21-07-2026, 04:32 AM
CHAPTER 4: YOU KNOW I’M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU
I like television shows about cops and prosecutors, like “Law and Order.” When I have the time, I try to read novels about attorneys, from classics like “To Kill A Mockingbird” to the modern works like Grisham’s “A Time To Kill” and “Anatomy of a Murder” both the book and the movie.
Too much of a good thing? Obsessive? Not really. The great thing about fiction is that you can make things work out the way they should. In real life… too many times to remember I had seen cases I knew would result in a conviction wind up with guilty bastards walking out of the courtroom.
And a few times I or other SAs had prosecuted cases we thought would never fly but needed to be brought before juries, and somehow we won. I’d learned the hard way never to predict which way juries would jump, and as far as I’m concerned, any attorney who said he or should could predict juries was lying – or deluded.
So I had no illusions about bringing William Sutton to justice and even a seemingly open and shut case like Shawn Smith could go sour.
But I needed a win. On something. Because I’d lost Debbie and I was going to lose Aline. Putting Sutton away wouldn’t make my life better, but it would help me believe for a little while that sometimes things worked out the way they should.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2005 4 P.M.
She came out of the dream gasping. Teller held her tight against him until the shivering stopped. He’d prepared her, but as he’d expected, he hadn’t needed to empty her stomach this time. Although she heaved and gasped, she didn’t spew any vomit.
“What else?”
“I saw the bathroom more clearly. It had to be in a big restaurant or hotel. There were a half dozen stalls and four or five urinals. The floor had been clean, but then it there was....urine...piss... all over the floor all over me.”
He continued his silence.
“I tasted....piss....and....semen....cum......not the first time...cum I mean. ”
She gave him an embarrassed little smile.
“I mean...doctor, most women know what cum...semen tastes like. guys love
it when you swallow....so I knew that...but piss. God, I can’t understand women
that like that....my God. ”
‘Yes...but.....why? The memory is even clearer now. It should be worse, shouldn’t it?”
“Not necessarily. It was a nightmarish experience the first time and to a certain extent the second time. Nightmares act on a subconscious level. What you’re afraid of isn’t necessarily what you remember. Now you’re remembering what happened more clearly, and it isn’t affecting you as strongly.”
She sat up on the couch, putting her feet under her and brushing her skirt which had risen up almost to her panties down with her hands.
“Why wouldn’t it hit me as hard? It was so damned disgusting....so.....I told you that I like dominant men. I did....do....like men that take control of me. but
not bang...not like that. ”
“It was pretty bad even from an objective, male point of view...but. ”
“But what?”
“There’s a reason why it’s losing its impact on you, Debbie. A reason you realize even as you can’t get it clear in your mind.
“I don’t....I’m not sure.....I.....I don’t know why but I....do feel it...why doesn’t it bother me as much?”
“Think about it.”
She looked down at the Rorschach design on the coffee table and tried to get the memory clearer in her head. But while parts of it were crystal clear, it...didn’t....feel right....
“I don’t know, Doctor...it’s just that....something....something doesn’t feel right.”
He took one of her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “I know. Tell me what your assailants looked like.”
“One of them was....dark haired....tall, maybe six foot one or two....slender....another was a few inches shorter, still taller than me...he was thinning on top....light brown hair...they were all wearing suits...not real fancy...dress, but business suits....the third one was blonde, heavy...a little chubby...”
“And how old did they appear?”
She tried to remember how they’d gotten her to go in there. She couldn’t be a big enough slut to walk into a restroom on the spur of the moment with three strangers for a gangbang. It had to have been arranged. But the memory didn’t come.
“Nothing? What happened after they left you covered in their urine and semen on that bathroom floor?”
Again, nothing would come to her. The memory started with her in the restroom and ended with her on the floor.
“They weren’t teenagers, were they? And yet they were calling you an old slut and expressing their disgust for you, to the point of refusing to bang you for fear of disease. Unless it occurred last week, you must have been in your mid to late 30s because it wasn’t until that time that you said your marriage started to fall apart.”
