Obsession (34 page)

“We stress the importance of holding the abuser or murderer accountable for his actions and give people in the group the opportunity to work toward making that happen.

“We work for prevention and protection for people within our communities.” The unit makes it clear to victims that they have a legal right to know when someone who has harmed them is about to be released from prison or his legal or correctional status changes in some other way.

“And perhaps most vital of all is that we allow people to come together to talk about how important it is to honor the memory of those loved ones who have gone on, and remember them in a positive and meaningful way. We want to ensure that victims don’t die in vain and work together toward efforts to ensure that we never forget the loved one, that we never forget what happened or how it happened, but that we always glorify their memory.”

One of the ways this is done is through physical reminders. In some sessions, people are asked to bring in something that belonged to the loved one and talk about it. John and Louise Ireland brought in a tile bearing Dana’s handprint as a little girl.

“When he walked in with that,” says Carroll, “you could have scraped me off the floor.”

Kathleen Spencer, whose young son was beaten to death, brought in a little wooden box with her son’s important things in it. “And she went through that box and pulled out every one of those things,” Carroll remembers. “They were the last things he had.”

I remember visiting Jack and Trudy Collins in their home in North Carolina. Trudy brought out all the family relics—baby albums, photographs, report cards,
the works. And then she showed us an envelope containing a lock of Suzanne’s wispy golden baby hair from the first time Trudy cut it. And then Jack brought out the black-and-white hat (or cover, in military parlance) that Suzanne had worn so proudly with her Marine dress uniform. The juxtaposition of the two will be forever seared in my memory.

The survivors group session ends with the “feeling round,” in which Sandy asks each participant for a one-word description of how they feel. Words you are likely to hear are
sad, happy, hurt, angry, coping, impatient, confused, bewildered
. Carroll says, “My word is almost always
inspired
, because I find tremendous inspiration in the journey these people are making and the courage with which they do it. We find that this final round helps people to go out into the night after what is almost always an extremely emotional and intense session.”

As Sandy puts it, “The criminal justice system is not structured for emotions; it’s structured for law.” It might therefore seem difficult for an emotion-centered group such as the Victim-Witness Unit to fit in with a group of hardass detectives, and in a very real sense, it was.

Says Carroll, “Law enforcement is a male-dominated profession, and in order to be a cop it is expected that you will be tough and gung ho and aggressive. The sheer nature of the job itself requires that you be that way. And it’s very much like the military, that there are just certain gates that you have to go through and conduct yourself in a certain way.”

In other words, they had to earn their place at the table.

“In 1990,” Carroll recalls, “we worked with specific detectives on specific cases and we found a mixed bag. We found those people who understood how to use
us and used us effectively, and we found others unwilling to use us at all.

“Sandy and I each approached the challenge in our own way. I used my experience and my ability to work with people. I’d be polite and courteous and not intrusive and call up and say, ‘This is Carroll Ellis. I have a case and I need some information,’ or, ‘What can I do to help you?’ Eventually it won over some people who responded to that. I’ve since changed because I have become a little more policelike in my way of dealing with people, and I do that now with confidence as a result of the police experience.

“From the beginning, Sandy came in and demanded, because that’s her personality. She’s tenacious, and in some instances it worked because police officers looked at her and saw her style and recognized that it was something they could respect. There were others who were offended by that. Where did she get off? She’s gutsy and she’s elbowing her way to the table and she doesn’t have a place here.”

But gradually, as the old guard retired and the new generation saw what the unit could do, things turned around.

“When you get hardcore homicide cops calling a civilian woman out to a scene and feeling that you’re not going to get in the way and that you’re going to be okay, then you’ve been accepted,” says Carroll.

Fairfax County chief of police M. Douglas Scott puts it plainly: “It’s their ability to deal with the victims, to set them at ease, that may or may not lead to the ultimate solving of a crime.”

He explains, “I think that over time law enforcement has recognized that we need to be conscious of the impact the crime has on the victim, and that not only is it psychological, but also the way that they’re dealt with by law enforcement may influence greatly their cooperation in the case. Because the bottom line
is, if you are very cynical and if you are very hardened, the victim is going to pick up on that right from the outset and that level of cooperation is going to evaporate.

“I think that at the point that the unit came into the department, there was a void, and it was recognized by the detectives. They had huge caseloads, they were being torn in many directions, and the ability to have somebody else step in and do things like transportation to and from court, witness preparation, housing alternatives, these were things that traditionally the law enforcement officer just would not or could not do. After the unit was established and we began seeing results, then it was a very tight connection, and it has remained so.”

If something like this is going to work, though, there has to be an understanding that everyone is working in the same direction and on the same team. I’ve seen too many investigations go sour when this doesn’t happen. “We consider ourselves law enforcement personnel in this unit,” Carroll explains. “And one of the important criteria for being a member of this staff is that you understand the police experience and respect it. Now, that understanding doesn’t happen immediately unless you’ve come out of that kind of background, so we place heavy emphasis on staff growing and developing the police experience, which for me is a group of dedicated people who have chosen to do something special with their lives in keeping and protecting the public trust. Unless a new worker in this unit understands how fiercely police officers feel about what it is they do, they’ll never make that adjustment. They’ve got to understand that—that it’s very important, all these codes and all these laws and all these protocols that have to be lived with. We’ve got to walk within the guidelines on everything that we do.”

Homicide detective Robert “Bob” Murphy began
working with Carroll and the unit when he worked sex crimes. He sees them as advocates for victims and witnesses, representing their interests throughout the system. “They are there for that person. When they started, suddenly we found ourselves with a person we could hand the victim off to while we continued working on the case.”

