Brooklyn Noir 3: Nothing but the Truth (27 page)
Then again, just past midnight on November 21, a resident swore he passed Braunstein walking east on Degraw between Hicks and Cheever.
So—memorize the face, lock the door, walk the ladies to the train. Be mindful to whom you sell coffee. Report all agitated people who lock their keys in the car to the police. Be vigilant during your late-night walks home. Because you never know who you might see.
“I have never known my son to even go to Brooklyn,” Peter Braunstein’s estranged father told the
Daily News
. The article—published on November 19 and smugly titled,
CAFÉ
SEARCH GROUNDLESS?
—was the first whiff of doubt about Braunstein hiding out in BoCoCa.
The
New York Observer
, a contrarian weekly, pooh-poohed the bulk of daily tabloid reportage by suggesting in a December 5 article that maybe—just maybe—Braunstein had never been on the unglamourous side of the river.
“Forget the massive manhunt,” wrote the
Observer
’s Mark Lotto. “Is Peter Braunstein the last freelancer in New York who thinks he’s too good for Brooklyn?”
Well into December, more than two weeks after the last Braunstein sighting, there was no hint of him in Brooklyn. The
Wanted
posters got weirdly more detailed—
Braunstein drinks
Guinness and vodka! He likes beef curry with extra mustard!
—but BoCoCa’s watchful citizens saw nothing.
Which makes sense, really, because when the city thought Braunstein was buying coffee and borrowing coat hangers in Brooklyn, the closest he got to the County of Kings was at a storage facility on 36th Street and Northern Boulevard in Queens, which is home to so few media folk that it took newspapers at least three days to report the extent of a 2006 blackout affecting more than 125,000 residents.
By half past 11 o’clock on the night of November 2, Peter Braunstein was in Cleveland. Not Brooklyn. He never came back to the city after that. He spent a few nights chewing a bartender’s ear about working on the plastic surgery TV drama
Nip/Tuck
. He said he was researching striptease joints for his next writing project—and isn’t that what they all say?
“He didn’t strike me as creepy,” the Moriarty’s bartender told the
Daily News
.
At the University of Cincinnati on November 17, Braunstein robbed a psychologist’s office at gunpoint for sixteen bucks in cash, plus a Visa card. He made his way south, first to Nashville and then to Memphis, where on November 28 he sold his blood for twenty dollars.
At the University of Memphis, better than a thousand miles from the Bococa Café, Peter Braunstein collapsed in a pool of his own blood on December 16. A campus police officer found Braunstein after a woman named Annette Brown, who’d seen him on the TV show
America’s Most Wanted
, spotted him walking around with a backpack and sleeping bag.
“I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine,” Brown told the
Daily News
. “They were very dark, empty, unfeeling, and cold. I felt like I was looking at a dead person, just evil. He was so close to me, I could have hugged him.”
Brown flagged a campus patrol car from a safe distance away. The car trailed Braunstein for a while, until an officer ordered him to stop in his tracks. Braunstein pulled a knife and began to stab himself in the neck. The officer sprayed Braunstein with half a can of pepper spray, but the knife went in and out thirteen times.
“I give up,” Braunstein said, dropping the knife. He fell and the officer took away the gun he was packing. Cuffing him, the officer asked his name.
“Peter Braunstein,” he said, after which he passed out. Alternate versions of the capture had Braunstein declaring, “I’m the guy the world is looking for.” But such are mostly television accounts and not to be trusted.
In his backpack, police found a video camera, two digital video tapes, and a diary. The tapes were blank. But in the diary, police read Braunstein’s commentary on his own press coverage.
“He was very interested in what was being written about him, and how he was portrayed,” a cop told the
Daily News
.
Under court order, New York police on January 23 released notes of a conversation detectives had with Braunstein shortly after his capture in Memphis. Braunstein laughed off media reports. “[He] stated that he thought the Cobble Hill thing was funny because he does not even know where Cobble Hill is located,” police told the papers.
On his return to New York, Braunstein repeated his Manhattan-to-Queens trip of the previous November.
First housed in Bellevue, he was then moved to Rikers Island to await trial. Braunstein’s defense team released a psychiatric report on June 1, 2006, indicating a likely diagnosis of schizophrenia. In her report, Braunstein’s psychologist said it was the gig at
Women’s Wear Daily
that made him snap.
“Working in the highly competitive, glitzy, and sexually charged atmosphere of a celebrity-driven fashion periodical was an extremely toxic and unsuitable environment,” according to the doctor.
Was it a life that he missed? When the
Daily News
published an interview with Braunstein at Rikers on October 8, 2006, it appeared that he was happy to chat. “Look, I used to do this,” Braunstein told the journalist. “I used to be you.”
Hear that, Brooklyn?
P
OSTSCRIPT
:
Peter Braunstein was convicted of kidnapping and sexual
assault in a trial ending on May 23, 2007. The jury deliberated
for only a few hours. In a letter to the judge pleading for leniency,
Braunstein railed against the tabloid coverage of his case, singling out
New York Post
columnist Andrea Peyser. She “declared that I was
not sick; I was evil,” Braunstein wrote. “This kind of tabloid rhetoric
is essentially a mandate for harsh sentencing.” Braunstein is now in
prison, serving an eighteen-years-to-life term.
T
HOMAS
A
DCOCK
is a veteran New York City journalist and an Edgar Award–winning novelist. He has contributed stories to
New Orleans Noir
and
Bronx Noir
. A longtime Manhattan resident, he is nevertheless often seen in the company of his granddaughter, Gianna Maria, who lives in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn.
D
ENISE
B
UFFA
is a native of Brooklyn. A
New York Post
reporter for more than a decade, she has covered numerous beats, including Brooklyn courts. She is currently penning
Mushy &
Mama,
a book about the life and times of her mastiff, Mushy. A former Bay Ridge babe, she currently resides with her new dog, Baci, in Harlem. She has a not-so-secret weapon when chasing down stories on New York City streets: her accent!
C
ONSTANCE
C
ASEY
, who was a New York City Parks Department gardener for five years, is a member of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden board of trustees, and a judge in The Greenest Block in Brooklyn contest. She writes about gardening and natural history for the online magazine
Slate
. In a former, more indoor life she was an editor at the
San Jose Mercury
News
and the
Washington Post
, then a national correspondent for Newhouse News Service.
R
EED
F
ARREL
C
OLEMAN
was born and raised in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn.
The James Deans
, the third installment of his Brooklyn-based Moe Prager mystery series, won the Shamus, Barry, and Anthony awards. The novel was also nominated for the Edgar, Macavity, and Gumshoe awards. He is the editor of
Hardboiled Brooklyn
and his short stories have also appeared in
Wall Street Noir
and
Dublin Noir.
A
ILEEN
G
ALLAGHER
is an editor at
New York
magazine’s website, nymag.com. She was a founding editor of the online magazine
The Black Table
and has written for the
New York
Law Journal, New York Post, New York Press, Bust, Maxim,
and
New York
magazine. A native of suburban Philadelphia, she resides joyously in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.