He looked her body up and down again and said, “I’m not flattering you to say that you are an attractive woman who doesn’t look your age. And your description of the three men makes them look roughly your age. There’s no reason they would be talking about you in those terms as an older woman, unless. ”
“It’s a false memory. A fake memory. It’s built on other knowledge and...wanting. to have seen it.”
“How could that be the case in this?”
“I’m not sure right now. But, everything fits. A true memory has broader scope and it...has more detail. Your detail is crystal clear, but sharply limited. You can’t remember anything before or after...how it happened. the
aftermath...Eventually or by this time some of those details would have been working their way into your conscious mind.
“But, at the same time, you have a clearer view of what happened, of the people involved, than anyone could have...if they weren’t there when it happened. You couldn’t have those events so clearly established if it was something you only heard about.”
She shook her head again.
“I still don’t see. I was there, but I wasn’t?”
“If I’m guessing right, you were there. You saw the assault, or its aftermath, but you weren’t the victim. It had to be someone very close to you to have had
the emotional impact that this incident had on you personally. And it had to be an older woman. Does anyone fit that profile?”
“Clarice...my Aunt Clarice.”
“That was my thought. I think something happened to her and you were close by or involved in some way. I think that over time, especially after she died, the incident festered in your subconscious and eventually worked its way into your mind as a dreamlike memory.”
They stared at each other. Debbie listened to the muted rhythm of the Grandfather clock and thought about her aunt.
“But there’s something else, Debbie. Something that doesn’t make sense right now.”
“A lot of this doesn’t’ make sense, Doctor, but at least I’m not hurling and I don’t feel sick to my stomach. What?”
“The repressed, transformed, memory has been in your mind since before your aunt died—committed suicide. What triggered it?”
It didn’t take a moment. “The divorce.”
“That’s what it seems like. It rumbled around inside your mind until your divorce was finalized, and then it came roaring back. So not only does your ex arouse feelings of rage and anger, but your final breakup brought a false memory of yourself being bangd and abused to the forefront on your memory.”
She put her head in her hands.
“That doesn’t make sense, Doctor. Every bad thing I could ever think of to say about Bill would never include involvement in something like that. Why would I associate the attack with him? With our divorce?”
He sat back and stretched.
‘I don’t know, Debbie. Like I said, that’s what makes psychiatry fascinating.
There has to be a link. We just haven’t discovered it yet.”
She looked up at him and he was surprised to find her smiling. “What?”
“I just realized, doctor. I didn’t.....I didn’t cheat on him....the way I thought I had. I might have been a bad wife, but I wasn’t a complete slut. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. Now maybe I can.”
Colman stepped out of the passenger side and while the driver went to open the back door of the cruiser he walked over to me with a big smile.
I like television shows about cops and prosecutors, like “Law and Order.” When I have the time, I try to read novels about attorneys, from classics like “To Kill A Mockingbird” to the modern works like Grisham’s “A Time To Kill” and “Anatomy of a Murder” both the book and the movie.
Too much of a good thing? Obsessive? Not really. The great thing about fiction is that you can make things work out the way they should. In real life… too many times to remember I had seen cases I knew would result in a conviction wind up with guilty bastards walking out of the courtroom.
And a few times I or other SAs had prosecuted cases we thought would never fly but needed to be brought before juries, and somehow we won. I’d learned the hard way never to predict which way juries would jump, and as far as I’m concerned, any attorney who said he or should could predict juries was lying – or deluded.
So I had no illusions about bringing William Sutton to justice and even a seemingly open and shut case like Shawn Smith could go sour.
But I needed a win. On something. Because I’d lost Debbie and I was going to lose Aline. Putting Sutton away wouldn’t make my life better, but it would help me believe for a little while that sometimes things worked out the way they should.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2005 4 P.M.
She came out of the dream gasping. Teller held her tight against him until the shivering stopped. He’d prepared her, but as he’d expected, he hadn’t needed to empty her stomach this time. Although she heaved and gasped, she didn’t spew any vomit.
