Finding Amy
Authors: Joseph K. Loughlin,Kate Clark Flora
Amy
A TRUE STORY OF MURDER IN MAINE
Captain Joseph K. Loughlin
Kate Clark Flora
University Press of New England
HANOVER AND LONDON
Published by University Press of New England,
One Court Street, Lebanon, NH 03766
www.upne.com
© 2006 by Joseph K. Loughlin and Kate Clark Flora
Printed in the United States of America
5 4 3 2 1
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Members of educational institutions and organizations wishing to photocopy any of the work for classroom use, or authors and publishers who would like to obtain permission for any of the material in the work, should contact Permissions, University Press of New England, One Court Street, Lebanon, NH 03766.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Loughlin, Joseph K.
Finding Amy : a true story of murder in Maine / Joseph K. Loughlin,
Kate Clark Flora.â1st ed.
    p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN
-13: 978â1â58465â533â6 (cloth : alk. paper)
ISBN
-10: 1â58465â533â
X
(cloth : alk. paper)
ISBN
-13: 978â1â58465â563â3 (pbk. : alk. paper)
ISBN
-10: 1â58465â563â1 (pbk. : alk. paper)
eISBN:
978-1-61168-228-1 (ebook)
1. MurderâMaineâPortlandâCase studies. 2. MurderâInvestigation âMaineâPortlandâCase studies. I. Flora, Kate Clark. II. Title.
HV
6534.
P
67
L
68Â Â Â 2006
2005035369
364.152'30974191âdc22
“The tale is brimming with insights about police procedure, jurisdictional disputes, and politics. Over and over again, real life trumps fictionâ¦. The reader is never allowed to lose sight of the humanity of the victim, a young girl who accepted a ride from the wrong guy, then had the temerity to say no.”
âThe Boston Globe
“True crime at its most powerful. Compelling and ultimately tragic, it's written by the ultimate storytelling team: a mystery writer and a real-life detective. This is a book you won't be able to put down.”
â
New York Times
bestselling author Tess Gerritsen
“Few true crime books get behind the scenes and explain how homicide detectives do their jobs the way
Finding Amy
does. Even readers who followed the case as it unfolded ⦠won't be able to put the book downâ¦. [A]n intensely vivid portrait of the investigationâ¦. The authors don't just take readers into the investigation; they take them inside the heads of the investigatorsâ¦. An absorbing tale about how the police do what they do in the real world rather than on television crime shows.”
âBangor Daily News
“One of the best true crime stories to be published in recent years ⦠This book should reaffirm the public's faith in the police, prosecutors, and Maine's judicial system.”
âBrunswick Times Record
“Loughlin's recorded entries about the caseâhis thoughts, emotions, and reactions to the investigationâamplify Flora's straightforward but potent narrative ⦠a feast for proceduralists.”
âPublishers Weekly
“[E]specially compelling because of the personal account of [Captain] Loughlin ⦠There are no â
CSI
solutions' that wrap up the case in a conveniently short time. There are no magic findings of DNA. What takes place in this true story is the passionate belief that they will find Amy, bring her killer to justice, and give closure to her family and to the people of Maine.”
â
Foreword
magazine
“[A] highly compelling read from the opening page to the bittersweet final lines. This is true-crime reporting at its best.”
âGary Braver, anthor of
Flashback
“A remarkable chronicle ⦠Loughlin and Flora give us a compelling and moving behind-the-scenes window on the investigation, trial, and, most of all, the impact of Amy's story on the lives and hearts of the investigators.”
âMargaret Press, author of
A Scream on the Water
To Amy Elizabeth St. Laurent
And to all those officers out there who believe
When night darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
â
JOHN MILTON
,
Paradise Lost
F
irst and foremost, our gratitude to Amy's family, for raising the special woman who inspired this book and for their courage in keeping her in the public's eye during such a painful time.
This book would not have been possible without the generous help of the many people who took time from their busy schedules to explain procedure and discuss their role in the investigation. Special thanks to Sgt. Daniel Young, Sgt. Thomas Joyce, and Sgt. Bruce Coffin of the Portland Police Department; Sgt. Matthew Stewart and Detective Scott Harakles of the Maine State Police; Lt. Patrick Dorian and Warden Kevin Adam of the Maine Warden Service; Assistant Attorney General Fernand LaRochelle, Deputy Attorney General William Stokes, and Assistant Attorney General Donald Macomber from the Office of the Attorney General; Detective Gerard “Biff” Brady from the Cumberland County Sheriff's Department; and Landon Fake from the Mahoosic Mountain Search and Rescue organization.
To all our readers who gave us feedback and advice on our early drafts: Diane Woods Englund, Elizabeth Armstrong, Esq., Nancy McJennett, Brad Lovette, Andree Buckley, and the most erudite Thomas Yellen of Keio University, Tokyo, Japan.
To our agent, Eve Bridburg, and our editor, John Landrigan, for believing in the book and helping us share Amy's story.
From Kate: Special thanks to my husband, Kenneth Cohen, who put up with my endless trips to Portlandâit's not every man who is comfortable with a wife who hangs out at the police departmentâand to my writing partner, Captain Joe, who kept the faith when I lost it, reminding me that Amy's story mattered. To Lt. Thomas LeMin, of the Newark, Delaware, Police Department, who briefed me on buried bodies; to Lt. Joe Brooks and the Waltham, Massachusetts, Police Department for letting me attend their Citizens' Police Academy; and to Concord, Massachusetts, police chief Len Wetherbee for answering a million questions.
