But the rooms I'd seen on cop shows were nothing like this one. The mirror took up a whole wall. On the other side of the wall was a space little wider than a mans shoulders, so that when they entered and turned, the front of their bodies would be almost flush against the mirror. I would share the same square foot of floor with the suspects; my rapist would be standing right in front of me.
Lorenz gave the order over a microphone and the light was switched on, on the other side of the mirror. Five black men in almost identical light blue shirts and dark blue pants walked in and assumed their places.
"You can move closer, Alice," Lorenz said.
"It's not one, two, or three," I said.
"You don't need to rush," Uebelhoer said. "Move closer and take a good look at each of them."
"I can have them turn to the left or right," Lorenz said. Paquette was quiet.
I did as instructed. I moved closer, even though, already, they appeared close enough to touch.
"Can you have them turn to the side?" I asked.
They were asked to turn to the left. Each of them, individually. When they faced front again, I drew back.
"Can they see me?" I asked.
"They can see a movement on the glass," Lorenz said, "but they can't see you, no. They know when someone's standing in front of them but they won't know who it is."
I took this at face value. I did not say, "Who else could it be?" There had been no one else with us in that tunnel. I stood in front of number one. He looked too young. I moved to two. He looked nothing like the suspect. Out of the corner of my eye I already knew the challenge came two men down, but I stood in front of three long enough to agree with my earlier assessment. He was too tall; his build was wrong. I stood in front of number four. He was not looking at me. While he looked toward the floor I saw his shoulders. Wide like my rapist's, and powerful. The shape of his head and neck-just like my rapist's. His build, his nose, his lips. I hugged my arms across my chest and stared.
"Alice, are you all right?" someone asked.
Paquette objected.
I felt I had done something wrong.
I moved on to number five. His build was right, his height. And he was looking at me, looking right at me, as if he knew I was there. Knew who I was. The expression in his eyes told me that if we were alone, if there were no wall between us, he would call me by name and then kill me. His eyes gripped on and controlled. I mustered all my energy and turned around.
"I'm ready," I said.
"Are you sure?" Lorenz said.
"She said she was ready," Paquette said.
I approached the clipboard while Lorenz held it for me. Everyone watched-Gail, Paquette, and Lorenz. I placed my X in the number-five box. I had marked the wrong one.
I was excused. I saw Tricia in the hall.
"How was it?"
"Number four and five looked like identical twins," I said, before the uniformed policeman assigned to me led me into the conference room nearby.
"Make sure she doesn't talk to anyone," Lorenz said, ducking his head in. His tone was a reprimand, now that I already had.
In the conference room I searched the eyes of the uniformed man for whether I had chosen the right one. But his face was impassive. I felt a wave of nausea hit me and paced the floor in between the conference table and a row of chairs against the wall. My throat was thick and clogged. I became convinced in those moments that I had chosen the wrong man. I told myself I had acted on impulse, not considered the two men and their postures long enough. I had been so intent on getting it over with that I hadn't been thorough. Ever since I'd been little my parents had accused me of this: not taking my time, acting rashly, jumping the gun.
The door opened and a downcast Lorenz walked in. I could see Gail out in the hallway. He closed the door.
"It was four, wasn't it?" I asked him.
Lorenz was big and burly, a sort of sitcom-father stereotype with a more gritty, Northeastern twist. I sensed immediately that I had disappointed him. He didn't need to say anything. I had chosen the wrong one. It was number four.
"You were in a hurry to get out of there," he said.
"It was four."
"I can't tell you anything," he said. "Uebelhoer wants an affidavit. She wants you to detail the lineup for her. Tell us exactly why you chose five."
"Where is she?" I was suddenly frantic. I felt myself collapsing inward. I had failed them all and this was the wrap-up. Uebelhoer would go on to other cases, better victims; she had no time to waste with a failure like me.
"The suspect has agreed to provide samples of his pubic hair," Lorenz said, and couldn't help but grin. "Counsel has elected to be present in the men's room for extraction."
"Why would he do that?" I asked.
"Because he has reason to believe that the hair found on your person the night of the incident may not match his."
"But it will," I said. "He has to know that."
"His lawyer weighed the odds and decided to do it. It looks good if they volunteer. We need to take a statement. You sit tight."
He went to find paper and to attend to things I couldn't know. The uniform left me alone in the room. "You'll be safe in here," he said.
During that time I put two and two together: I had identified the wrong man. Directly afterward, Paquette had agreed to voluntary extraction of a pubic hair from his client. Uebelhoer had told me the defense was building a case based on misidentification. A panicked white girl saw a black man on the street. He spoke familiarly to her and in her mind she connected this to her rape. She was accusing the wrong man. The lineup went directly to this.
I sat down at the conference table. I brought it all together in my mind. Thought of what had just happened to me. I had been so afraid, I had chosen the man who scared me most, the one who had been looking at me. I felt I had just caught on-too late-to a trick.
Lorenz was going to be back any minute. I needed to rebuild my case.
When Lorenz returned, he smiled while telling me that Madison's pubic hair had to be plucked, not cut. He was trying to be jolly in front of me.
He took an affidavit. It noted that I had entered the room at 11:05 and left at 11:11.1 quickly gave my reasons for ruling out the men in positions one, two, and three. I compared four and five and noted they looked similar, with four's features being a bit "flatter and broader" than the suspect's. I said that four had been looking down the whole time and that I chose five because he was looking right at me. I added that I had felt rushed and defense counsel's refusal to allow a member of Rape Crisis in the lineup room had further intimidated me. I said that I never got a good look at four's eyes and said again that I chose five because he was looking at me.
The room was quiet for a moment, save the noise of Lorenz's hunt-and-peck typing.
"Alice," he said, "it is now my duty to inform you that you failed to pick out the suspect." He did not tell me which one was the suspect. He couldn't. But I knew.
He noted that he had informed me of my failure, and I stated, for the record, that in my opinion the men in positions four and five were almost identical.
Uebelhoer came into the room. There were other people with her. Police and Tricia now. Uebelhoer was angry, but she smiled nonetheless.
"Well, we got the hair out of the bastard," she said.
"Officer Lorenz told me I chose the wrong one," I said.
"She thinks it was four," Lorenz said.
The two of them looked at each other for a moment. Gail turned to me.