like he was just shocked that he would be accused of something like that. Then his voice hardened. “Well, I got nothing to say to you, so let’s just get on with it.”
They pushed Allen into their car and drove back to the jail and booked him. The only thing that had been impressive about their contact was his lack of reaction. As they walked back to the detective division, Blade muttered, “Told Tabler he wouldn’t talk. Now we go talk to Tabler and then the captain. We need to talk to Carrasco.”
Captain Bud Lauter asked, “Why can’t just one of you go? Just get the interview and then we decide.”
Blade didn’t hesitate. “Look, Captain—Bud—it all fits. The Kitts girl disappeared at the right time. She was with Allen’s son, Roger. It’s just too close to be a coincidence. If something happens to one of us or our credibility is questioned, then the other one is there to back up the report. We both need to go.”
Captain Lauter nodded. It was part of his job to ask the question. He already knew the answer. “I’ll talk to the sheriff. We’ll get you approval, but you better come back with this asshole’s head on a platter. We don’t have the budget for you two to go on some vacation. Get it done.”
They left joking about how the captain had made it sound as if he were approving their going on a spree to Paris and not merely 3,000 miles away to the bleak environs of a woman’s prison. Still, it could be interesting. Neither had never been to a federal women’s prison. At least, it would be different.
6
Even Criminals Have Standards
December 16, 1976
Alderson Women’s Prison
Alderson, West Virginia
The Alderson Federal Women’s Prison isn’t a long way from nowhere, unless you are inside it. It’s about 270 miles southwest of Washington, D.C., and is near Alderson, West Virginia, which is back to a long way from nowhere.
The oldest federal women’s prison, Alderson was established with the help of Eleanor Roosevelt, while she was first lady. It looks more like a place where you would go for week-long business retreats, except you can’t leave. There are no metal fences and no walls, except on the inside. It looks different than what you would expect for a reason. A women’s prison is different because women are more communal than men. They aren’t as violent; notice, I didn’t say they weren’t violent. They just aren’t as violent. If you’re sent to a place like Alderson and if you’ve been around, you know what the alternatives are if you don’t obey the rules. Given the alternatives, people generally obey the rules.
Most of the inmates are there for crimes involving men they hooked up with or for drugs. Some of them are there for more sophisticated, white collar crimes. Alderson has been home for some celebrated criminals. Axis Sally was incarcerated there after World War II for treason, and so were Squeaky Fromme and Sara Jane Moore for shooting at the same president—but at different times, of course. More recently, Martha Stewart worked in the laundry there. Some of the inmates are there so that law enforcement can make a public point, and when that kind of prisoner leaves, she seldom returns to the system. But some inmates are basically just criminals; it’s what they do, and they don’t need men to help them. For them, doing time in Alderson is just the cost of doing business and it is sometimes far better than the alternatives. Barbara Carrasco was a criminal. However, even criminals have standards. The question facing Blade and Lean, as they waited to get inside, was what kind of standards Barbara Carrasco had.
You have to be careful when you question a woman. You have to be a little more oblique than you are with men. But the tricks are the same as with any interrogation—keep them talking. Don’t confront unless you have to. Wait until they make a mistake and keep massaging that conscience buried down there somewhere. With a woman, you have to watch for just the right moment before you bring up the big question. When talking about their man, they are more loyal than men are to each other. So it can take longer. And the reality is that women will talk for a long time while they are thinking about where they are going to wind up before they get to the point. If you push them too hard, they will just stop talking. Men don’t talk as much so you have to push them differently. No one knows better than a homicide detective how different men are from women.
Carrasco was no cherry; she had been through the system. She was used to jail and she was used to cops. A cherry breaks easier and they talk easier because they still have a certain respect for authority—and they are afraid of you. They don’t want you to think they are really bad people. That’s a funny thing about people being interrogated for the first time. They are concerned about what you think of them, and they don’t realize that just because you sound friendly, you don’t really care about them. You would think that when a person is in custody, they would realize you probably aren’t very impressed with them. But wherever they are, most people still want to be liked—even in prison.
When you talk to somebody who has been through the system, they aren’t afraid of you. They know who you are, what you are, and what you can and can’t do to them when you sit down in front of them. People like Carrasco know you don’t have their best interests at heart. They don’t give a damn what you think of them and they know you don’t give a damn about them. You want something; they have something. How you talk to a person like Carrasco is entirely different than how you talk to a cherry. So, for Blade and Lean, the whole issue was Carrasco’s motivation: What did she want and what was her reason for wanting it?
Carrasco wanted help for her kid, but most of all she wanted to get even with the man who hurt him. Since she was in the joint, the only way she could get even was by using people on the outside. Basically, she needed cops to do what she wanted—that is, as long as she wanted it to be legal. So Blade and Tommy knew that the key with her was to stay on her good side and to convince her they could help her get even. They would let her use them, but they had to be careful. After all, she was a criminal. She could lie, and most of the time she did during her everyday life. You would take what she said for what it was worth and figure how you could use it. She would give it for what she thought it was worth and what she could get out of it—no more, no less. Blade and Tommy had already decided their MO—give her the opportunity to screw Allen and thus create a mutually beneficial relationship.
When she walked through the door, they knew in an instant that this interrogation was going to be conducted on equal terms. Barbara Carrasco was about five feet, four or five. Her face had the ruddy look of a fair-complexioned person who had worked long hours in the sun, although you couldn’t tell what it had once been like, as it had coarsened from hard times. Her hair was beginning to show gray through its original brownish color, and it was pulled away from her face. If it had been brushed, the brush had been her fingers. She didn’t bother with makeup to cover up what she was; it was clear she was comfortable with her looks. She was heavyset in a way that told you this was a woman who could do hard work. She was around forty but she looked older, as if she had earned every one of her years the hard way. You had the sense that Carrasco wouldn’t be afraid to hit a man, nor would she fear getting into a fight with a woman—or a man. Some people just have that look—like they may not win if you tangle with them but you’re going to get hurt if you do. Barbara Carrasco had that look. She didn’t extend her hand. She looked at the two detectives, tilting her head like she was sizing them up and sat down. Carrasco understood her world. She knew the ropes and she had a certain amount of stature in the prison; the older inmates usually do if they’ve been around. Barbara Carrasco had definitely been around. She wouldn’t take crap from anybody, including cops. Both detectives knew immediately the usual bullshit wasn’t going to work.
Blade