“oh...oh.....oh... ”
He laid her back against the couch and watched her as the tears streamed down her face. She gasped for air, caught her breath and closed her eyes tight, then opened them and wiped then tears off.“Doctor.”
“How are you feeling, Debbie?”
“I feel....terrible...disgusted....I can smell that bathroom........................................................................................ ”
He sat watching her without speaking. He wanted to see what she brought back from the experience.
“I saw their faces. Clearly this time. The last time it was....foggy...................................................................................... or
something. But I could pick them out of a lineup this time. I remembered them. Her hands curled into fists.
“The miserable bastards. If I could find them, I’d-“
“What else?”
“I saw the bathroom more clearly. It had to be in a big restaurant or hotel. There were a half dozen stalls and four or five urinals. The floor had been clean, but then it there was....urine...piss... all over the floor all over me.”
He continued his silence.
“I tasted....piss....and....semen....cum......not the first time...cum I mean. ”
She gave him an embarrassed little smile.
“I mean...doctor, most women know what cum...semen tastes like. guys love
it when you swallow....so I knew that...but piss. God, I can’t understand women
that like that....my God. ”
He leaned toward her and caught her gaze.
“Do you realize how this experience was different from the last time?” “What do you mean?”
“Do you remember how you were last time?” “I—what are you saying?”
“Think back to the last time. When you came back. What did you do?” “I-“
She looked at him in surprise.
“I was vomiting...not as bad as the first time since you’d gotten me cleaned out, but I still have thrown up my lungs if I could.”
“So you had a violent physical reaction to the memory of what happened/” “Yeah, yes I did.”
“And what else?”
She rubbed her face.
“I....I....guess... I’m not as upset as I was the last time........................................................................................ ”
“Remember, you were panicked...this time you were upset when you first awoke, but. now you’re calm again. Very quickly this time. Did you notice?”‘Yes...but.....why? The memory is even clearer now. It should be worse, shouldn’t it?”
“Not necessarily. It was a nightmarish experience the first time and to a certain extent the second time. Nightmares act on a subconscious level. What you’re afraid of isn’t necessarily what you remember. Now you’re remembering what happened more clearly, and it isn’t affecting you as strongly.”
She sat up on the couch, putting her feet under her and brushing her skirt which had risen up almost to her panties down with her hands.
“Why wouldn’t it hit me as hard? It was so damned disgusting....so.....I told you that I like dominant men. I did....do....like men that take control of me. but
not bang...not like that. ”
“It was pretty bad even from an objective, male point of view...but. ”
“But what?”
“There’s a reason why it’s losing its impact on you, Debbie. A reason you realize even as you can’t get it clear in your mind.
“I don’t....I’m not sure.....I.....I don’t know why but I....do feel it...why doesn’t it bother me as much?”
“Think about it.”
She looked down at the Rorschach design on the coffee table and tried to get the memory clearer in her head. But while parts of it were crystal clear, it...didn’t....feel right....
“I don’t know, Doctor...it’s just that....something....something doesn’t feel right.”
He took one of her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “I know. Tell me what your assailants looked like.”
“One of them was....dark haired....tall, maybe six foot one or two....slender....another was a few inches shorter, still taller than me...he was thinning on top....light brown hair...they were all wearing suits...not real fancy...dress, but business suits....the third one was blonde, heavy...a little chubby...”
“And how old did they appear?”
“I...uh....maybe in their late 20s...early 30s...not old...” “They weren’t teenagers?”
“No.”
“Okay, tell me what you were doing before you went into the restroom with them?”She tried to remember how they’d gotten her to go in there. She couldn’t be a big enough slut to walk into a restroom on the spur of the moment with three strangers for a gangbang. It had to have been arranged. But the memory didn’t come.
“Nothing? What happened after they left you covered in their urine and semen on that bathroom floor?”
Again, nothing would come to her. The memory started with her in the restroom and ended with her on the floor.
“I can’t remember.” “I’m not surprised.” “What do you mean?”
