.

  It was an obscure reference, the talk about sprinklers, but these warrior prosecutors would never let a bullet go unspent. They just had to keep firing until their barrels melted down, and then they'd draw bayonets for the coup de grace.

  When Ed Rucker called John Orr's mother to the stand, the judge said to the elderly woman, "You can pull the microphone up and speak loudly into it."

  But she declined, saying, "I got a big booming voice anyway."

  Ed Rucker had her introduce family photographs, and asked her to describe the scenes depicted in them. She told the court how, as a boy, her son John had taken a younger mentally handicapped boy under his wing and shown him every kindness. She told how hard he'd worked while in high school, making extra money and helping his older brothers with loans.

  Like the others, she said that if her son was sentenced to prison for life, she'd visit him and write to him. "Whatever I have to do to be with him," she said.

  The last defense witness was John Orr's daughter Carrie, who told the court that she was twenty-seven years old and married.

  Giannini asked her, "How did you react when your dad was arrested?"

  "It was a huge shock that came out of nowhere," she said. "I don't know, just complete shock. I mean, I wanted to know what was going on. What happened. Where did this come from?"

  "How do you think it would affect you if they decided to give him the death penalty?"

  "It would be horrible!" the witness said. "I mean, I'd lose my dad. I don't know . . .

  I don't know how ... I mean, even though I hardly see him now because of the situation, I would never be able to see him again!"

  "So is there anything else you'd like to say to this jury?" Giannini asked. "Anything at all?"

  And the distressed young woman said a wiser thing that day than lawyers in that courtroom had said for many days: "I don't know really what to say. I don't know"

  Chapter 22

  THE DEBATE

  With the courtroom now full of lawyer-spectators wanting to hear the death debate, exhausted jurors met on Monday, July 6, to listen to arguments about whether John Orr should be sentenced to life without parole or suffer execution. But not before they got to hear another defense witness, Ronald Markman, M. D., whose book Mike Cabral had studied on a houseboat vacation when everyone else had been having a good time. The psychiatrist specialized in forensic psychiatry, and by his own estimation had evaluated two to three thousand people in homicide cases. In response to Peter Giannini's questions, he testified that he'd seen John Orr on three occasions and had formulated a working psychiatric diagnosis.

  "And what is that diagnosis?" Giannini asked.

  "Well, there is an access to diagnosis of an obsessive-compulsive personality disorder," the witness said. "And assuming that the behaviors for which he's charged are correct, a diagnosis of pyromania."

  Giannini asked, "About obsessive compulsive personality disorder, in Mr. Orr's case, how does that manifest itself?"

  "He's a very meticulous guy," the witness said, "who has very very controlled, constructed views of issues. He's very, very demanding of others and of himself. He's interested in crossing every t and dotting every j."

  After discussing psychiatric terms and citing examples of the disorder, he continued, "Obsessing is a thinking process. It's a thought focus. Compulsive behavior is a component of obsession, but they're psychiatrically different. As you think and obsess about something, you elevate or increase your anxiety level. And people can only tolerate an optimal level of anxiety, if I can use that term."

  "Then what happens?"

  "Then they either have to do something or they deteriorate."

  "Tell us a little bit about pyromania," Giannini suggested.

  "It is one of the diagnostic categories in the statistics manual," said the witness. "Pyromania is the underlying requirement or need to set fires."

  Dr. Markman said that male fire setters outnumber females overwhelmingly, and that some studies have put it at nine to one. He said that there are three categories of pyros, the first being the crazies who have to save the world, the second being those with a need for revenge or profit, and the third being those who set fires in order to dissipate internal anxiety.

  "Is there an evil intent in the setting of fires for those in the third category?" Giannini asked.

  "No," the witness said. "There's no consciousness or willingness to either injure people or destroy property. The goal is to have the fire. The fire is the goal. Unfortunately, fire consumes."

  "So that leads to the obvious question," Giannini said. "Is Mr. Orr, for example, able to control his fire-starting compulsion?"

  "Well, Mr. Orr is not psychotic," said Dr. Markman. "If he had anxiety that was intolerable, and he had the need to act to dissipate the anxiety, and that need was based on setting a fire, if a policeman were right there, he wouldn't set a fire. However, ultimately he would have to set a fire."

