Chapter 11

ON Tuesday, June 29, the day after his arrest, Joel Rifkin was arraigned in First District Court in Hempstead. About half an hour before the proceedings began, he met his attorney for the first time.

Rifkin was seated, handcuffed, in the detention area, wearing the white jumpsuit given to him by police the night before. Court officers led Robert Sale into the small room.

“How are you?” the attorney asked.

Rifkin got right to the point. “I need my glasses,” he said, exasperated. “They’ve been taken. Can you help me get them back?”

The attorney said he would try. He told Rifkin that he would broach the issue during arraignment.

Rifkin looked relieved. “I can’t function without them,” he added. “I’m getting a migraine headache.”

Sale began to explain what Rifkin could expect in the near future. He told his client that, for now, he was being arraigned on second-degree murder charges in connection with the body found in the back of his pickup. An indictment in the next few weeks was likely.

Sale informed Rifkin that he did not plan to ask for bail. It was extremely unlikely that such a request would be granted. If it were, bail would be set so high it would be impossible for the Rifkin family to meet it.

Rifkin didn’t respond. He knew his mother didn’t have much money. He also knew his attorney was right; the chances of an affordable bail were nil.

Sale said he’d already talked to Jeanne Rifkin earlier that morning. She and Jan would be in the courtroom. It was important, Sale told his client, that the Rifkin family appear supportive.

After the arraignment, Rifkin would be taken to the Nassau County Correctional Facility in East Meadow. Sale would ask that he be placed in protective custody, away from other inmates. Sale told Rifkin that the judge and prosecutor would have no objection. Protective custody was standard in high-profile cases. And cases didn’t get much more high-profile than this.

“Are you being treated alright?” Sale asked.

Rifkin said he was. He added, though, that he was upset about the media spotlight on his family. When he’d phoned his mother last night from police headquarters she said reporters had been camped on the sidewalk all evening. Her phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Some of the tabloid television shows had even offered money for Jeanne and Jan Rifkin’s exclusive story.

Sale had already heard the complaints from Jeanne Rifkin. He stressed that it was important to remain silent and not to talk to the media. A criminal case, he explained, must be tried in the courts. Not in the newspapers.

*   *   *

It was 9:30 A.M. The bailiff called the court to order. Judge John Kingston was presiding.

Jeanne and Jan Rifkin sat with Sale’s partner Mark Groothuis in the third row. Jan wore a simple black top and skirt and red suede pumps; her mother had on purple pants and a white shirt embroidered with a butterfly. In her hands, Jeanne Rifkin clutched a red spiral notebook.

As Joel Rifkin entered the courtroom he looked around quickly. Without his glasses, everything was blurred. He thought he saw his mother and sister, but he couldn’t be sure.

His wasn’t the only arraignment that morning. Seven other prisoners were led in, two of whom were directed to sit next to him. Rifkin raised his legs and swiveled to the side as they scooted past. The man seated next to him gave him a sidelong look and moved an inch away. Joel Rifkin stared at the floor.

The clerk of the court spoke first.

THE CLERK: People versus Joel Rifkin.

MR. SALE: Good morning, Your Honor.

Your Honor, I would waive a reading of the information and, in view of the media attention to this matter, I am not going to ask the Court to set bail at this time. We would like to reserve our rights, at an appropriate time, to seek fair and reasonable bail.

I would ask this matter be postponed until July 6 for a conference in Part IX.

I have received a copy of the charge, singular charge, in this case together with the appropriate notices from the assistant district attorney.

I have a further application, Your Honor. I would ask my client be placed in protective custody at the Nassau County Correctional Facility and, also, that his glasses have been taken from him, as is required. However, he now has a migraine headache and needs his glasses to function. I would ask the authorities, if possible, after checking them out as required, if they could return them to him.

THE COURT: First of all, the request for protective custody is granted.

MR. SALE: Thank you, Judge.

THE COURT: The glasses are to be returned to the defendant and the application for a conference on July 6 in Part IX is granted.

I would like the record to note that defense counsel and the district attorney’s office had a conference with the Court this morning prior to my taking the bench and defense counsel objected to the use of any television cameras, still photos, or audio in this arraignment.

Pursuant to the rules of this Court, unless there is unanimous consent, there cannot be any television, audio, or still photos. Therefore, none will be permitted in this court.

At that point Mark Groothuis motioned to Jeanne and Jan Rifkin. They stepped out into the aisle and walked to the front.

“Your Honor, I would also like to indicate that my client’s mother and sister are present in court today as a sign of their support for Joel,” Sale said.

And then it was over. Jeanne and Jan Rifkin waited until the press had filed out of the courtroom. They spoke quietly to Mark Groothuis. At one point, Jeanne Rifkin glanced at a courtroom artist’s depiction of Joel.

Then she turned away.

A few minutes later, her son was led into a police van and taken to jail. As the van headed down Carman Avenue, it passed East Meadow High School. It had been sixteen years since Joel Rifkin graduated. The outcast had finally made his mark.

*   *   *

Back at the courthouse, reporters practically chased Rifkin’s mother and sister as they hurried into a waiting white Jaguar. Robert Sale was left to face the media. He was quickly encircled. Reporters pressed so close the attorney could hardly move. Ignoring their questions, he held up his hand. “My office is two blocks away,” he said. “If you want to come over, I’ll be there by noon.”

The crowd quickly dispersed. About two hours later some fifty reporters, photographers, and film crews assembled in the parking lot of Sale, Groothuis and Hirsch on Hilton Avenue. The journalists waited impatiently. They had questions. Lots of questions.

