Law & Disorder

When it comes to murder, there are no effective legal remedies. There is no way to right the wrong and no possibility of restoring the victim to his or her family, friends and lifestyle. Given this impossible situation, many victims’ families and advocates, law enforcement personnel and ordinary members of the public, feel that in cases of intentional and particularly brutal or sadistic murder, the closest the state can come to balancing the scales judicially is to take the life of the individual who took the life of his or her innocent victim.

As a result of my experience in decades of work in law enforcement, I place myself in that camp.

While I fully accept and respect the views of those who oppose capital punishment on moral or practical grounds, there is one argument I will not accept. In fact, I resist it vigorously. That is, that capital punishment is legalized murder—that if the state takes a life, it is just as morally culpable as the defendant who committed murder. This, frankly, is nonsense. Not only is it nonsense, it is morally offensive. It is morally offensive because it trivializes the distinction between the victim and the perpetrator, between the innocent and the guilty. And if we ever lose that distinction, we are done for as an ethical and just society.

Every other aspect of the argument is up for grabs.

People often ask me and other investigators who share my views, with all we know about the varying degrees of competence and sophistication of police work, investigating agencies and criminal justice procedures, how we can be in favor of capital punishment? How can we support this irreversible act, especially in light of a case like Todd Willingham’s or Dr. Gerald Hurst’s suspicion that there are probably many more like it? And that’s only in the realm of arson.

The answer is, we support it for certain types of crimes and certain circumstances. But rather than beginning with a theoretical, academic discussion of the death penalty, let’s bring it down to the personal level. Because life doesn’t get any less theoretical and more personal than murder. Let’s focus on individuals rather than abstractions, on experience rather than supposition, on facts rather than opinions.

I want to relate a case that I first described in Journey Into Darkness. But since that book was published, there is a critical, agonizing and ultimately enlightening new chapter to be written. This is a story that will illuminate many key issues: the strengths and weaknesses of the death penalty; the parameters and limits of a fair trial, as well as a reasonable appeals process; the uses of scientific evidence, especially after the trial is over and the verdict rendered; and the human toll all of this takes on each of the participants.

This is the story of Suzanne Marie Collins and Sedley Alley.

I use the two names in the same sentence, but it is not because there is any similarity or moral equivalence between them. It is because Sedley Alley did something that created a connection and a relationship, a horrible association that resulted in death. As we discuss the criminal justice system and the pros and cons of capital punishment, don’t let that forced connection stray from your thoughts.

Of all the cases I worked, and that Mark Olshaker and I have written about, none has elicited as much passionate reader response as the Suzanne Collins murder. Corn-silk blond when she was little, tawny-maned as she grew older, athletically buff and strikingly beautiful, Suzanne was, in many ways, the epitome of the all-American girl. She was the daughter of John A. Collins, an American Foreign Service officer and attorney universally known as “Jack,” and his wife, Gertrude, known as “Trudy.” Suzanne and her older brother, Stephen, were both adopted, and Jack and Trudy devoted their lives to them.

With her looks and charm, she might easily have been a heart-breaker at Robert E. Lee High School in Springfield, Virginia, where the family settled after stints in Greece and a special State Department assignment in Madison, Wisconsin. But she was so popular and friendly, so interested in everyone else’s life, that everyone loved her and she became the school’s social organizer. By this time Steve was both an academic and wrestling star, and it became well known how protective he was. Any guy wanting to approach Suzanne on more than a casual level had to pass Steve’s muster.

Her charm and popularity also led to some problems in high school. Although she was a good language and science student, between socializing and sports, studying was not her top priority. Despite warnings and encouragement, inspiration and threats from her parents, Suzanne ended her high-school career as something less than optimum college material.

She didn’t want to go to community college and live at home, and she didn’t want what she characterized as some “rinky-dink job,” so she decided to enlist in the United States Marine Corps.

Her decision was a surprise to everyone—her family, her friends and her teachers. When her navy veteran father asked her how she had arrived at this decision, she replied simply that she wanted to challenge herself and the marines were “the best.”

“What could I say to that?” Jack recalled. “So I answered, ‘Well, you’re the best, Suzanne, so that’s fine.’ ”

Suzanne graduated from high school in June 1984 and began basic training the same month at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Parris Island, South Carolina. She threw herself into the grueling boot camp regime, pushing her mind and body as she never had before. When her parents came down for graduation, Jack was amazed by her physical prowess and self-confidence. Trudy was amazed that this girl whose room was always a cyclone-like wreck could now make a bed tight enough to bounce a quarter.

Jack and Trudy both cherished the official portrait photo they received of their smiling, bright-eyed daughter. Her once-long blond hair was cut fashionably and sensibly to chin length. She was proudly wearing her green marine cap, with its black eagle, globe and anchor, and the American flag waved behind her.

