American Predator

by Maureen Callahan

  FELDIS: So what do you do after you get the rack back on? It’s pretty late.

  KEYES: Well, I . . .

  He took a pause. These were things, Keyes told them, that he had never spoken of before.

  TWELVE

  There was still only so much detail Keyes was willing to give, but what he would say was more than Payne and his team could’ve hoped for. In fact, it was everything. Until another mistake gave Keyes pause.

  KEYES: What was I thinking? ’Cause the shed was already set up. I had two heaters going in there and I had a big tarp, like a nine-by-twelve tarp, laid out on the floor and there was a radio in there and stuff. And so yeah, I guess it was probably between one and two [A.M.] that I finally got the nerve to like, get her out of the truck and walk her over into the—I had her blindfolded then because you know, I was telling her like, “Don’t try to see anything because we’ve got to get this thing worked out.”

  Samantha was now inside the shed.

  KEYES: I was telling her . . . “I’ll make you comfortable. You just sit here . . . But I’m gonna have this police scanner on me so if I hear reports of screaming from this neighborhood or anything, any disturbance from over here, I’m gonna be back here before the cops get here.”

  Samantha had every reason to believe him. He turned his radio way up, heavy metal drowning out any noise she could possibly make.

  KEYES: You know, she was very cooperative. She didn’t seem like she was going to try anything. . . . I gave her like a five-gallon bucket for her to pee in and then dumped that out onto the trailer and then stuck it back in the shed so she’d have something to sit on and then took a piece of rope and put it around her neck and screwed it to the wall on both sides and I think changed her.

  It’s unclear whether the court reporter mistakenly wrote “changed” instead of “chained,” or whether Keyes had changed something Samantha was wearing. Keyes, so meticulous thus far, probably figured snow would wash Samantha’s DNA, now all over his trailer, away.

  KEYES: I—I moved her hands so that they were in front of her so she could smoke and stuff. And yeah, just told her to chill out.

  Next he told Samantha to give him her home address and the location and description of the truck she shared with Duane. The ATM card they shared, Samantha told Keyes, was in the truck, either in the glove box or tucked into a visor.

  Keyes went back inside the house and pulled up Samantha’s address on MapQuest. He checked on Kimberly, now finally asleep. It was about 2:30 A.M. In just two and a half hours, Keyes and his daughter needed to leave.

  KEYES: Then I took Kimberly’s car. . . . [I] parked three or four blocks away from where [Samantha’s] truck was and walked over there and used the key to open the door and the car was right where she said it would be and I was just locking the truck up and some guy came out and obviously knew something was up right away.

  Duane. This lined up perfectly with what he had told Detective Doll about the strange figure in Samantha’s truck. According to Keyes, Samantha had spent three hours being dragged all over Anchorage, seen by at least twenty people, possibly including two officers. She’d had a real chance.

  Now Keyes was facing off with her boyfriend.

  They both stood there for a moment, Duane frozen, Keyes waiting to see what Duane might do. Keyes had a knife on him; he’d use it. Suddenly, Duane turned and ran back inside the house. Was it fear? Had Duane somehow felt threatened?

  Keyes, ATM card in hand, tore down the street and hid behind a snowbank. No one came back outside the house. He jumped into Kimberly’s car and took off.

  And Kimberly, he still insisted, knew nothing. Nothing.

  Keyes was on his way to an ATM to test the card when yet again he realized he’d made another mistake. He hadn’t written down the PIN number Samantha had given him, so now he had to go back to the shed, get the PIN number, keep Samantha calm, and risk exposure for the thirteenth time that night.

  The kiosk. The escape attempt on Tudor. The IHOP. The cops in the patrol car. Lynn Ary Park. The skiers. The gas station. The trip back inside the kiosk, twice. Earthquake Park. Taking Samantha out of his truck, in his driveway, and into the shed. Duane. Now this.

  It was, Keyes said, another risk on a rapidly ticking clock.

  “I had to go back to my house and then talk to her. . . .” It was as if he had forgotten a bag of groceries at the store.

  And after all that, there was ninety-four cents in the account.

  KEYES: That wasn’t really the issue. I wasn’t—I wasn’t after the card at that point.

  FELDIS: What were you after?

  KEYES: That was just a bonus.

  FELDIS: Bonus to what?

  KEYES: To the whole thing. If I could eventually get some money out of the card, then that was the plan.

  FELDIS: It sounds like there is something more to the story.

  KEYES: Oh, yeah. There is a lot more to the story.

  FELDIS: Okay.

  KEYES: I don’t know if I’m gonna tell the whole story today, though.

  FELDIS: Okay. Well, when you left for your cruise you got that cab—we know when you called that cab.

  Keyes called for a ride at 5:00 A.M. sharp. By the time he had tested the ATM card and returned to the shed it was around 3:00 A.M.

  What could he have possibly done to Samantha—leaving behind no evidence of any kind—in the hour he had left before showering, changing clothes, waking his daughter, feeding her breakfast, making sure she was packed for their two-week-long trip, and getting to the airport, with his girlfriend staying behind, ostensibly none the wiser?

  KEYES: Yeah, I was running late [laugh].