Inside his office, Sale was a bit uneasy. He’d had high-profile cases in the past, but nothing of this scope. When he stepped outside and began to speak, his voice quavered.

The reporters didn’t care. They immediately hammered away.

“Mr. Sale, the assistant district attorney says your client is a serial killer,” boomed Ralph Penza from New York’s WNBC-TV.

Sale tried to be flip. “What do I know about serial killers?” he said. “It probably means he eats cornflakes for breakfast.”

Reporters exchanged glances. The remark sounded inappropriate and disingenuous.

Sale tried again.

“Give the man his due,” he said, his voice becoming more firm. “He’s innocent until proven guilty. My client has been convicted in the newspapers already. It’s almost impossible for him to get a fair trial because of the widespread publicity. He’d need a jury of twelve snails.”

“Why didn’t you ask for bail?” a reporter called out.

“It would be an exercise in futility,” Sale replied. “The bail would be so high it would be tantamount to no bail. If John Wilkes Booth was on trial I don’t think his lawyer would try to bail him out. We’d waste everyone’s time at the bail hearing.”

Sale then hinted at an insanity defense. He told the press that he had met with his client earlier that day. Joel, he said, had acted emotionally disturbed at times. “He gave some appropriate responses, and some inappropriate responses,” he said.

When pressed further, Sale backed down. He had no intention of discussing a possible defense.

“We’re not going to try this case in the media,” Sale said sharply. “The case will have to proceed in court.”

And the press conference was over.

*   *   *

The next morning, at 9:00 A.M., Sale drove to Nassau County Correctional Facility and met with his client. They talked for almost two hours. When attorney-client visiting hours were over, Sale offered Rifkin his home telephone number. “If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to call collect anytime,” he said. “You’re no different from any other client.”

Later that day, Sale met individually with reporters. He answered questions about the case, dodging specifics. He also complained about their pursuit of Jeanne and Jan Rifkin.

“We know everyone has a job to do, but there reaches a point when we’re walking to the courtroom and a seventy-one-year-old woman should not be physically shoved, a microphone physically put on her face, and be shouted at,” he said. “These people are not targets of any criminal proceedings. They just happen to be, by quirk of birth, related to a person who is a defendant in a case. They should not be treated so unprofessionally.”

That said, he went on to lambaste the state troopers for their interrogation of his client.

“I’m shocked they didn’t see fit to videotape his statement,” he said. “It’s standard procedure in any high-visibility case. On video we can actually hear the words and see the demeanor and maybe the mental state of the person. I’m shocked and I’m surprised that it wasn’t done. It leaves unanswered questions. Why wasn’t it done? Why weren’t normal procedures followed?”

Sale made it clear that he fully intended to raise this issue in future court hearings. It might turn out, he added, that none of Joel Rifkin’s conversation with police would be admissible in court. His client’s constitutional rights, after all, must be protected.

“By using the argument that they found the bodies where Joel Rifkin said, therefore he must have done it—that’s begging the question,” Sale said. “The question is whether they did the right thing or not. We don’t have to explain why they found the bodies. They have to prove that there is a connection and that my client is responsible for them being there.”

Over at state trooper headquarters, the cops were talking too. Captain Walter Heesch called an afternoon press conference to present an update on the case. But within minutes he was busy fielding questions about the lack of a videotaped confession. Heesch skillfully dismissed the implied criticism.

“Based on the timing and the available things at the time, we just didn’t do it,” he said.

“Isn’t that going to hurt your case?” he was asked.

Heesch hesitated only a moment.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Next question?”

The captain was clearly wary of the press. He gave them laconic answers, often vague. His refusal to answer specific queries frustrated reporters, but Heesch didn’t care. It was more important, he knew, to stay focused on the investigation. Disclosing too much information could destroy a case. He’d seen it happen before.

So Heesch tried not to stray from his prepared remarks. He told reporters that the state police superintendent had temporarily transferred an additional fifteen detectives to help with the investigation, bringing the total number to fifty. He added that Lieutenant Ed Grant, an expert in serial killers, had been asked to work on the Rifkin case. Grant had been instrumental in developing a profile of Arthur Shawcross, the Rochester serial killer.

Cops were using two computer systems to help match victims: HALT, New York’s Homicide Assessment Lead Tracking service, and Vi-CAP, the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program.

Later that day more than twenty-five investigators from a variety of law enforcement agencies were meeting to pool data. “As you probably realize, there are a number of unsolved homicides,” he said. “We want to see if any of them are connected with Joel Rifkin.”

When pressed, Heesch answered a few questions about Rifkin’s conversation with Capers and Louder.

Rifkin, he said, was more specific on some of the murders than others. The investigators did not believe he’d held any of his victims prisoner.

But they definitely believed that Rifkin fit the profile of a serial killer—someone who kills four or more people with a cooling-off period in between.

Heesch reminded the press that the investigation was still in the early stages. Yesterday they had linked eight deaths to Rifkin. Today, they had linked five more. Clearly there was a long way to go.

“It’s a voluminous investigation,” Heesch said. “There are a lot of things to cover. We’ve done many homicides before where we have one victim. Now we have numerous. It’s complicated because of the different jurisdictions involved. But it’s clear what we have to do.”

As reporters began to leave, one asked a final question.

“Captain, do you think Joel Rifkin wanted to get caught?”

Heesch didn’t answer for a moment. Generally, he didn’t like to speculate on a criminal’s behavior.

But then he just shrugged.

“He’s driving down the street with no plates on a vehicle. He’s got a dead body in the car that’s decomposed. Now, that’s not meticulous,” he said.