far likelier to agree to a polygraph. They have nothing to hide and they’re desperate to prove it. Guilty suspects rarely consent to the exams, and for obvious reasons.
Donté was led to another room and introduced to a Detective Ferguson, who’d been at home asleep an hour earlier when Detective Needham called. Ferguson was the department’s polygraph expert, and he insisted that Kerber, Morrissey, and Needham leave the room. Ferguson was extremely polite, soft-spoken, even apologetic for putting Donté through the process. He explained everything, ran through the paperwork, rigged up the machine, and began asking Donté about his involvement in the Nicole Yarber matter. This went on for about an hour.
When Ferguson finished, he explained that it would be a few minutes before he could digest the results. Donté was taken back to “The Choir Room.”
The results clearly showed that Donté was telling the truth. However, the law, as decided by the U.S. Supreme Court, permits the police to engage in a wide range of deceptive practices during interrogations. They can lie at will.
When Kerber returned to “The Choir Room,” he was holding the graph paper from the test. He threw it at Donté, hitting him in the face, and called him a “lyin’ son of a bitch!” Now they had proof that he was lying! They had clear evidence that he snatched his ex-lover, raped her, killed her in a fit of rage, and threw her off a bridge. Kerber picked up the graph paper, shook it in Donté’s face, and promised him that when the jury saw the results of the test, they would find him guilty and give him death. You’re looking at the needle, Kerber said over and over.
Another lie. Polygraphs are so famously unreliable that their results are never admitted in court.
Donté was stunned. He felt faint. He was bewildered and struggled to find words. Kerber relaxed and took his seat across the table. He said that in many cases involving horrible crimes, especially those committed by good, decent folks—noncriminals—the killer subconsciously erases the act from his memory. He just “blocks it out.” This is quite common, and he, Detective Kerber, because of his extensive training and vast experience, had seen this many times. He suspectedthat Donté was quite fond of Nicole, maybe even in love, and did not plan to harm her. Things got out of control. She was dead before he realized it. Then he was in shock at what he’d done, and the guilt was crushing. So he tried to block it out.
Donté continued to deny everything. He was exhausted and laid his head on the table. Kerber slapped the table violently, startling his suspect. He again accused Donté of the crime, said they had the witnesses and the proof, and that he would be dead within five years. Texas prosecutors know how to streamline the system so that the executions are not delayed.
Kerber asked Donté to just imagine his mother, sitting in the witness room, waving at him for the last time, crying her eyes out, as they strapped him down and adjusted the chemicals. You’re a dead man, he said more than once. But there was an option. If Donté would come clean, tell them what happened, make a full confession, then he, Kerber, would guarantee that the state would not seek the death penalty. Donté would get life with no parole, which was no piece of cake, but at least he could write letters to his mom and see her twice a month.
Such threats of death and promises of leniency are unconstitutional, and the police know it. Both Kerber and Morrissey denied using these tactics. Not surprisingly, Morrissey’s notes make no reference to threats or promises. Nor do they accurately record the time and sequence of events. Donté did not have access to a pen and paper and, after five hours of interrogation, lost track of time.
Around midnight, Detective Needham opened the door and announced, “Pickett’s talking.” Kerber smiled at Morrissey, then left in another dramatic exit.
Pickett
Donté was led to another room and introduced to a Detective Ferguson, who’d been at home asleep an hour earlier when Detective Needham called. Ferguson was the department’s polygraph expert, and he insisted that Kerber, Morrissey, and Needham leave the room. Ferguson was extremely polite, soft-spoken, even apologetic for putting Donté through the process. He explained everything, ran through the paperwork, rigged up the machine, and began asking Donté about his involvement in the Nicole Yarber matter. This went on for about an hour.
When Ferguson finished, he explained that it would be a few minutes before he could digest the results. Donté was taken back to “The Choir Room.”
The results clearly showed that Donté was telling the truth. However, the law, as decided by the U.S. Supreme Court, permits the police to engage in a wide range of deceptive practices during interrogations. They can lie at will.
When Kerber returned to “The Choir Room,” he was holding the graph paper from the test. He threw it at Donté, hitting him in the face, and called him a “lyin’ son of a bitch!” Now they had proof that he was lying! They had clear evidence that he snatched his ex-lover, raped her, killed her in a fit of rage, and threw her off a bridge. Kerber picked up the graph paper, shook it in Donté’s face, and promised him that when the jury saw the results of the test, they would find him guilty and give him death. You’re looking at the needle, Kerber said over and over.
Another lie. Polygraphs are so famously unreliable that their results are never admitted in court.
Donté was stunned. He felt faint. He was bewildered and struggled to find words. Kerber relaxed and took his seat across the table. He said that in many cases involving horrible crimes, especially those committed by good, decent folks—noncriminals—the killer subconsciously erases the act from his memory. He just “blocks it out.” This is quite common, and he, Detective Kerber, because of his extensive training and vast experience, had seen this many times. He suspectedthat Donté was quite fond of Nicole, maybe even in love, and did not plan to harm her. Things got out of control. She was dead before he realized it. Then he was in shock at what he’d done, and the guilt was crushing. So he tried to block it out.
Donté continued to deny everything. He was exhausted and laid his head on the table. Kerber slapped the table violently, startling his suspect. He again accused Donté of the crime, said they had the witnesses and the proof, and that he would be dead within five years. Texas prosecutors know how to streamline the system so that the executions are not delayed.
Kerber asked Donté to just imagine his mother, sitting in the witness room, waving at him for the last time, crying her eyes out, as they strapped him down and adjusted the chemicals. You’re a dead man, he said more than once. But there was an option. If Donté would come clean, tell them what happened, make a full confession, then he, Kerber, would guarantee that the state would not seek the death penalty. Donté would get life with no parole, which was no piece of cake, but at least he could write letters to his mom and see her twice a month.
Such threats of death and promises of leniency are unconstitutional, and the police know it. Both Kerber and Morrissey denied using these tactics. Not surprisingly, Morrissey’s notes make no reference to threats or promises. Nor do they accurately record the time and sequence of events. Donté did not have access to a pen and paper and, after five hours of interrogation, lost track of time.
Around midnight, Detective Needham opened the door and announced, “Pickett’s talking.” Kerber smiled at Morrissey, then left in another dramatic exit.
Pickett
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