When Sandusky did enter, the first thing he did was
study Darren through the glass. Darren continued to stretch, humming softly to himself. Sandusky motioned Jaywalker to follow him out of the room. When they reached the conference room, he lit a cigarette.
"He's very nervous," he said.
"I would be, too." As soon as Jaywalker had said the words, he realized he was being overly defensive of his client. But that was his job, wasn't it? Besides, there was something about Sandusky's observation he didn't like.
Sandusky ignored the comment. He sat down at his desk and searched through a drawer until he found the form he was looking for. Then he used it to write out the questions he was going to ask Darren. He inserted them in the blanks for questions 2, 3, 6, 7 and 9. Questions 1, 4, 5 and 8 he left open. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up.
Jaywalker resumed his post in the observation room. Darren was singing softly when Sandusky reappeared in the testing room. Jaywalker didn't recognize the tune.
"All right," said Sandusky. "These are going to be the questions I'll be asking you. Who raped Joanne Kenarden? Do you know who did it? Did you rape her? Did you see her blow you? Did you threaten her with a knife?"
Sitting in the observation room, Jaywalker was a bit sur prised that Sandusky would telegraph the test questions to Darren that way. Wouldn't springing them on him be a more effective tactic? But the more he thought about it, the more he came around to understanding Sandusky's strat egy. By letting Darren know exactly what questions were coming, he was giving him a chance to build up addi tional anxiety over the fact that he was going to be lying in his responses.
"How ab-b-b-bout the question I suggested?" Darren asked.
"I'm afraid I can't use it," said Sandusky, without further explanation.
Darren looked disappointed by the answer, and perhaps by Sandusky's dismissive tone, as well. Jaywalker won dered if Sandusky was deliberately trying to agitate Darren by first requesting his input and then rejecting it. But hadn't he just commented on how nervous Darren already was?
"Now," Sandusky was saying, "before we begin the actual test, let's talk about guilt for a moment."
"G-g-guilt?"
"Yes. Darren, when you were growing up, which of your parents would you say was stricter, was more con cerned with teaching you right from wrong?"
"They were both pretty strict."
Jaywalker could believe that.
"Which one would more likely have told you it was wrong to hurt people?"
Darren seemed to think a moment before saying, "My dad, I guess."
"How about sex education? Which one took more of a role in teaching you about sex?"
Darren thought again. "I don't know," he said finally. "I—I—I learned that pretty much on my own." Then, when Sandusky didn't react, he added, "I guess it would have b-been my dad again."
"Okay," said Sandusky. "Psychologists and psychia trists tell us that hurting values and sexual values are taught to us by our parents when we're very young, and that de viance from these values is what produces guilt feelings."
This struck Jaywalker as mumbo jumbo, double-talk. He had the feeling that Sandusky was deliberately trying to lose Darren here, though he didn't know why.
"The problem is," Sandusky explained, "guilt feelings can interfere with the test." To Jaywalker, that sounded counterintuitive. Wasn't the test premised upon the exis tence of feelings of guilt and designed to ferret them out?
"So," Sandusky continued, "when we get started, I'm going to include a couple of questions to eliminate them. One will be about hurting, the other about sex. And by the way, these two questions will be between you and me. I won't report them to anyone, not even your lawyer. Okay?"
Darren nodded.
"Do you know what masturbation is, Darren?"
"Yes."
"What is it?" Evidently Sandusky wanted to be certain.
"It's when you p-p-p-play with yourself."
"Right," said Sandusky. "Have you ever masturbated, Darren?"
"Yes," Darren admitted.
Jaywalker found himself feeling more like a voyeur than ever. But it was riveting stuff, and he was beginning to see where Sandusky was going with it.
"When was the last time?"
"I c-c-can't recall."
"How old are you now?"
"Twenty-two."
"Well," said Sandusky, "that makes you pretty old. I guess it would have had to have been when you were ten or eleven, huh?"
"I g-g-guess so," Darren agreed.
Jaywalker's hunch had been right. Sandusky was build ing a lie into the test, deliberately coaching Darren to be deceitful when the time came. That way, he would have a control response to a lie, against which he could measure the real responses.
"Well," said Sandusky, "you can't remember masturbat ing in the last ten years, can you?"
"No," said Darren, swallowing the bait.
"Good. Now, have you ever hurt anybody?"
"Yes," said Darren. "I guess so."
"Who?"
"I've hurt Charlene, my wife, by saying things."
"Can you remember anyone else you've hurt?"
Darren hesitated for a moment. "No," he said.
"Okay," said Sandusky. Once again he attached the straps to Darren's body and inflated the blood pressure cuff. "Now," he said, "put your hands on the arms of the chair. Feet flat on the floor. I want you to face forward and close your eyes. As I ask you questions, you just answer 'Yes' or 'No.'" He turned on the machine.
Jaywalker had to remind himself to breathe.