From Joe: Special thanks to Jennifer True Webber for her love and patience; to Chief Michael Chitwood for his energy and passion; and to Lucille Holt for her faith and friendship. Thanks to Detective Brian Keller and Richard VonVoight, Riverhead, NY, PD (retired) for starting it all by introducing me to the job; and to my neighbor Helene Albert for her insight into the first manuscript.
Welcome to the Cop's Life
I
can still recall clearly some of my first days and years on the street after I graduated from the academy. I remember physically shaking on my first call at a domestic disturbance. Training, films, instructor warnings, and danger signals raced through my mind as we made our way up the dark, cold, urine-stained stairwell. A man was screaming, a woman sobbing, and neighbors pointing as glass showered down on us from the third floor.
The senior officer I was assigned to, Cleo Kelly, made it all look so easy. He appeared more interested in talking about the Celtics than concentrating on our task. I was thinking we were about to be killed. We ended up arresting the man after a brief struggle and counseling the bruised woman as she begged us not to take him away.
The scene at the booking room was just as disturbing. One man was rocking back and forth crying; another spitting and cursing at everyone; tough guys stared ahead and right through me; shouts and curses echoed down the hall from the “tanks” where violent offenders were placed. A man smashed his head against the wall. Metal doors slammed shut; electric buzzers rang out amidst the shouting and screaming. I thought this was what hell must be like.
After a while it all runs together and you forget most of what you are exposed to on the job. By the end of my first year, one of my colleagues was shot in the face, my partner had a breakdown and left the job, and a short while later another officer committed suicide. Yet, I couldn't leave. It was too interesting, too challenging, and a place where I could do good for the world. It was in my blood, as they say.
One day in the summer I had a fairly busy shift involving some routine and some disturbance calls. One call was for an infant in distress at an apartment. The baby was not breathing. Paramedics and I worked on the baby as the parents tugged and howled at us to help. The apartment was filthy. The man had broken bones from a fall and both legs were in casts. And the baby died in our arms. I distinctly remember that smell and how white the infant looked. After all the reports, I moved on to the next call for service, and the next, adjusting my emotions each time to meet the situation.
Later, taking a break at a Dunkin' Donuts to get a large fruit punch, which I paid for, a man called over to me, “Hey, you guys have it made, doncha. Drive around all day and get free food.” I returned to my car, thinking about all I had seen that day alone, then drove behind a building to drink my drink, hoping not to be disturbed by another run, and started sobbing about the baby.
It's eighteen years later, I'm the lieutenant in charge of CID, the Criminal Investigations Division. I've been to hundreds of deaths and horrible crime scenes. It's easier now. Almost routine. Now I sit with other detectives in a hotel conference room, passing around photos with casual indifference, speculation, and study, like people passing around a report or stats at a board meeting. Different conversations float in the air. “Now, that's bullshit!” “She was dead before he tied her up.” “Look here, look at her hands, the lividity.”
I'm distracted by another detective, as he nudges and points to the Polaroid. God knows what happened to this poor girl. These are not ordinary photos; these are horrible death scenes involving torture and rape. One girl, her nostrils flared, mouth agape, sucking down her last breath in panic. Nice white teeth, lips curled back like an angry dog's. All sorts of emotions running through her last thoughts. Beautiful long brown hair. Yup, she fits the profile all right.
Different agencies are trying to match up the work of a serial killer we think worked in our area. As the meeting goes on, some are even bored with the routine of it. We've witnessed so much tragedy over the years we can view these victims without emotion. I pause and think, God, if “normal” people saw this stuff, they'd be asking for counseling and wouldn't sleep for weeks. Our “board meeting” continues as photos are tossed around like trading cards.
Ironically, we can often see through the horror. “Hey, look at this one,” somebody says. “She's good looking.” Early twenties, her pretty eyes rolled up with a panicked look. Amazed at what is happening to her. This girl is all tied up neatly by a monster with an eye for detail. Anger wells up toward the suspected perpetrator of these despicable acts, a killer who trained others to follow in his footsteps. Talk about the death penalty. Easy when you see this kind of stuff. What about the families, friends, children? Juries and citizens will never see these pictures. Never be exposed to the whole truth.
We discuss the details with words like
positioning
,
stains
,
fibers
,
hair, DNA
,
petechia
,
ligature marks
. Detectives Dumas and Krier are arguing. “Look, you moron, it's Investigation 101! You should know that.” “Hey, John, look at this. What's up with the red lividity? That's odd.” The voices merge together until they sound like one noise.
After the meeting, I stop on the way home for a steak dinner. I want to be alone, sitting at the bar enjoying a few beers. Mellow feelings wash over me as I wait for my food, dim voices blending with the music. I listen to simple talk and regular lives. People who aren't exposed to the extremes of life's underside. I hear someone talk about a “big problem,” something about her nails, and think, lady, you don't know what problems are.
This is what it's like for cops. Day and night. Night and day. Year after year, the unimaginable things pile up. At the academy and on the job, they teach us objectivity. Keep an emotional distance. Separate yourself. After a while, we can see things like today's crime-scene pictures without much emotional response. Mostly it works, but sometimes things get stuck in your head, haunting your dreams and interrupting your thoughts because they matter so goddamned much. A case involving a beautiful girl named Amy St. Laurent was one of those.