Suzanne had also done a lot of thinking during basic training and for the first time in her life had articulated and solidified her goals. She wanted to go to the Naval Academy, hoping a strong military record would offset her lackluster high-school performance. And she wanted to become part of the first class of female marine fighters, banking on the hope that the restriction against women in aerial combat positions eventually would be lifted. As a first step in proving herself, she applied to and was accepted in avionics training—electronics applied to aviation.

Private First Class Suzanne Marie Collins reported to Marine Aviation Training Support Squadron 902, Memphis Naval Air Station, Millington, Tennessee, on October 20, 1984. On and around the base, she was hard to miss—a tall, gorgeous blonde who kept herself in tip-top shape through constant exercise. She had developed an easy, graceful manner that seemed to appeal to everyone, except, perhaps, some of her fellow recruits and military wives who noticed their husbands’ heads snap every time Suzanne passed by.

She found her best friend shortly after Susan Hand arrived in March 1985. Susan, from Lisle, Illinois, was another beautiful blonde, a year older than Suzanne, and at Millington for air traffic control school. She was bunked downstairs from Suzanne in the same barracks building. Both women were five-seven and 118 pounds; they swapped clothes and shared secrets. They were always together during off-duty hours and soon everyone on the base knew them. Both acquired boyfriends from the air traffic control department, and they were the only two women deemed good enough to be invited to play soccer with the guys’ teams. They were also great dancers and often went to clubs on Beale Street in Memphis. Despite her popularity and athleticism, there was an aura of sweetness and innocence about Suzanne that men and women found genuine and endearing.

Her busy off-duty life notwithstanding, Suzanne was turning into a first-rate marine. Around the time Susan Hand arrived, Suzanne had been promoted to lance corporal and appointed to the honor deck, a ceremonial troop made up of “only the most motivated students.” Her parents were thrilled and surprised, because to be recommended for honor deck, a student had to maintain a top academic average, a feat Suzanne had never before been motivated to attempt.

This also represented another accomplishment. Prior to Suzanne’s appointment, all members of the Memphis Naval Air Station Honor Deck had been male. For weeks, she was harassed by many of the men and derided by many of the women, who thought she had achieved this honor because of her looks. But she stuck it out and took all the abuse and hazing thrown her way. Within a few weeks, Suzanne had convinced everyone that she was the real deal. Cracking this barrier gave her confidence that she would one day achieve her goal of getting into Annapolis and making it as a U.S. Marine flier.

There was only one thing that bothered Suzanne and Susan as graduation day approached. Suzanne had been assigned to Cherry Point, North Carolina, Marine Corps Air Station (MCAS), while Susan had been assigned to El Toro MCAS in California. Their plan was to take up their assignments, then figure out a way to get Suzanne assigned to El Toro, too. They envisioned their lives together, including fleet appointments to Annapolis and eventually settling down near each other and raising their kids together. Suzanne’s boyfriend, Greg, was all in favor of this because he was also going to California. He had already set his sights on marrying Suzanne, though Susan says that her friend was still having too much fun to think about settling down quite yet.

Susan’s mother and four-year-old sister came down from Illinois for the graduation. On July 11, 1985, the night before the ceremony, Mrs. Hand invited Suzanne to join them all for dinner at a friend’s house in a Memphis suburb. Shortly before they were to leave, the barracks staff sergeant assigned Suzanne as Duty NCO for the day. It basically meant sitting behind a desk outside the barracks building, checking people in and out, and then once an hour making a circuit around the building and recording her findings in a logbook. Suzanne told them to go without her, saying they would meet at the base park the next morning before the graduation. But Susan was seething, feeling the sergeant was jealous of Suzanne and had it in for her. She had one last chance to punish her for all her attributes and she was going to take advantage of it. Susan didn’t think someone who was graduating the next day should have to be on duty when anyone could have been assigned, particularly someone who didn’t already have plans.

The watch was uneventful. By the time Suzanne finished her duty assignment, she was restless and wanted some exercise. She went to her room and changed from her uniform to a red Marine Corps T-shirt, shorts, white socks and her Nike sneakers. She wrapped a white bandanna around her forehead and a blue sweat belt around her waist. When she came out, she told her friend Janet Cooper, who had watch duty, that she was going for a run and that she’d probably be out for a half hour or so. They talked while Suzanne stretched, and Janet said she seemed in a good and happy mood.

It was understandable. She was nineteen years old, beautiful and in the best physical condition of her life. The regrets of high school seemed far behind her. She had a boyfriend, a best friend, a brother and two parents who worshipped her. She was well on her way to all of her lofty goals. Tomorrow she would graduate from avionics school and begin the next adventure, one she was primed for and anxious to get started on.

That tomorrow never arrived for Lance Corporal Suzanne Marie Collins.