Jane Doe No More (12 page)

How could it not be?

And now, as I sat in front of this police officer, my world was coming apart. He was accusing me of being the polar opposite of the person I had worked so hard to become.

Where was Moran getting his false information? Was he protecting somebody? A cop, perhaps? Had they found out that one of their “brothers” committed the rape, and the cover-up was beginning right there in that room?

“Do you know that your neighbors are calling here,” Moran said, “and they’re scared to death?”

Again, Donna had no idea what he was talking about. “What are you saying?” she pleaded. “What do you mean?”

“A nine-month pregnant woman cannot sleep at night, Mrs. Palomba. How do you feel about that?” Moran was yelling, becoming even more aggressive.

“What in the world are you talking about? I’m the victim . . .
I
cannot sleep at night.” Donna was even more confused now. The guy—a police lieutenant—was beating up on a woman who had been sexually assaulted. She couldn’t get over how surreal this entire interview had turned out to be—and she had volunteered to come down.

“She cannot sleep, and it’s
your
fault,” Moran raged.

“I’m sorry . . . I feel awful about that, but it’s not my fault.”

Moran sat in silence, staring at her.

“What possible motive would I have to concoct this?” Donna said, breaking the silence.

“You tell
me.
”

“Please stop this. Please, Lieutenant. I have told you everything. I beg you to stop. Think about this . . . if I was your wife or daughter, how would you feel if they were being treated in this same manner. What would you tell them to do?”

“I would tell them to tell the truth. Look, I have twenty-seven cases on my desk, and one way or the other, this one is getting closed.”

“If I had an alternative story to tell, why wouldn’t I tell you—especially if you say that I am in danger of losing my husband, my reputation, my children. I would certainly tell you.”

“You would think so,” Moran shot back.

“Please, Lieutenant. Please. This doesn’t make any sense.” Moran had actually told Donna on the telephone earlier that two suspects had been 95 percent ruled out. “I came here today to give you more information . . .”

“Look, this is your last chance—or there
will
be an arrest. But I won’t arrest you here. It will be at your home or at your work. Then I’ll take you back here where you’ll be fingerprinted and photographed.”

Donna trembled. She had no idea how to get out of the situation. She was talking, but Moran refused to hear her. All Moran did was stick to his interpretation of the events, whatever that was. Donna had no idea what evidence he had against her. She just wanted to talk to someone else, someone willing to listen and understand.

“Can you give me till tomorrow?” Donna asked.

“Absolutely not!”

“Please believe me . . . I have nothing to hide. I’ll take a lie detector test, whatever you want.”

“I feel sorry for you, Mrs. Palomba. You’re new at this. I think what happened was that you painted yourself into a corner and things got out of control and they snowballed and you made a mistake.”

There had been a moment during the interrogation when Donna asked Moran about the DNA and any potential lab results. He had mentioned on the phone, she pointed out to him, that the DNA would become important down the road when they had any potential suspects.

“I intentionally gave you misinformation,” Moran said. “It’s one of my tactics.”

I had never been more humiliated, betrayed, or sickened in my life. If I wasn’t so strong, and if I didn’t have the total support of my family through this period, I would have had a nervous breakdown. To take a victim who had been through the kind of trauma I experienced and to use the kinds of tormenting “tactics” that Moran used to intimidate me once he made up his mind about who I was, is something so unbelievable that I still have a hard time comprehending it.

There was a moment when Moran had Donna so perplexed and shaken up that she questioned her own memory. Maybe he was right. Had she been so traumatized that she had no idea what had happened?

“Do you think I could have been hallucinating?” she asked the lieutenant.

“Oh, I don’t think insanity will work.”

“What are you
talking
about?” Donna’s tears flowed more intensely as she curled into herself, her emotions taking over. She slumped in her chair. “What could you be
thinking,
doing something like this to me?”

To her shock and disgust, Moran said, “I’m thinking about what I am going to have for lunch.”

I sat there like an idiot. If I knew then what I know now, I would have gotten up right after he read me my Miranda rights and asked for an attorney. Walked right out of that room. I was just so determined on trying to set the record straight. I wanted him to believe me. I couldn’t understand why he did not. Or what he was basing his argument on. He never told me then why he had come to this conclusion. I had no idea that he had been given erroneous information—gossip, basically—about me and was pivoting his entire case on this information.

Donna had been in the room with Moran for about an hour and fifteen minutes. A round of silence ensued as Donna sobbed quietly, staring down at her lap.

“I’ll tell you what,” Moran said. “I’ll let you go, but only under the condition that you come back this afternoon and tell me what really happened inside your house that night.” He paused before addressing Donna in a sharp, angry tone: “Or I am going to find you and arrest you.”

Donna got up. Moran opened the door.

“Do you need to use the ladies’ room?”

“No,” Donna said. She wanted to leave.

“This is the part of the job I hate,” Moran said.

Donna just looked at him.

Inside the elevator on the way downstairs, Donna trembled with anxiety and exhaustion. Moran did not say anything.

Maria was stunned as Donna approached. She stared at Donna and knew something was wrong. Donna looked rattled.

Maria expected Moran to sit down with her and hear her story. Donna knew he wouldn’t, not after what she had just gone through.

Sure enough, Moran declined to listen to Maria’s story of Jeff coming to her house.

“Let’s just go,” Donna said.

Moran watched as they walked out the door.

“Donna, I don’t understand, what happened?” Maria asked as they got into the car. Maria thought perhaps the WPD had discovered who the perpetrator was, and that Moran had given that terrible information to Donna. It could have been the only reason why Donna was so upset.

Donna was still shaking. “He told me that I was going to be arrested if I didn’t come back this afternoon and make up a story about what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They have something.”

“What?”

As they drove away from the WPD, Donna thought she was going to have to go home and invent some fiction about that night in order to keep her kids.

The theory that a cop was responsible for raping Donna became something she began to seriously consider as she and Maria drove toward their parents’ home. Donna thought:
Maybe I was framed . . . Moran knows who did it and he’s covering for him
.

Her mother and father sat and listened to her account of being verbally assaulted and interrogated by Lieutenant Moran. They could not believe what she was saying. The word Donna used later to describe her parents’ reaction was “incredulous.”