  "Did you find any indications of early childhood symptoms of pyromania?" asked Giannini.

  "He did talk of match playing. We see that in children, overwhelmingly in boys. Much of it has to do with
unresolved parental conflicts."

  The witness said that the conflict usually involves father identification when boys are no longer competing for their mother's affections. In case of childhood fire setting, people don't seem to get concerned because the fires are usually set in garbage cans. He finished by saying that the controlled environment of a jail relieves the fire setter of his anxiety.

  When Cabral cross-examined, he elicited an opinion that pyromania affects less than 1 percent of the population, and was told that the defendant had only admitted to childhood match playing, not to childhood fire setting.

  "Who gave you information about him setting some fires after he was tracked?" Cabral asked.

  "Well, Mr. Orr's position on all three visits was that he did not set any of these fires. So the information came in discussions with Mr. Giannini and Mr. Rucker."

  "And Mr. Orr says even the fire where they found his fingerprint, he didn't set?" Cabral asked.

  "That's correct."

  "Even the fires he pled guilty to? He maintains he's innocent?"

  "He said that that was done as a result of a plea bargain. He felt that he was somewhat undercut in terms of the plea bargain that was given."

  "Have there been a lot of studies on the course of treatment for pyromaniacs?"

  "Not really," the witness said, "because of the limitation in the treatment population and the longevity required to treat. These are long-standing problems and have to be dealt with over years."

  "We really don't know whether or not it's treatable at all?"

  "It is treatable. Can you cure someone of it? You could probably get to the point where he can control the impulse, and maybe convert that symptom into something else that would be more socially tolerable."

  "Did you review anything else?"

  "Oh, yes. I reviewed his novel. And I did have his report from the city of Los Angeles with regard to his psychological testing when he'd applied to get on the police force."

  "And he talked to you about that? His rejection by the LAPD?"

  "That to me was a significant event in his life."

  "He's still disturbed by that even today?"

  "He denies it, but I believe he is."

  On redirect, Giannini asked, "Given the history and diagnosis of pyromania, and the reasons for it being the release of anxiety, what would admitting to having set fires mean in terms of his psychological balance?"

  "Oh, my, it would be devastating! It would destroy the orderliness of his life. It would demonstrate to him that he's been a failure all of his life."

  While the jury was out, the lawyers and the judge haggled over yet more prosecution witnesses that Cabral wished to call, women John Orr had dated between or during marriages.

  One of them, who'd worked for the city of Glendale, was called for the purpose of demonstrating that the defendant's propensity for fire setting was not restricted to the compulsive variety described by the psychiatrist. With certain legal parameters specified, the judge said he might allow her testimony, but wanted to hear what she had to say, so she was called while the jury was out of the courtroom.

  She testified that her relationship with John Orr had begun one month before the Ole's fire, and at the time she'd owned a Chevrolet Camaro.

  Cabral asked her, "What did you tell the defendant about your car?"

  "Just that it was a pain," she said. "That it was overpriced, and I wished I'd never bought it."

  "And in response to that did he say anything to you?"

  "We were discussing how vehicle fires can be conceived as an accident, that if I didn't want my car he could take care of it. Just never to ask any questions."

  "Did he explain how a fire could be set and not detected?"

  "Yes, he did. Taking paper towels and putting them underneath the dashboard and setting them on fire. It would be determined to be an electrical problem."

  "What happened after that?"

  "Nothing. I never discussed it again. It was never an option in my mind."

  Ed Rucker asked one question: "Did Mr. Orr ever say to you that he would burn your car?"

  "No," she said.

  Rucker then argued to the court that John Orr had not offered to commit an act of force or violence, that there were no steps taken to burn the car, and that this testimony was not proper rebuttal to anything that the defense had brought up.

  The judge did not agree that the defendant had not made an offer to burn the car. Cabral argued that it was rebuttal to Dr. Markman's testimony regarding compulsive fire setting, saying that burning for profit was a whole different matter. The judge decided that her testimony would be allowed.

  Then the judge wished to hear from another ex-girlfriend of John Orr, this one a former police officer, who took the stand with obvious discomfort.

  When asked by Cabral, "Did you have a relationship with John Orr?" she answered, "I did."

  "Do you see that person in court today?" Cabral asked.

