She’d been lead on the Dahmer investigation. “I agree. Definitely.” But then she saw the skepticism in my eyes. “What is it, Patrick?” My friends call me Pat, so I was cool with her calling me Patrick.
“I think it’s premature to try guessing what this guy was trying to communicate by his actions or to conclude anything ‘definite’ about them.”
“Well,” Ralph said to me, “you were there last night. Any ideas on possible motive?”
“I’m not one to speculate on motives. The real issue here isn’t ‘why it happened’ but ‘what happened.’ On the surface there’s a connection, but-”
“Hang on.” Ellen adjusted her glasses. “You don’t speculate on motives? What does that mean-you don’t look for them?”
“No. I don’t. I’d rather-”
“Patrick doesn’t believe in motives.” It was Corsica, a clear challenge in her tone.
“Actually,” I countered, “that’s not quite right. I do believe in motives, but more specifically in reasons. We all have reasons for the things we do. All behavior is, to some extent at least, undertaken to achieve a goal, but since trying to figure out specifically what that goal is-considering that the person doing it might not even know why he’s doing it-ends up being fruitless, nothing more than a guessing game, I don’t put much stock in the process. Besides, nowhere in our justice system does the law require showing motive.”
“But what about first-degree murder or arson?” Corsica pressed me. “You need to prove intent in arson cases; premeditation to get a first-degree murder conviction.”
“Premeditation and intent are different from motive.” There was no way I should’ve had to be explaining this to her, especially not here in front of everyone. But she wasn’t letting it drop and if she wanted a lesson, I could give her one. “Intent is what you’re trying to accomplish, premeditation is how you’re going to go about it, but motive is the reason why. The first two can be proven beyond reasonable doubt, the third cannot.”
She gave me a dubious look, and I took it as a prompt to go on. “People act certain ways because of needs, desires, unconscious impulses, habits, goals, personality differences-all those things affect our choices and actions, and all of them intertwine with each other. It’s impossible to untangle them and surmise their collective, or even their respective, influence in one word like ‘greed’ or ‘lust’ or ‘hatred.’ Besides, in the end, the why is always the same. Ultimately, all criminals commit their crimes for the same reason.”
Ralph eyed me curiously. “And that is?”
“Because they believe it will make them happy.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Everything they do?”
“Yes. Just like us.”
“Come on, Patrick.” Corsica sounded like she was mimicking a schoolteacher reprimanding a child. “Even you don’t believe that everything everyone does is just because they’re trying to be happy. You’re just trying to be provocative and this isn’t the time or place for those kinds of games.”
Alrighty, then.
We could do this.
I took a breath and picked up the gauntlet that’d been tossed at my feet.
13
“Annise, no one ever chooses to do something that he thinks will make him miserable. Whether it’s drugs, murder, workaholism, I don’t care, it doesn’t matter-even suicide-people act in ways they believe will bring relief, pleasure, or satisfaction. It all boils down to the desire for happiness. Happiness is the end to which we all aspire.” I wasn’t the first one to point this out; philosophers have noted it for centuries. For some reason, law enforcement has been slow to pick up on it.
But now I could tell it wasn’t just Corsica. Ellen remained skeptical as welclass="underline" “But people punish themselves all the time, Patrick. Mentally, emotionally, psychologically, physically. You’re saying that they’re doing it because they believe mental illness or social isolation makes them happy?”
“No. But why do people torture themselves emotionally?”
“Because of guilt or shame or low self-esteem,” she answered, “or any number of reasons.”
“But what is the goal? People don’t dwell on their guilt or shame, beat themselves up emotionally, or isolate themselves socially in the hopes that they’ll feel worse, but because they hope it’ll eventually make them feel better-maybe about their penance, or as a way to quantify their guilt, or to quiet their consciences or to distract themselves or rationalize away their pain, or, as you just said, for any number of reasons. But ultimately, they want to be happy.”
Ralph seemed to be right with me. “And you’re saying it’s the same for the guy who killed these women?”
“Yes. Criminals aren’t essentially different from other people. They might commit crimes we can’t imagine ourselves doing, but all of us are capable of the unthinkable, given the right circumstances, mental state, and precipitators.”
A nod. He agreed. The nineties have been a violent decade. Milwaukee had 127 homicides last year, and I’d worked 29 of them, but considering how many cases the NCAVC assists with each year, I guessed that Ralph might’ve already been involved in more homicide investigations than I would be in my entire career.
“So,” he said, “the secret to finding this psycho-if it’s even the same guy in all three cases-is to find out what he thinks will make him happy.”
“If we knew that,” I admitted, “it would be helpful. Yes.”
“Motive.” Corsica looked triumphant.
I was ready to reply when Radar interjected, “But at this point that’s not possible to determine.”
“Once again,” I reiterated, “I think that right now we should focus on what happened rather than spend time speculating on why it did.”
It looked like everyone except Detective Corsica was satisfied, ready to move on.
Ralph aimed the tip of his pen at me, signaling that I was up. “I understand you and Radar spoke with Colleen Hayes this morning. What do we know?”
“The offender is Caucasian, large frame, approximately six feet tall. Brown eyes, unless he was wearing colored contact lenses. He only said four words when I spoke with him last night on Vincent’s portable phone and I didn’t note any distinctive accent. Colleen doesn’t think she could recognize his voice again. I’m not sure I could either. She knew of only one offender, and he took her someplace near or just past the breweries and then to the pier where she was left. The car he used has a trunk. The space he took her to was cold, like an unheated garage or cellar.”
In my mind I was following the possible travel routes a person might drive from the Hayes residence to the valley where the breweries are. “Based on the nature and sophistication of the crime, it’s probable that the offender has a history of violence. He might already be in the system.”
“Prints?” Ellen asked.
Thorne shook his head. “No incriminating ones. Not on the cuffs, not at the house. Nothing.”
Detective Corsica turned to me. “You sent out a call last night that the suspect had gotten away when you actually had him in custody.”
“Based on the information we had at the time, we thought a woman’s life might be in imminent danger.”
“Based on the information you had at the time.” Her tone was condescending and I was getting tired of dealing with Detective Corsica’s attitude.
“It seemed prudent to let officers search the neighborhood for a few minutes if it meant buying some time to protect Colleen Hayes. I made a judgment call.”
“So,” she said, “you initiated a waste of time and resources and-”
“With all due respect, Annise, I don’t consider anything done in the line of protecting innocent life to be a-”
“What you did was-”
Thorne raised a hand, a stop sign to cut us off. “Alright, alright, you two. Easy.”