  FELDIS: Where was—where was Samantha when you left in the cab?

  KEYES: She was in the shed.

  FELDIS: Was she alive?

  KEYES: Yeah, I might save that story for later.

  Payne and Bell had strategized for a moment like this. Feldis got half of it right—the shift to the ransom note with the photo of Samantha and the proof-of-life copy of the Anchorage Daily News dated February 13, 2012.

  FELDIS: She alive in this photo?

  KEYES: Nope.

  FELDIS: Was she alive when you got back from your trip on the morning of [February] eighteenth?

  KEYES: Nope.

  FELDIS: Was she alive when you left?

  KEYES: That would seem like an obvious question.

  FELDIS: So she—she was alive?

  Oh, God. In this moment, Steve Payne knew for sure: Bell should have been running this interrogation. The minute that ransom note came in, Bell said it out loud: Samantha’s dead. No one else on Payne’s team wanted to believe it. Bell would’ve undercut Keyes with his unflappability and would never, ever have presumed the answer to something he didn’t know for sure. But Feldis would not be stopped.

  FELDIS: So she—she was alive?

  KEYES: Huh?

  FELDIS: She was alive?

  KEYES: When I left? No.

  FELDIS: ’Kay. But what did you do to her?

  This exchange, small as it may seem, was devastating. Keyes was newly defiant. He could run this room, now and in the future. Payne and Bell knew it too. This confession, a victory on paper, could ultimately set them way back. Who knew what the consequences would be? Even Frank Russo felt it and tried to help.

  KEYES: I’ll tell that whole story but I might not tell it right now.

  RUSSO: Is there a reason you don’t want to tell it now?

  KEYES: Yeah.

  RUSSO: Can you tell us what that is?

  KEYES: I already know who I want to tell that story to.

  FELDIS: Who’s that?

  KEYES: What’s her name—Miki? The lead detective.

  BELL: Why do you wanna—why do you want to specifically tell her?

  KEYES:
Because that’s the way I am.

  Feldis still wouldn’t acknowledge this upside-down power dynamic. He probably wasn’t even aware of it. Payne and Bell cringed every time Feldis got folksy and used first person in his questioning: “Tell me this,” “I need to know that.” Such language implied that he, Feldis, was larger than the investigation, that his needs and wants superseded those of Keyes, that he was the most important person in the room.

  It was quite the opposite. Israel Keyes was the most important person in the room. And Feldis was giving away just how much it meant for him to be here.

  FELDIS: That’s fine. We understand you’re not gonna tell us everything, but the one thing I do need to know before I leave here today is how you killed her.

  KEYES: Why?

  FELDIS: Well, that’s what we—that’s one of the things we agreed on . . . right?

  That was not a good reason, as Payne well knew.

  KEYES: No. I—I mean, it doesn’t really matter how it happened. I’m saying that yes, I was responsible, and yes, I told you where she is.

  FELDIS: ’Kay. So you are responsible for what? I need you to tell me.

  KEYES: For her being deceased at this moment, yes.

  FELDIS: So, you killed her?

  KEYES: Yes.

  BELL: So—so you wanna tell Miki, Detective Doll.

  KEYES: I’ll tell her the rest of the details if you wanna know—if you wanna know all of them.

  BELL: In other words, what you did to her besides just killing her?

  KEYES: I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I’ll give it blow-by-blow if you want.

  FELDIS: Well, can you give us a little idea of what it is you wanna tell her about?

  KEYES: Why? No.

  RUSSO: You wanna just tell us the manner of death without giving us any details?

  KEYES: No.

  Keyes had other demands: He didn’t want his girlfriend’s house torn apart anymore. The investigators needed to come to him and ask permission to search it. Maybe he would let them.

  And he didn’t want them talking to Kimberly, ever. He didn’t care if they believed him. She had nothing to do with this.

  KEYES: I don’t want to hear about you questioning her again. You know, like I say—obviously you have no reason to trust me, but I can tell you right now there is no one who knows me, or who has ever known me, who knows anything about me, really. . . . I’m two different people, basically. And the only person who knows about what I’m telling you, the kinds of things I’m telling you, is me.

  RUSSO: How long have you been two different people?

  KEYES: A long time. Fourteen years.

  THIRTEEN

  Miki Doll returned to Anchorage on Sunday, April 1. For the second time in three weeks, she found herself face-to-face with Israel Keyes.

  For Steve Payne, this was an unexpected assist. As much as he and Doll clashed, her presence, something of a command performance, would make this interrogation a win for law enforcement. She might neutralize Feldis and maybe even humble him. More important, she would get those details. Miki Doll knew how to play.

  Feldis opened by reading Keyes his rights, but instead of handing the lead off to Doll, he segued right into questioning.

  FELDIS: Is there a place you’d like to begin or is there . . .

  KEYES: Well, um, you’re gonna get the abridged version.

  FELDIS: Okay, what does that mean?

  KEYES: I’m gonna leave out some stuff.

  FELDIS: And why is that?

  KEYES: There’s too many—there’s too many people in here, so.

  FELDIS: Okay, so what is that about?

