chapter twenty-eight

if it bleeds...

The next day, life took another bizarre turn.

All the stations had reporters in attendance yesterday at the federal grand jury when the Assistant US Attorney prepped the jurors that the law had been violated. The AUSA read the counts of the indictment and witnesses, like me, described the facts. There was no cross-examination because there was no established defendant or defense. The jurors asked questions when they needed clarification. After all the testimony was given, the jurors voted on the spot for an indictment and an arrest warrant was issued and signed by the judge.

Debbie Macklin called my cell sixteen times as Tony and I finished storing Lonnie’s artwork in my lower level. While we enjoyed a beer, she left three more messages, each more desperate than the last. I also had multiple landline messages from Channels Two, Five, and Eleven.

After Tony went home to Cindy, I had mercy and called Deb. She asked the obvious questions and I said, “Okay, but I won’t be there at six, seven, or even eight. Ten o’clock. I’m sleeping in.”

“Want some company?”

“Down, girl. I’m sleeping in alone.”

At half past ten, she tapped her foot and anxiously looked at her watch while I sat for the makeup artist.

“Today is a sit-down interview,” she said in the doorway before she turned and walked to the set where hair and makeup made last-second adjustments.

“I’m not talking about Maynard,” I called out.

The young girl patting my face had perfect skin and metal posts in her eyebrows. She looked in Deb’s direction and back at me. “Good luck with that.” Her tone said it all—like I’m gonna need it.

When I walked to the set, Deb was fiddling with items on the table between our chairs and reviewed her notes while she settled. The crew and director waited for me to take the chair next to her. When I did, she straightened her posture, pasted on her television smile, and faced the lens just as the red light winked on.

“It is my great pleasure to welcome back Dr. Mitchell Adams, a Clayton-based PhD social worker in private practice, to the team at Channel Four. Dr. Adams has served the community as a professional consultant on numerous occasions covering a broad spectrum of special interest topics. Tonight, we ask for his insights about the David and Goliath relationship between a disabled local counterfeiter and chief prosecutor John Maynard, who was indicted by a federal grand jury yesterday on the same charge of counterfeiting.

“In a dramatic, man-bites-dog story, an arrest warrant was issued and signed by Judge Reinholt for John Maynard, Jr. The Chief Prosecutor had been waging a successful war on crime in the city and weeks ago had announced his plan to run for the senate. He instantly became the frontrunner after defining himself as a tough, law-and-order candidate with a spotless record and perfect conviction rate. In the light of stunning new events, Mr. Maynard now finds himself in a legal hot seat of epic proportions. What can you tell our viewers about the unlikely connection between these two vastly different men, Dr. Adams?”

I saw the camera lens swing my way from the corner of my eye. “I want to preface everything I’m about to say with a caveat: John Maynard is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. He has not had his trial by jury, nor a chance to answer the charges levied against him. Your question forces me to speculate.”

She leaned forward in anticipation and said, “By all means, our viewers are eager to hear your opinions about these two men.”

“The jurors voted by a majority for a True Bill on the indictment. The Assistant US Attorney asked for the indictment to be sealed by the judge to prevent the facts from being released before trial.”

I watched her mood sink. “Why was this done?”

“Because the information is sensitive; other suspects remain under investigation and witnesses could be in danger if their names are released.”

Like yours truly. As a witness, my name was recorded as Mitchell A. It didn’t take long for you and a host of others to ring my phone off the hook. Did it?

“What insights can you share with the viewers about John Maynard?”

“Plenty, but this is not the time or forum. Too much has happened to risk a tainted jury pool that could result in a change of venue. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to be patient and wait for Judge Reinholt to lift the indictment seal, once all the suspects have been identified, indicted, and arrested.”

Mark DeFrane had completed his investigation and turned it over to the AUSA for Judicial Action, but before he left he predicted the media would swoop down on me like a flock of gulls attacking Tippi Hedron once they knew I was on the witness list.

She passed a note that read: Help! Toss me a bone. Something, anything!

“So, if Mr. Maynard is proven guilty of counterfeiting, why do you think he chose the path he took?” She almost grimaced.

“Let me tell you the true story of another chief prosecutor. Right here in St. Louis, in the 1980s. He was a ruthless, 49-year old, law-and-order prosecutor who launched a city-wide crackdown on prostitution and pornography, closing down porn and video stores. In June 1991, he endorsed jail time for all prostitutes, pimps, and customers who were second-time offenders. For fifteen years he held office until he was arrested, and admitted to, soliciting sex from an undercover policewoman. It was proven he’d spent at least twelve thousand dollars of city taxpayer money over the years on prostitutes. Investigators were likely to have connected him to another hundred thousand dollars of misappropriated city money had he not burned those records first. He’d become such a bold and regular john he sometimes used his real name with pimps and madams; other times he used the alias Larry Johnson.”

