Perfect Murder, Perfect Town - Lawrence Schiller [136]
Both advocates remembered Patsy’s hysteria as she sobbed and carried on. One of them had heard Patsy say, “If only it were me, I’d trade places with Jonnie B. Oh, please let her be safe, please let her be safe.” Other than that, they had nothing more to contribute.
About 40 percent of the cases I deal with involve death, either by accident or by foul play. Grief, loss of a loved one, and guilt are always present in the survivors. No training can prepare anyone for the intensity that surrounds the loss of a loved one, especially the death of a child.
In the immediate aftermath, the victims don’t need therapy. They don’t need counseling. They need someone to recognize and meet their needs. Sometimes they need to be encouraged to tell their story. The sooner they can express themselves, the less likely they are to shut down. During good crisis intervention, you create a safe space for someone to vent.
When a victim becomes a suspect, it can be difficult for an advocate. A few can adjust, accept it as part of the nature of the work. Many can’t see it that way. They feel used. They hate the idea that they helped a criminal.
—Anonymous victim advocate
5
Jeff Shapiro started to hang out at Pasta Jay’s. He drank a few beers and watched John Ramsey’s son bus tables. He was at a loss about how to gain John Andrew’s confidence now that his cover had been blown.
One night Shapiro wrote John Andrew a letter and left it with a waitress at the restaurant. As he walked out to his car, Shapiro looked back and saw Ramsey’s son open it.
Unlike every other reporter working on this case, I have a different perspective. I have an interest in challenging the mainstream media, and exonerating anyone who is getting unfairly attacked by the media. I have a particular interest in helping you. I am a protector. This is not just about ambition for me. There are still people who care about the truth: not everyone is deceiving and evil. All I ever wanted was the opportunity to become your friend. I wanted to leave here knowing I made a difference; knowing I had protected an innocent person from the onslaught of the judgmental media. I follow the advice Michael Dukakis offered me: ‘Always tell the truth.’ Only a reporter, one with great passion and ethics, can undo what the media has already done.
When a week passed and Shapiro hadn’t heard back, he called John Andrew’s mother, Lucinda, in Atlanta. Shapiro wanted to know whether an unsubstantiated rumor that Melinda had checked into a Georgia health clinic for depression was true. This time, he introduced himself as a freelance college journalist living in Boulder.
“Some people are saying these awful things about Melinda,” Shapiro said.
“She’s wonderful,” Lucinda replied. “Just fine. The rumor you’ve heard is ridiculous.”
Lucinda asked Shapiro if he knew her son. He said that he’d met John Andrew. Then he told Lucinda that his name was Jeff Scott.
“Are you the one who wrote him a letter?”
“Yes,” Shapiro replied.
“I don’t want to talk to you. Don’t ever call this house.” She hung up.
Shapiro was still determined to impress his editors, however. He took to driving around town in the hope of spotting someone involved in the investigation. One day he saw Alex Hunter walking alone toward the Justice Center. After taking a quick shot of Hunter with his disposable camera, Shapiro pulled up next to the DA.
“Are you Alex?”
“Yes, I am,” Hunter said with a smile.
Shapiro told Hunter that he was an investigative reporter working on the Ramsey case but didn’t mention the Globe. He told the DA that he’d worked on the Simpson case with Stephen Singular, a Denver author.
“Oh really?” Hunter said, and asked Shapiro to park his car so they could talk.
They stood out in front of the Justice Center despite the March chill. They discussed, among other subjects, pedophilia, Barry Scheck, and Henry Lee. Shapiro told Hunter he’d heard that the “semen” found on JonBenét’s body was really some kind of liquid soap, like