  KEYES: There being too many people?

  FELDIS: Uh-huh.

  KEYES: Um, some of the stuff is very, uh, personal to me.

  FELDIS: Sure, understand.

  KEYES: And, um, yeah—hard to describe, but I don’t feel comfortable telling it to a lot of people so it’s up—it’s up to you.

  This was a no-brainer, Payne thought. Leave Keyes with Doll, Curtner, and maybe Bell, if that was okay. Whether this guy was getting off on telling his story to a stunning young detective or whether he really required some form of cosmetic privacy didn’t matter to Payne. They needed those details.

  FELDIS: Well, why don’t we do this. Since we don’t know where we’re headed—I don’t know where we’re headed, Israel, only you know that, right? So let’s start and see where we end up, okay?

  Feldis was not leaving that room without a fight.

  Doll took this moment to work her way in. This would not be the kind of hard-core, sanctimonious interrogation as seen on TV. She would, correctly, play humble. She would apologize for interrupting and show a detached respect. She might hear the worst atrocities one human being can visit upon another and respond only with “Gotcha.” If her subject laughed, she would laugh along, no matter how repulsed she might be.

  Doll began by telling Keyes that even though she’d listened to yesterday’s interview over the phone, the connection was poor. Most of the voices sounded “like Charlie Brown’s teacher.” She wasn’t up to speed and needed his help.

  DOLL: I’m not really sure if you want me to ask you questions or if you . . .

  KEYES: If you have questions, that’s fine.

  She had just laid the groundwork for a new dynamic, one that recalled the relationship between Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs. This was not by accident. The search of Kimberly and Keyes’s house two weeks back had yielded scores of books, fiction and nonfiction, about serial killers. Those days Keyes went missing in Texas were now of even deeper concern, and given what they now knew about Samantha’s abduction, it was clear Keyes had done this before. How many times? If Samantha wasn’t his first victim, was she, in fact, his last? He said he’d been “two different people” for fourteen years and that there was a lot more he had to say. The team was absorbing the likelihood that Keyes could be a serial killer. If so, he would clearly see himself in the pantheon, worthy of an interrogator who had movie-star quality.

  Doll certainly had that.

  Her first question was pointedly not about Samantha but about Keyes’s daughter, who had been in Texas with his mother. Payne and his team knew the child was Keyes’s soft spot.

  DOLL: When we spoke in Texas—and it might be completely wrong and if I’m completely off base, tell me—but I got the distinct impression that you didn’t want [her] to be raised by your mom.

  KEYES: Very perceptive.

  DOLL: Is that something you’re concerned about?

  KEYES: Not anymore.

  DOLL: Okay, sure. I won’t waste any more time about it. Like I said—

  “Like I said.” Subtle. Perfect. Doll had clearly listened closely to the confession, because she’d picked up and mirrored one of Keyes’s verbal tics: “Like I say.” She was building rapport.

  DOLL: —I don’t really know where you guys left off and why there were some things you only wanted to talk to me about. Um, so I don’t know what questions to ask.

  KEYES: You don’t have to ask—um, like I say, I’ll give you a detailed account of everything that happened. If you want a blow-by-blow account, then I won’t do it—you know, like what I was thinking or what was said between her and I—that stuff stays with me unless there’s fewer people in this room.

  RUSSO: How many people you—

  DOLL: At least your attorney has to stay.

  FELDIS: Well now, let’s—let’s—let’s just start with the abridged version and then we can go from there.

  Feldis was gripping the conference table with white fingertips. It was now clear that case agents should have done whatever it took to keep him out of that room from the beginning.

  The way Keyes talked to Feldis was markedly different than the way he
talked to Doll. She, he wanted to help. He referenced their first meeting in Texas. “You’ve got your monster,” he said. It was almost like he was proud of her.

  Feldis, he wanted to dominate. Humiliate.

  KEYES: Well, before I go into anything . . . Some of the details, regardless of which version I tell you, are going to be very graphic. And I don’t want to hear about them being on the media . . . I don’t imagine that you are going to want them on the media either. At least I can’t imagine why. So, you know, I’m assuming that this video is just for your review or someone else’s review.

  FELDIS: You gotta talk to me about that ’cause I’m the lawyer on the case. So go ahead.

  This was exactly why Keyes shouldn’t be talking to Feldis, but Keyes didn’t know that.

  The investigators assured Keyes that they would keep all details from the press, including the extent of Samantha’s captivity and the location of her remains. Most important to Keyes, they would do everything they could to keep his daughter’s name and location secret.

  So far, reporters knew only that an Anchorage man named Israel Keyes had been arrested in connection with Samantha’s disappearance. A critical irony was not lost on Payne, Bell, and Doll: They, too, didn’t know much more. The analysts at BAU had stressed control, that everyone in the room should make Keyes feel like he had more than anyone. The truth was, they didn’t have to do anything. Keyes really did have all of it.

  * * *

  —

  He was back in the shed.

  KEYES: On the floor there was a tarp and a foam mat and a sleeping—or not a sleeping bag really but like a fleece sleeping bag of sorts.

  DOLL: Did you put the tarp down to catch any blood?