"Do you live in the United States?" asked Sandusky.
"Yes," answered Darren.
"Did you rape Joanne Kenarden?"
"No."
"Do you know who did rape Joanne Kenarden?"
"No."
"Is your name Darren Kingston?"
"Yes."
"Since you were twelve years old, can you remember masturbating even one time?"
Darren opened his eyes, turned to Sandusky and raised his hand, as though signaling for a time-out. "I remem bered," he said. "I think I did it once since then."
Sandusky stopped the machine, walked over and undid the straps. "How old were you at that time?" he asked. "Thirteen?"
"I m-m-must have been."
"Okay," said Sandusky. "Let's take a break."
Sandusky and Jaywalker met in the conference room again. Sandusky smoked nervously. Jaywalker feared the worst.
"Doesn't look good?" he asked.
"He's just so damn tight. I'm going to have to try to get him to believe in the test a little more."
Jaywalker resumed his observation post as Sandusky returned to the test room. "All right," he told Darren, "we've been going quite a while. I want to check the machine." He hooked it up to Darren again. Then he pro duced seven oversized playing cards. Jaywalker could see that each one had a different number printed on its face. Sandusky shuffled them and fanned them out in front of Darren, facedown. "Take one," he said, "without letting me see the other side of it."
Darren did as he was told. When he lifted the card to look at it, Jaywalker could see the number thirteen on it. He wondered if he was the only one who'd associated the choice with bad luck.
"Look at it," said Sandusky, "remember it and put it back. Don't tell me what it is."
Darren complied.
"Now," said Sandusky, turning on the machine, "I want you to listen carefully to my questions, but answer 'No' to each one. No 'Yeses,' just 'Noes.' Understand?"
"Yes," said Darren.
"Did you pick the number three?"
"No."
"Did you pick the number five?"
"No."
"Did you pick the number seven?"
"No."
"Did you pick the number eight?"
"No."
"Did you pick the number ten?"
"No."
"Did you pick the number thirteen?"
"No."
"No."
Sandusky had marked the graph paper following each response. Now he shut off the machine and studied the paper. "Okay," he said after a moment. "You picked thirteen."
Jaywalker exhaled. Still, he had the feeling that Sandusky had said it a bit tentatively and was more pleased than he should have been when Darren confirmed that he was right.
"Great," said Sandusky, once again removing the straps. "Let's take one more break. The machine's work ing perfectly. When I come back in, we'll do the actual test."
In the conference room, Sandusky underscored his un certainty by asking Jaywalker if Darren had in fact picked number thirteen. But neither of them mentioned the prob lem that was by this time evident to both of them.
ACTUAL TEST QUESTIONS AND
SUBJECT'S RESPONSES
POLYGRAPH EXAMINATION OF
Darren Kingston,
ADMINISTERED BY Gene Sandusky ON
October 25, 1979.
1. Q: Do you live in the United States? A: Yes.
2. Q: Last August 16th, did you rape Joanne Ke narden? A: No.
3. Q: Do you know for sure who did rape Joanne Kenarden? A: No.
4. Q: Is your name Darren Kingston? A: Yes.
5. Q: Since the age of thirteen, can you remember masturbating even one time? A: No.
6. Q: Last August 16th, did you force Joanne Ke narden to blow you? A: No.
7. Q: Last August 16th, did you threaten Joanne Kenarden with a knife? A: No.
8. Q: Can you remember hurting one person in your life besides your wife? A: No.
9. Q: Have you told me the entire truth regarding what you know about the Joanne Kenarden rape? A: Yes.
The test was over. Sandusky turned off the machine and removed the straps from Darren. He made one final mark on the graph paper before tearing it from the roll and head ing to the conference room. Jaywalker met him there.
"All right," said Sandusky, lighting another cigarette. "I was afraid of this. We've got a problem here."
Jaywalker waited for the worst, the news that Darren had flunked cold. In his mind, he was already rehearsing his Okay-it's-time-to-plead-guilty speech. The problem was, he was still thinking black and white, winner take all. And he was wrong.
"I want Dick to take a look at these charts," said Sandusky, referring to his mentor and senior partner, Dick Arledge. "But I'm already certain he's going to want to run a retest. So if it's okay with you, I'm going to go ahead and schedule it for some time next week."
Jaywalker hesitated. Uncertainty was better than fail ure, but the test had cost five hundred dollars. He couldn't be spending more of Marlin Kingston's money without checking with him first. "The fee—"
"Don't worry," said Sandusky. "There's no additional charge."
"Okay," Jaywalker agreed. "What do you think the problem is?"
Sandusky shook his head. "I'm not sure," he said. "He's nervous, he's very tight. Some of it's wearing off. A lot of times they're calmer the second time around. They know what to expect, and the general anxiety is less. That way, the specific anxieties show up more. The lies."