She looked puzzled and said, “So, this prosecutor in 1991—”

“Your older viewers will remember his name.”

I handed her note back, adding the words: “Interview me about him.”

“He was a little before my time,” she said, smiling for the camera and shooting me a look.

“Mine, too. That’s what Post-Dispatch archives are for.”

“If this man was such a tough law-and-order prosecutor who cracked down on prostitutes, why would he be a frequent john and steal from the city to fund his sexual … appetite?”

“The psychological term for this is reaction formation. It’s a primitive defense mechanism people resort to when faced with anxiety-causing or unacceptable emotions and impulses. Someone using this primitive defense mechanism is having intense psychic conflict. They’re struggling against strong instinctive reactions and trying to control these unacceptable emotions or impulses by exaggerating the exact opposite feeling. However, the original rejected impulses simply do not vanish. They linger, in the unconscious, in their original infantile form. That’s why, when he was caught with a prostitute in a police sting in an airport hotel, he was dumbstruck that the media made a connection between his actions and his tough law-and-order stance against prostitution. I’ve treated a number of clients who struggle with similar internal turmoil.”

She tugged at the hem of her skirt and settled into her chair as if we were in for a long discussion. “So if someone protests too much about something, they may be actually in favor of what they’re protesting against?’

I nodded. “It's possible. The strong antisocial impulses may drive a person to become active in a crusade against vice, crime, or prostitution. The inhibited desire constantly attempts to resurface and sometimes the impulses win out, like when an alcoholic or smoker relapses.”

She seemed to be playing along now and said, “What happened to this man?”

“He was forced to resign amid scandal. He relocated to another state.”

“Can you share other examples of reaction formation with us, Dr. Adams?”

“Certainly, reaction formation is one of the most difficult defenses for lay people to understand, in part because of its effectiveness and flexibility as a disguise. There’s the well-known Stockholm Syndrome in which hostages or kidnap victims ‘fall in love’ with the kidnappers who hold complete power over them, the most famous example being the heiress Patty Hearst. More recently, several well-known preachers and politicians pontificating excessively emotional and moral hard-line stances against homosexuality were later outed as closet gays. The inner conflict eventually comes out.

She nodded, eyed the camera, and said, “Fascinating examples, Dr. Adams. You said earlier that reaction formation is a primitive defense mechanism. Why do you call it primitive?”

“Primitive defense mechanisms are usually effective only in the short-term and are typically learned as young children.”

“What's another example of a reaction formation that a child would employ?”

Where’s she going with this? “I imagine that when you were in grade school, at that age when kids start to become attracted to the opposite sex, there was probably a boy who went out of his way to show everyone in class, especially his closest friends, that he didn’t like you at all. Am I right?

She smiled and briefly blushed for the camera. “One or two leap to mind.”

“And how did those boys really feel about you?”

“Just the opposite,” Debbie said and modestly looked down briefly at her lap for the camera before she continued. “If reaction formation is effective and flexible, why doesn’t it work for long?”

“The inner conflict ultimately breaches the surface, as in the case of the former prosecutor. Most defense mechanisms are unconscious; we don’t realize we’re using them in the moment. Therapy can help a person identify the defense mechanisms they’re using, understand why they don’t work, and learn how to use healthier ones in the future.”

“I see. Can you give us examples of other primitive defense mechanisms?”

Why the psych 101? I know this will be edited, but what's her angle?

“Ones we’ve all heard before are denial, acting out, and regression. Denial is used to avoid dealing with painful feelings or problems, such as alcohol and drug abuse. A classic example of acting out is a temper tantrum, when one is unable to express feelings verbally and resorts to physical expressions. In regression, one reverts to an earlier stage of development when faced with unacceptable thoughts or impulses, such as when an adolescent overwhelmed with fear becomes clingy and wets the bed.”

She gave me a brief wink with the eye not in sight of the camera. She leaned forward and continued, “So, if the charges filed against John Maynard are proved true, he tried to hide his antisocial impulses the best way he knew how, by going overboard to the other extreme and leading a crusade against prostitution and crime, but eventually his antisocial impulses won the internal battle and revealed his true nature.”

“I wasn’t talking about Mr. Maynard. I cannot comment on his pending trial other than to say he is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. You’re drawing your own conclusions about Mr. Maynard.”