“Think about this. Do you remember how they talked to you as they assaulted you, as you fellated them?”
She thought about it. She remembered the insults, the jeers. “And there’s nothing about that that struck you as odd?” “Just that...”
He saw the realization strike her. She looked at him with surprise in her eyes.
“They weren’t teenagers, were they? And yet they were calling you an old slut and expressing their disgust for you, to the point of refusing to bang you for fear of disease. Unless it occurred last week, you must have been in your mid to late 30s because it wasn’t until that time that you said your marriage started to fall apart.”
He looked her body up and down again and said, “I’m not flattering you to say that you are an attractive woman who doesn’t look your age. And your description of the three men makes them look roughly your age. There’s no reason they would be talking about you in those terms as an older woman, unless. ”
“Unless I were an older woman.” He smiled.
“And since you are not an older woman that means that........................................................................................ ”
She shook her head, unable to grasp what she’d just said.
“How could the memory not be real? It felt so real. It was just a....dream. a
nightmare?”
“It was a memory....but not one... ”
“I don’t understand.”
“Everyone, I think, has heard of people who can remember where they were when the Twin Towers were struck. Or when Pearl Harbor was hit. Or during the big football game that was the biggest event of their childhood. People that were nowhere near a television screen will remember seeing it in vivid detail years from now. And they’ll swear under oath they actually did see it. And they’ll believe they saw it.“It’s a false memory. A fake memory. It’s built on other knowledge and...wanting. to have seen it.”
“How could that be the case in this?”
“I’m not sure right now. But, everything fits. A true memory has broader scope and it...has more detail. Your detail is crystal clear, but sharply limited. You can’t remember anything before or after...how it happened. the
aftermath...Eventually or by this time some of those details would have been working their way into your conscious mind.
“But, at the same time, you have a clearer view of what happened, of the people involved, than anyone could have...if they weren’t there when it happened. You couldn’t have those events so clearly established if it was something you only heard about.”
She shook her head again.
“I still don’t see. I was there, but I wasn’t?”
“If I’m guessing right, you were there. You saw the assault, or its aftermath, but you weren’t the victim. It had to be someone very close to you to have had
the emotional impact that this incident had on you personally. And it had to be an older woman. Does anyone fit that profile?”
“Clarice...my Aunt Clarice.”
“That was my thought. I think something happened to her and you were close by or involved in some way. I think that over time, especially after she died, the incident festered in your subconscious and eventually worked its way into your mind as a dreamlike memory.”
They stared at each other. Debbie listened to the muted rhythm of the Grandfather clock and thought about her aunt.
“But there’s something else, Debbie. Something that doesn’t make sense right now.”
“A lot of this doesn’t’ make sense, Doctor, but at least I’m not hurling and I don’t feel sick to my stomach. What?”
“The repressed, transformed, memory has been in your mind since before your aunt died—committed suicide. What triggered it?”
It didn’t take a moment. “The divorce.”
“That’s what it seems like. It rumbled around inside your mind until your divorce was finalized, and then it came roaring back. So not only does your ex arouse feelings of rage and anger, but your final breakup brought a false memory of yourself being bangd and abused to the forefront on your memory.”
She put her head in her hands.
“That doesn’t make sense, Doctor. Every bad thing I could ever think of to say about Bill would never include involvement in something like that. Why would I associate the attack with him? With our divorce?”
He sat back and stretched.
‘I don’t know, Debbie. Like I said, that’s what makes psychiatry fascinating.
There has to be a link. We just haven’t discovered it yet.”
She looked up at him and he was surprised to find her smiling. “What?”
“I just realized, doctor. I didn’t.....I didn’t cheat on him....the way I thought I had. I might have been a bad wife, but I wasn’t a complete slut. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. Now maybe I can.”
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2005 4 P.M.
I was waiting at the door to the Duval County Jail booking office as the cruiser pulled up into the parking lot behind the jail entrance. It was a Marion County Sheriff’s Office cruiser.Colman stepped out of the passenger side and while the driver went to open the back door of the cruiser he walked over to me with a big smile.
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