May 1, 1988—US District Courthouse
Karen Lafayette
Alan Stedsan: Good morning, Ms. Lafayette. Thank you for coming.
Karen Lafayette: Happy to be here if it will help.
AS: All right, let’s get started, then. You lived at the Coram House Orphanage from 1965 to 1970. Can you tell me a little bit about life there?
KL: [Laugh] Every single person who worked there should be in prison. Do you know they called themselves the Sisters of Mercy? Can you believe that? Forget prison, Sister Cecile—every last one of them—should be in hell.
AS: I understand your anger, Ms. Lafayette. But the more details we have—
KL: I know. All right.
AS: Could you tell me more about Sister Cecile? What were her responsibilities at Coram House?
KL: You mean besides torture?
AS: I—
KL: I know—details. She was in charge of the girls’ dormitory. Making sure we said our prayers, made our beds. That kind of shit. Oh, and walks, swim lessons. She was a big believer in the power of the outdoors, Sister Cecile.
AS: How would you characterize her general treatment of the children?
KL: [Laugh] She’s a monster. Unless you were her pet. She always had a pet.
AS: Maybe you could be a little more specific.
KL: Okay, you want details? How about the time Sister Cecile pushed a girl out the window.
AS: Out the window?
KL: She fell from the second story. I saw—she sort of bounced when she hit the ground.
AS: And this child—did she survive the fall?
KL: It was pavement. I’d think not.
AS: Do you know her name—the child?
KL: Amanda, maybe? Melissa? I think she was Seven.
AS: Seven years old?
KL: No. Seven. You know—her number. They called us by our numbers most of the time. So some girls, I never knew their real name.
AS: And why did—you said Sister Cecile—why did she push this girl out the window?
KL: I don’t remember that either. We were cleaning them, I think. Me and Sarah and Seven.
AS: The windows?
KL: Yes, the windows. We were cleaning them and, I don’t know, maybe she wasn’t doing a good-enough job. Maybe that old bitch was just bored that day. Who knows. I heard there was a little girl who burned up. Sister Cecile told her to fetch a ball from the fire and her snowsuit went up in flames. And then there was the boy who drowned. Oh, and there’s Father Foster, of course. But you know all about that. Let me tell you, Father Foster was the only good thing about being a girl in that place.