?”
“I really don’t know,” Moran said. “I mean, usually DNA is not done locally. It has to be sent to the FBI laboratory. And it takes a long period of time. We have one [case] now where a fellow was doing a series of rapes . . . and, you know, uh, we, uh, as a matter of fact, DNA eliminated one suspect.”
“Right,” Donna said.
“But it took several months.”
Donna wanted to know, concretely, whether there ever had been DNA—semen—found on the back of her shirt and panties, as she had been told, or if it was just one more police “tactic” giving her false hope. She had no idea what to believe anymore.
Moran never gave them an answer. Instead he talked about how frustrating a case it had been for his men. He said one of the most disturbing factors of the case was that John had been away and the “fact that there was no forcible entry.”
John started to suggest a theory, but was interrupted by Moran, who said, “These are some of the things that we are finding very frustrating in our investigation and, uh, you know, quite frankly, uh, it certainly made us look at you a second time [referring to Donna], as you know it makes us look, as you say, that it’s gotta be a personal nature. Somebody that knew quite a bit about you people . . .”
John explained that he hadn’t told many people he was going away, and that he had also asked his brothers to drive by the house to make sure everything looked safe, adding, “I had another friend, uh, one of my best friends from years ago, I had him call and see if everything was all right.”
“Who was that?” Moran wondered.
John gave him the name, saying his friend was at least “260 pounds and, um, Donna would have known if it was him.”
Moran wanted the friend’s personal contact information so they could reach him and investigate whether he had the opportunity to commit the crime.
This request opened up a dialogue that included John mentioning other people the WPD should be talking to: friends and acquaintances of John and Donna’s that they had assumed the WPD had already checked out. Come to find out, they hadn’t.
Then Moran said, “We would also like to speak with your sister Maria about her contact with . . . [Jeff].”
It finally seemed like they were getting somewhere.
Moran said he needed to conclude the conversation because of an important meeting he had at the top of the hour, explaining, “. . . We’re going to pursue what we feel are the most productive lines of inquiry. Uh, as those terminate, then we’ll go to other lines that are, uh, perhaps, less promising.” Then he said someone from the WPD would be in touch soon.
And that was it. Meeting adjourned.
Lieutenant Post escorted Donna and John out of the building. Post had played good cop to Moran’s bad cop. Neither had taken many notes during the conversation, but Post had written a few things down, Donna suspected, to “make it look good.”
As they walked toward the exit, Donna told Post to listen to the tape Lieutenant Moran had made. “This is very important to me,” she said. “What is going to be done?”
“I’m very busy,” Post said. “But since the captain asked me to sit in, I am now involved. I assure you, I will listen to all the tapes this afternoon.”
Leaving the WPD, Donna and John believed Captain Moran was holding back a lot more than he had been willing to give up. But why?
To say the least, Donna left the WPD confused and shaken once again. What was going to happen next?
“I was right back to the night I was raped,” Donna said.
CHAPTER NINE
Jane Doe
Just five years before Donna’s attack, one of the most sensational false rape allegation cases in history began as fifteen-year-old Tawana Brawley went missing one day from her Wappinger, New York, home. Brawley was found behind an apartment complex four days later. She was covered in dog excrement and curled up in the fetal position inside a black plastic garbage bag. Her hair had
“I really don’t know,” Moran said. “I mean, usually DNA is not done locally. It has to be sent to the FBI laboratory. And it takes a long period of time. We have one [case] now where a fellow was doing a series of rapes . . . and, you know, uh, we, uh, as a matter of fact, DNA eliminated one suspect.”
“Right,” Donna said.
“But it took several months.”
Donna wanted to know, concretely, whether there ever had been DNA—semen—found on the back of her shirt and panties, as she had been told, or if it was just one more police “tactic” giving her false hope. She had no idea what to believe anymore.
Moran never gave them an answer. Instead he talked about how frustrating a case it had been for his men. He said one of the most disturbing factors of the case was that John had been away and the “fact that there was no forcible entry.”
John started to suggest a theory, but was interrupted by Moran, who said, “These are some of the things that we are finding very frustrating in our investigation and, uh, you know, quite frankly, uh, it certainly made us look at you a second time [referring to Donna], as you know it makes us look, as you say, that it’s gotta be a personal nature. Somebody that knew quite a bit about you people . . .”
John explained that he hadn’t told many people he was going away, and that he had also asked his brothers to drive by the house to make sure everything looked safe, adding, “I had another friend, uh, one of my best friends from years ago, I had him call and see if everything was all right.”
“Who was that?” Moran wondered.
John gave him the name, saying his friend was at least “260 pounds and, um, Donna would have known if it was him.”
Moran wanted the friend’s personal contact information so they could reach him and investigate whether he had the opportunity to commit the crime.
This request opened up a dialogue that included John mentioning other people the WPD should be talking to: friends and acquaintances of John and Donna’s that they had assumed the WPD had already checked out. Come to find out, they hadn’t.
Then Moran said, “We would also like to speak with your sister Maria about her contact with . . . [Jeff].”
It finally seemed like they were getting somewhere.
Moran said he needed to conclude the conversation because of an important meeting he had at the top of the hour, explaining, “. . . We’re going to pursue what we feel are the most productive lines of inquiry. Uh, as those terminate, then we’ll go to other lines that are, uh, perhaps, less promising.” Then he said someone from the WPD would be in touch soon.
And that was it. Meeting adjourned.
Lieutenant Post escorted Donna and John out of the building. Post had played good cop to Moran’s bad cop. Neither had taken many notes during the conversation, but Post had written a few things down, Donna suspected, to “make it look good.”
As they walked toward the exit, Donna told Post to listen to the tape Lieutenant Moran had made. “This is very important to me,” she said. “What is going to be done?”
“I’m very busy,” Post said. “But since the captain asked me to sit in, I am now involved. I assure you, I will listen to all the tapes this afternoon.”
Leaving the WPD, Donna and John believed Captain Moran was holding back a lot more than he had been willing to give up. But why?
To say the least, Donna left the WPD confused and shaken once again. What was going to happen next?
“I was right back to the night I was raped,” Donna said.
CHAPTER NINE
Jane Doe
Just five years before Donna’s attack, one of the most sensational false rape allegation cases in history began as fifteen-year-old Tawana Brawley went missing one day from her Wappinger, New York, home. Brawley was found behind an apartment complex four days later. She was covered in dog excrement and curled up in the fetal position inside a black plastic garbage bag. Her hair had
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