Jaywalker said nothing, but he found himself wonder ing if Sandusky wasn't betraying a bias here. Had he been expecting lies from Darren? Was he surprised they hadn't shown up clearly? And was he implying that a retest was needed in order to better expose them? Or was Jaywalker simply being paranoid?
Not that that would be a first.
Sandusky had Jaywalker leave the office before he went back in to break the news to Darren. Riding down in the elevator, Jaywalker could feel the fascination of the experi ence beginning to give way to depression. It was already dawning on him that what had seemed the defense's best hope was proving worthless. He suddenly felt exhausted, totally drained.
He drove his VW downtown in silence. Even the radio, his sometimes companion, managed to irritate him. If only Darren could have passed, he thought. It would have been a reprieve from the governor, a rescue by the cavalry. No, he realized, it would have been a deus ex machina, in the most literal sense: god from the machine.
Or if only he'd flunked, Jaywalker admitted to himself grimly. If the test had established his guilt, it would have put an end to any notion of a trial. More importantly, it would have gotten Jaywalker off the hook. Darren and the rest of the Kingston family would have stopped expecting him to perform magic. The case would have become man ageable, predictable. Safe. An exercise in damage control.
Instead, this. This nonanswer, the worst of all possible results. Sure, there'd be a retest. But already Jaywalker had begun to steel himself, to accept the inevitable. The result would be the same. The little black box simply wasn't going to decide things. How ridiculous to have expected anything else.
He gave Darren an hour to get home before phoning him from the office. Not knowing that Jaywalker had observed the test, Darren explained what had happened in some detail. He concluded by saying that Mr. Sandusky wanted him to come back on Friday because he hadn't had time to finish the questioning.
"I know," Jaywalker lied. "I spoke with him a little while ago."
"D-d-did he give you any idea of how I was doing?" Darren asked.
"No," Jaywalker lied again. "He said he hadn't had a chance to study the charts yet. Why, you worried?"
"No, Jay, I'm not worried. You know that."
Jaywalker bit his tongue, sorry he'd said it. The truth was, as worried as he himself was, Darren seemed su premely confident. Either he was completely innocent, one hell of an actor—or a total psychopath.
Friday came, and with it the retest.
Jaywalker couldn't go. He had a trial, a non-jury case involving a taxi driver charged with leaving the scene of an accident. The guy had pulled away from the curb with out realizing—or so he said—that there was an elderly woman holding on to the handle of the cab's rear door. She'd lost her balance, fallen and broken a hip. Jaywalker argued to the judge that there was no evidence that the driver had been aware of what had happened. The judge looked skeptical, but was forced to agree on the law. Not guilty. Jaywalker gathered up his papers, snapped his briefcase closed and strode out of the courtroom. The victory was a small one, but satisfying. If only they could all be so easy, he thought.
He reached Sandusky at 5:30 p.m. Dick Arledge had run the retest on Darren. Like Sandusky, he'd come up with an indefinite. But they wanted one final try, and had asked Darren to come back on Monday, at which time they would run him through it once more, together. Jaywalker said okay.
He hung up the phone, and settled back into his chair and his depression. The flush from the earlier acquittal was long gone. The weekend, with time to spend with his wife and daughter, took on a bittersweet quality.
Two strikes.
One to go.
Strike three came on Monday.
Dick Arledge called at noon to report that he and Sandusky had tested Darren once more, with the same result: indefinite. "It's unusual," he added, "but it hap pens."
"Did you tell Darren?" Jaywalker asked.
"No," said Arledge. "I figured I'd let you do that."
Like a doctor afraid to tell his patient he's got cancer and is going to die. Let the nurse do it, or maybe the reception ist.
"Strictly off the record," said Jaywalker. "If you had to make a guess, would you say he's lying or telling the truth?"
"On the basis of the tests?"
"Yes."
"I couldn't even take a guess," Arledge confessed. "For some reason, we simply couldn't get a pattern on him. The truth controls look the same as the lie controls. We start getting what looks like a meaningful set of responses, and then, wham! No response where there's got to be one. Or a response to his own name. No, on the basis of the tests, I can't tell you it so much as leans an inch one way or the other."
"And on the basis of anything else?"
"On the basis of anything else…" Arledge repeated Jay walker's words and paused for a moment. "I like
the kid. Gene and I both like him. He sure as hell doesn't seem like a rapist."
Jaywalker said he agreed. He accepted Dick Arledge's apology, thanked him for his efforts, and hung up the phone. The strikeout was complete.
So they liked Darren. Great. Jaywalker liked Darren, too. Maybe that was half the problem right there. Nobody could imagine this good-looking, quiet, sensitive, stutter ing kid as a vicious rapist with a knife in his hand. But what did rapists look like, anyway? Would you recognize one if you passed him on the street? Sat next to him on the Number 6 train? Did he have a perpetual leer in his eye? Did he drool? Walk around with a giant hard-on?
Bronx Justice Page 6