  "It's been twenty years," she answered, looking at the defense table. "I think that's John right over there."

  The witness testified that she'd dated the defendant for about six months, and then Cabral asked, "Did you discuss with him events surrounding his application to the Los Angeles Police Department?"

  She said, "I believe he mentioned that he had applied, and was not offered a job. But I don't really remember why."

  "Did he explain to you anything about how he felt about that event?" Cabral asked.

  "He seemed quite disappointed," she replied.

  "Did he seem angry at being rejected?"

  "It has been twenty years," she said.

  "Did the defendant ever tell you during this relationship how he felt in relation to police officers?"

  "I seem to recall that he felt like he was smarter than the average cop." Then she said, "And he probably is."

  "Did he ever do anything that you considered to be playing games to get away with things?"

  "Whenever we would meet on duty, he would like to kiss me while I was in uniform, which I was very uncomfortable with because we were not supposed to do it. But he would kiss me on duty. It didn't happen often, a very few times."

  "Anything else like that?" Cabral asked.

  And at last, the courtroom rail birds were going to get a chance to hear something titillating. About John Orr getting his mongoose milked by an honest-to-God cop. In full uniform. In a place where they could both get caught and fired. The risk! The symbolism of it all!

  But what did the rail birds get-those poor old pensioners who wander the courts, clickety-clacking when they whisper because they can't afford Fixodent? What did they get?

  "Are you referring to an incident in the basement of the firehouse?" she asked Cabral.

  And of course, he was. But Mike Cabral faltered and said, "No, I'm not."

  And the judge, knowing full well what had gone on in the firehouse basement, proved Cabral's trepidation was well grounded by saying, "We're not."

  Cabral forged on halfheartedly: "Did you feel that the defendant had the attitude that he was going to do things to get away with it, and pull the wool over the eyes of the police department?"

  "I seem to have the impression that he had that kind of attitude. John is a very bright man, and I believe he knew it."

  "Did you form some conclusions about the defendant's behavior?"

  "I think he has some sociopathic tendencies, but I am not an expert witness on sociopaths," she replied.

  "Did you find him to be manipulative during your relationship?"

  "Yes."

  "And how would that show itself?"

  She said, "It's been so long, Mr. Cabral. I really can't come up with any examples."

  Gathering his courage for one last try, Cabral asked, "Other than the basement incident?"

  "I am sorry?" she said, not quite hearing him.

  "Other than the basement incident?" he repeated, louder.

  "Yes," was all she said.

  And M
ike Cabral's yin and yang must have been fighting the impulse to yell: "Yes, girl, the basement incident. Spit it out. Why do you think we flew you here? The goddamn basement incident!"

  But Cabral uttered a plaintive: "I have no further questions, Your Honor." And he gave up.

  The judge was not impressed that this witness had demonstrated anything relevant regarding John Orr's alleged need to strike back at law enforcement, so he said, "I don't think you have made it, Mr. Cabral. I will sustain the objection by the defense. Thank you."

  "I am free to leave?" the witness asked, relieved that she was not going to be made to tell the world what she'd told Cabral about "manually manipulating" him in the basement of that firehouse, about the weasel whacking from a real cop in a real uniform, wearing a real police shield, not a bogus badge like the one he'd carried as a Sears security officer.

  As she was walking by the counsel table John Orr gave her a wave and mouthed: "Thank you." And she got outraged!

  She waited outside the corridor for Cabral, and demanded to go back on the stand and tell everyone about the "incident in the basement." How dare he think she'd slanted her testimony for him!

  "Too late," Cabral told her. Too late. Too freaking late.

  Then the Glendale city employee was called, and told the jury the same story to which she'd testified out of their presence about the inferred offer to torch her car for insurance money.

  Rucker didn't bother to cross-examine her, and the people at last rested. But then the four lawyers and the judge haggled over jury instructions, variations of those the jury had already heard. And they went on and on about mitigating factors, and aggravating factors, and they started citing cases, until even the most die-hard rail birds had flown to more promising feeding grounds in their never-ending search for stories more wretched than their own.

  When the jury was brought out for the last time, they were read the jury instructions, and Judge Perry reminded them that there is no burden of proof in the penalty phase, and that this time the defense would have the last word.