She shifted her nominal weight in the chair again and narrowed her eyes. “What can you tell our viewers about your harrowing ordeal of the last few days?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. I had some car problems.”

“My sources tell Channel Four you were chased at gunpoint by one of Maynard’s security men. That he shot you because you held incriminating evidence against the chief prosecutor. I see your hand is bandaged.”

I held her gaze. “Then interview your sources instead of me.”

“Other sources say an All-Points Bulletin went out for your immediate arrest because you were suspected of posing a direct threat to Mr. Maynard. That your home and business were searched and placed under twenty-four hour surveillance.”

I simply stared at her, thinking the dead silence would end the filming, worse than merely a no comment.

“An unnamed source also said Mr. Maynard’s men allegedly tried to run you off the road as you sought sanctuary at the local Secret Service office. That the Department of Justice found discrepancies in Mr. Maynard’s diverse financial holdings, including illegally established dummy corporations when he attempted to legitimize the stolen counterfeit money.”

I stared at her in silence until the red camera light went out.

She noticed it and said, “No, keep rolling!”

She turned back to me. “John Maynard is already a wealthy man. Why would he risk his freedom, his family, and a possible run at the White House for six million dollars?”

“I was talking about the former prosecutor. If you don’t like my answer, I suggest you interview Mr. Maynard. Or go interview yourself.”

Her attention switched to her Bluetooth. Then she turned to the camera.

“We have breaking news. There are numerous reports now coming in from citizens disputing the initial accounts of the responding officers at the scene of Benny Blade’s tragic death at the zoo. No witnesses have stepped forward to corroborate that Mr. Blades fired a gun or even brandished one in that tense standoff. No one saw a bomb, but one witness watching from a hill with binoculars saw a leather briefcase filled with money fly open at Big Cat Country. The Medical Examiner’s initial report is now available. It indicates Mr. Blades was center shot five times in the chest and died instantly before falling into the tiger pit.”

I hope that’s true, for Benny’s sake.

She turned back to me and whispered, “You promised me an exclusive.”

I thought about it.

She looked at me and said softly, “Please.”

“Roll the damn camera,” I said. “We now arrive at the most extraordinary and unexpected part of the Lonnie Washington story—his motivation. From the beginning, the answer seemed obvious to everyone, me included—plain and simple greed, getting something for nothing—but we were wrong. Lonnie Washington did greatly benefit from his counterfeit money, but not as you might think. He derived immense satisfaction and joy from giving away every dollar he created to others in need.

“He helped good people who found themselves in bad situations through no fault of their own. He helped kids, caregivers, the elderly, the poor, and people of all races. Lonnie Washington gave away all his millions.”

She sat with her mouth open, until a staffer caught her attention by making a circular motion with his hand that they were still filming. She cleared her throat. “This is an incredible story, Dr. Adams. Has your life returned to normal yet?”

“This is not about me. It’s about Lonnie Washington, Earl Mooney, Benny Blades, and Tyrone Sparks.”

“Sources indicate your car was vandalized and rocks were thrown through your home windows. You received hate mail and death threats from Maynard’s political supporters, prompting the Secret Service to provide twenty-four hour protection. His supporters are attacking you in the media. They claim you’ve initiated your own personal witch hunt and fabricated evidence to damage the popular prosecutor’s election bid. His PR people are labeling you a hater and calling for jail time once Mr. Maynard is vindicated. What is your response, Dr. Adams?”

I smiled and said, “I will not debase the story of Lonnie Washington’s life by lowering it to the political arena. Two nonviolent men are dead for a crime that doesn’t carry the death penalty.”

She turned to me. “Thank you for your insights, Dr. Adams. I’m sure there will be many legal twists and turns to this case in the coming months.”

Then she quickly swung back to the camera lens and said, “Channel Four viewers will surely remember Dr. Adams from a year ago when he narrowly survived a harrowing standoff with a deranged client who had brutally murdered his girlfriend. Armed only with his quick wits and professional training, Dr. Adams was able to talk the psychopath down and simultaneously break the infamous Gateway University scandal.” She turned to me. “Are there any similarities between the two cases, Dr. Adams?”

We’d come full circle. Kris was right—if it bleeds, it leads. I should have expected the sucker punch at the end.

I removed the tiny black microphone the young makeup artist had pinned to my lapel earlier and walked from the station without another word. From behind I heard Debbie whisper, “Thank you,” and, “I’m sorry,” in the same breath. I didn’t stop or look back.