Chapter 3
Determining someone’s guilt or innocence is a tricky proposition.
Sometimes you can find forensic or DNA evidence that can make you nearly certain someone is guilty.
It is science, after all. Except, I guess, in my case, where my DNA was found on the murder weapon, making everyone fairly convinced of my guilt.
For most people, that’s the end of the road.
I guess what I’ve learned in this job is that nothing is what it seems.
“Lucy, do you know why you’ve been arrested?” Amaya asks gently. It’s quite a skill to get a stranger to spill their guts on what is undoubtedly one of the most traumatic days of their life.
Lucy is a tiny blond woman, and despite her glittering rhinestone jumpsuit that unfortunately catches the harsh overhead light, she’s otherwise unremarkable.
“Just so you know, the outfit is me going undercover for a story,” Lucy remarks with a thick Long Island accent.
I like her already.
I’ve heard a lot of outlandish things as a taxi driver, and sometimes it’s hard to discern fact from fiction.
Amaya reminds me to investigate cases and to not just trust my gut, because somehow my gut seems to like almost everyone we meet in this job.
I need to follow the evidence and not assume the best in someone just because they’re wearing a rhinestone jumpsuit to go undercover on a story and seem like they’d be a hoot at a party.
“For a story? Are you a journalist?” I ask.
“Used to be…I, well, it’s a long story. But I’m innocent. I never stalked Diane or anyone else.”
“Who’s Diane?” Amaya asks.
“Diane Larsen.”
I stare at Lucy impassively. I have no clue who she is talking about.
Amaya turns to me, a look on her face.
“Diane Larsen?” Lucy says, as if saying the name a second time will suddenly unearth a hidden memory for us.
“I really don’t know who you’re talking about.” I try to cover the slight annoyance in my voice. It’s my own insecurity from not always getting certain references since I didn’t grow up in the States and wasn’t exposed to American culture until I moved here as a kid.
“She’s a socialite. Her family is big in this city. They have their own foundation. They donate millions of dollars to good causes,” Lucy says slowly, pausing between each sentence as if it will ring a bell.
“She’s also quite the party girl. A Page Six special,” Amaya says with a little smirk.
“She’s also my friend,” Lucy shoots back, clearly protective.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Amaya says, a sheepish look covering her face.
“It’s okay. To people who don’t know her, she seems self-absorbed, arrogant, rich, uncaring—”
“But you know her,” Amaya interrupts. She’s good at keeping people on track. “So what happened?”
I’m imagining a very dramatic falling-out of this friendship. Maybe Diane stole Lucy’s boyfriend and she’s exacting an elaborate plan for revenge…Before I allow myself to daydream more nonsensical possibilities, I realize this isn’t one of my podcasts. This is real life, not Jerry Springer.
“We’re still friends,” Lucy says.
“But you’re charged with stalking her?” Amaya questions.
“I couldn’t understand why. I’d like to see the evidence against me. Who reported me?” Lucy asks in distress.
That’s going to take some time, I think to myself. They didn’t give me any evidence when I was charged with a crime and fighting for my freedom. As usual, the real criminal justice system is quite different from what is portrayed on TV. Defense attorneys are usually always in an information vacuum.
“Well, we don’t have much evidence against you yet.
But we have some bare-bones information in the criminal complaint.
The criminal complaint outlines your crimes as understood by the DA’s office and NYPD at this preliminary stage,” Amaya says as Lucy begins to protest. Amaya clears her throat and then, with a look of pity that I know all too well, she says, “They say that Diane claims not to know you. And that when you were arrested, you had photos from inside her house, which means it’s possible they’ll charge you with something much more serious, like burglary. ”
I cannot jump to conclusions, but a small voice in my head tells me that Lucy is very, very guilty.