Det. Dick Cline, also in homicide and another veteran of the Sex Crimes Unit, adds, “Before they came along, as a detective you had to wear several different hats, one of which was a social worker’s, trying to put the victim at ease and explain the system and get her ready for what she’s going to experience. A lot of victims thought they were being victimized again. They’ve been a very big help to us.”

When he has a large case with a lot of witnesses, Cline will use the unit to organize witnesses and get them ready to give statements while he pursues the immediate investigation. Detectives like Dick regard Carroll’s team as partners in their investigative work.

One of the most important functions involving any potential witness is preparing him or her for trial. Bob Murphy says that the Victim-Witness Unit has largely been able to take over that function from the detectives, freeing them up to work with the prosecutors in preparing the physical case.

Homicide detective Dennis Harris says, “Communication is the key. Victims want to help themselves, and if you let them know, “I can’t do this without you and so I need your help here,’ most times they’ll respond to that. Once they understand why things are being done the way they are, they want to help and they’ll start working with you that much harder.” This is a point Carroll stresses over and over again: victims need, are entitled to, and can process all of the important information about the case.

A member of the unit will go with the victim or
survivor to court appearances. Sometimes, in a murder case when there are no family or close friends, they will go anyway, just to make sure the dead person is represented. “I can remember in years gone by,” Carroll says, “where there was nobody else and Sandy or I would go to court and say, ‘We’re here for that person.’ Nobody else cared, or there were no family members. We would take that as a serious mission. And we would go to those sentencings and we were very much a part of any hearing.”

Or, if there is a survivor or loved one in the court-room, the victim coordinator will take it upon herself simply to act as an emotional buffer or bodyguard, which in this case is almost like being a physical protector. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in court when they bring in the defendant, he glares over at the victim or her family, and the look is one of contempt, rage, wounded innocence, or, sometimes worst of all, indifference. If the survivor has someone there with her to give her strength and support, it can make a world of difference.

Another need may be even more basic. Violent crime can mean a new set of expenses—some direct, some indirect. These can include funeral and burial costs, medical care, and psychological and physical therapy, even things as basic as bus or taxi fares to get to court or child care during hearings or trials. The Victim-Witness Unit can not only help out with these costs, but also aid the victim in securing grants for the larger expenses and financial losses he or she might suffer.

Aside from the homicide support group, there is another more general crime-victim support group, which Sandy runs. The unit also supports the department’s Child Sex Crimes Unit in the delicate task of preparing youthful victims to be witnesses. In this they work closely with both detectives and prosecutors so
that the child and the parents will become comfortable with the process and what they might face. Among the issues are ones as basic as making sure the child understands that it is the defendant, not the child, who is on trial. The victim coordinator will always praise the child for her courage, reassure her of her safety, and let her talk openly about her feelings and fears.

The unit has developed a checklist of things that children have said they find frightening. Together with the child, the coordinator will fill out the form, putting check marks under the three headings: Really Afraid, Sort of Afraid, Not At All Afraid. The categories covered are such concerns as going into the courtroom; the judge in black robes; promising to tell the truth; seeing the defendant (the person who did the wrong thing); sitting on the witness stand; talking into a microphone; saying words about the private parts of the body; being a child in an adult place. Once the coordinator has homed in on the fears, she can work with the child witness to allay them before the trial and before the child feels she has been revictimized by the system.

The next step is another list they came up with, entitled “What Would You Do If,” that includes such issues as someone asks you a question that you don’t understand; you feel angry or sad and start to cry; the attorneys start to argue with each other; someone in the courtroom looks mean; and even, you need to use the bathroom or you feel like you’re going to be sick. Under each of eleven scenarios there are three possible answers, and the coordinator will go over each one and discuss which is the best response under the circumstances.

Not only does this practice produce better witnesses and, therefore, better justice, it also goes a long way toward assuring that these innocents are not damaged
any further and, in fact, feel that they have had a positive role in seeing justice served.

As desensitized as we are to violent crime these days, there is a tendency almost to discount the significance of anything short of murder or rape. That is, until you’ve experienced it yourself. Then your perspective changes pretty quickly and you realize the value of the support the unit offers.

“I could call you if you had had a gun stuck at your head,” says Sandy, “and I could talk to you and offer our services. And the first thing you might say to me is, Oh, I’m fine. Thank you very much for calling.’ But if I dug deep enough with you and held you on the phone long enough, I would know that you were scared shitless at that moment and you could probably tell me that you were thinking about how you were never going to see your wife or kids again. That changes you. I want to make you understand that that’s why we’re here, and I know it’s not going to happen if I just fire off a letter that says, ‘We’re here if you think you need us.’”

The fact of the matter is that any encounter with violence or potential violence makes us feel violated and vulnerable. It perverts our sense of the natural and logical order of things, of basic fairness and benevolence. And once they are gone, it is not easy to reclaim feelings of security and stability in our lives.

Well-meaning friends might tell us how lucky we were, that “it could have been a lot worse” we might have been killed or seriously injured. But that is just the point. Once we experience firsthand how capricious life can be in this context, we may begin to brood upon how tenuously we are connected to everything we love and hold valuable, how fragile is our sense of control. This is one of the many things the violent criminal steals from us.

When Sandy talks about “getting in the moment” with the victim, what she means is being able to understand just what the crime meant to him or her. Maybe this rape was the worst thing she could imagine, the worst thing that could have happened to her, a kind of death or worse. Or maybe she feels lucky to be alive, that she survived the ordeal. Both of these reactions are completely understandable, completely valid. But each requires a different response from Sandy or her associates, and that can only be achieved by getting in that moment.