Hackett and the others took seats at one end of the room, behind Cora, who sat in a chair facing Krendler. As he connected her to the machine, she tried to remain calm.
This was her moment of reckoning.
Krendler began with establishing questions, reminding Cora to answer “yes” or “no.”
“Is your name Cora Martin?”
“Yes.”
“Did you change your name from Cora Gannon?”
“Yes.”
“Were you born in Buffalo, New York?”
“Yes.”
“Are your parents deceased?”
The needles scratched the graph paper. “Yes.”
“Do you have any sisters?”
“No.”
“Do you have any brothers?”
“Yes.”
“Is Jack Gannon your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Cora hesitated.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I did.”
“Answer yes or no, please.”
“No.”
“Are you employed at Quick Draw Courier?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know Lyle Galviera?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have a romantic relationship with Lyle Galviera?”
“Yes.”
“Was your daughter kidnapped from your house?”
“Yes.”
“Are you in any way responsible for her kidnapping?”
Cora hesitated for one moment, then another.
“Are you in any way responsible for her kidnapping?”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I feel that I am.”
“Answer yes or no, please.”
“I don’t know.”
Krendler made notations on the graph paper with his fountain pen.
“We’ll move on. Prior to your daughter’s kidnapping, were you aware of Lyle Galviera’s involvement in any illegal activity?”
“No.”
“Did you know he associated with people involved in criminal activity?”
“No.”
“Do you presently know the whereabouts of Lyle Galviera?”
“No.”
“Since the kidnapping, have you had any contact with Lyle Galviera?”
“No.”
“Do you presently know the whereabouts of your daughter?”
“No.”
“Do you know who is responsible for your daughter’s kidnapping?”
“No.”
“Have you ever used illegal drugs?”
“Yes.”
“Are you currently using illegal drugs?”
“No.”
“Do you know Octavio Sergio Salazar?”
“No. Wait, yes. No. I mean I know that name from the news reports on the men murdered-”
“Answer yes or no, please. Do you know Octavio Sergio Salazar?”
“No.”
“Do you know John Walker Johnson?”
“No.”
“Do you know Ruiz Limon-Rocha?”
“No.”
“Do you know Alfredo Hector Tecaza?”
“No.”
“Do you know of Carlos Manolo Sanchez, or anyone using that alias?”
“No.”
“Did you ever reside in San Francisco, California?”
“Yes.”
“Were you residing in San Francisco in 1991?”
“Yes.”
“Were you using illegal drugs at that time?”
“Yes.”
“Did you commit any criminal acts at that time?”
Cora’s chin crumpled.
“Did you commit any criminal acts at that time?”
“Yes.”
“Were you ever arrested for your crimes?”
“No.”
“Do you know Donald Montradori?”
“No.”
“Do you know a man named Donnie Cargo?”
“Yes.”
“Did you associate with Donnie Cargo in San Francisco?”
Cora hesitated and started breathing a little deeper.
“Yes.”
“Did you and Donnie Cargo associate with a man named Vic?”
“Yes.”
“Did you associate with Eduardo Zartosa?”
“No.”
“Did you ever know a person named Eduardo Zartosa?”
“No. I don’t know who that is.”
“Yes or no, please.”
“No.”
“Were you, Vic and Donnie Cargo ever in the vicinity of Haight-Ashbury in 1991?” Cora hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Were you in the vicinity of Belvedere and Waller?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“Was a fourth person present?”
“Yes.”
“Was a gun present?”
“Yes.”
Tears rolled down her face. It was raining so hard that night…
…Donnie wheels the car hard…there’s a shadow standing under the building’s overhang…taking shelter from the rain… She’s with Donnie and Vic. Vic’s angry. Crazy mother is dealing on my territory… Donnie and Vic leap out…don’t leave me alone…she’s so wired…wired to heaven she floats from the car…floating…everything turns blue…shouting…arguing…she’s there…no, she’s not anywhere… Vic’s shouting, swearing… What’s happening…a gun…the muzzle flashes fire in the night… CRACK…groaning…
“Was someone shot?”
“Yes.”
“Were you present when someone was shot?”
…screams…now there’s a hot gun in her hand and someone’s squirming on the ground… Donnie…Vic, what’s happening…she’s holding the gun…why…why is the gun in her hand…did she fire the gun…the car is leaving… Donnie and Vic are leaving…leaving her behind… DONNIEEE… VIC…
“Were you present when someone was shot?”
…everything is blue…confusing in the rain…who’ll stop the rain…trouble on the rise…a hand seizes her ankle…a voice gurgling…begging…pulling her down to her knees…to see that he’s young like her…scared like her…eyes blazing…help me…he squeezes…God help!!… por favor… touching him…warm blood on her hands…so much blood…help me…he’s been shot…somebody help…the rain glistening on his face…he’s young like her…begging in Spanish…por favor…por favor… he’s praying in Spanish…he’s dying…I’m sorry…por favor… she supports his head…I’m so sorry…holds his hand…sirens approaching…por favor… sirens getting louder…she’s alone with him…with the gun…blood on her hands…sirens…I’m sorry…they’re coming…por favor… he’s calling his mother…he’s dying…she has to go…por favor… I’m sorry…she has to run…but she can’t leave him to die like this…I’m so sorry…she removes her necklace…a crucifix…he receives it…crushes it hard in his hand…blood to blood…I’m so sorry…blood on her hands she runs away…por favor… his pleas echo…follow her, haunt her in the rain…rip into her…por favor… she throws the gun into the trash and runs…God please forgive me…and runs…leaving him to die…alone in the rain clutching the crucifix her mother and father gave her for her fourteenth birthday at the kitchen table in their home in Buffalo…she ached for home…sirens are screaming…she is screaming…and running…running for her life…
Krendler is asking her…
“Was someone shot?”
“Yes.”
“Were you present when someone was shot?”
“Yes.”
“Did you shoot someone?”
The needles of the polygraph swayed wildly as if scratching in desperation.
“Did you shoot anyone?”
She turned in her chair. Her eyes filled with pain, she found her brother.
“Cora, please face me and answer the question,” Krendler said. “Did you shoot anyone?”
Cora did not turn back. She met the stares of Hackett, Pruitt and the other investigators.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she said.
Krendler disconnected Cora from the machine. Then, against Baker-Brown’s advice, she began recounting all she could of that rainy night.
“I was so stoned. I nearly died later when Vic told me that I shot the guy, that I took the gun from them and shot him. I don’t remember doing that. I really don’t think I did that. I was so wired. Donnie disappeared. I never saw Donnie again. But Vic told me I did it.” Cora sobbed. “Maybe I did. Vic said that the kid was connected to very bad drug people who would come after me, come after my family in Buffalo. So I could never go home again. Never contact my family. Vic said he would watch over me, that what happened would be our secret, that I had to hide and never breathe a word to anyone. I was terrified. He sent me to New York, then Miami. Then I went to L.A., where he had set things up.”
Cora was anguished by what she’d done.
“I never should have left him to die alone. After the shooting I wondered about him. Who was the young man who died on the street in the rain? Did he have a family? I was going to check the San Francisco papers to see what they’d reported, but I didn’t. It was too painful. I didn’t want to know. I never knew anything about him.”