“His first conviction,” says Austin, “was about thirteen years ago, when he was twenty. He tried to coerce a woman into an alley at gunpoint. He pleaded the case down to simple assault in state court. With the plea, he avoided prison. He was arrested on a sexual assault nearly six months later, but the charges were dropped when the victim refused to testify. Another six months later, he was convicted of possession of a firearm and possession of a Schedule One controlled substance, and he served just over three years. Most recently, he was convicted in federal court of possession of a firearm under similar circumstances as his first conviction; he tried to force a woman and her child into his car by threat of a firearm. He got seventy-five months on the weapons charge, or about six and a half years in federal prison. He attacked a prison psychiatrist, a woman, while inside and got another eighteen months added to his sentence. Prison psychiatrists said he was capable of violent and impulsive behavior, that he had no sense of remorse or right versus wrong—so he was pretty high up on our list.”
The way that information rolls off Austin’s tongue, you get the feeling he’s said these things many times—like, for example, to these young female reporters with the movie-star looks, who are just doing their job, sure, but who also can’t help being just a little bit attracted to this strong, powerful man who caught the bad guy and helps them sleep safely at night.
“When was Marshall Rivers released from federal custody?” Shauna asks.
“This past January. January . . . the sixteenth, I believe it was.”
“And that most recent conviction, in federal court,” says Shauna. “He was initially arrested by city police officers. That case started here locally, with the county attorney’s office, not with federal agents, isn’t that correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“And in fact, Mr. Rivers gave a statement—a confession—to an assistant county attorney, didn’t he?”
“He did, yes.”
“And that assistant county attorney was Jason Kolarich, was it not?”
“So I’ve come to learn,” he says. “That wasn’t easy information to come by, because Rivers took a plea in federal court. He didn’t go to trial, so there wasn’t much of a record. But yes, over the weekend we were able to track down that information and confirm it.”
He’s sounding a little defensive here, because it’s something he didn’t know until recently, and he wants to be the guy who knows everything about Marshall Rivers. Some people, in the coming days and weeks, might say Austin should have known that fact, should have tracked it down at the time when the north side murders were solved. But I’m not one of those people. My name barely crept into that case at all. It was a federal prosecution having nothing to do with a state prosecutor like me, and the case didn’t even go to trial. Rivers pleaded out to avoid a possible ten-year sentence. The police would have no reason to dig any deeper into that file. They had no inkling that Rivers was acting out of revenge—they thought he was a garden-variety sociopath who preyed on young women—so they had no reason to look for objects of his revenge.
“And wouldn’t you agree, Detective, that the reason that Mr. Rivers took a plea in federal court, instead of fighting the charge, is because he had no chance after Jason secured his confession?”
“Objection,” says Roger Ogren. “Foundation.”
“Sustained.”
“Isn’t it fair to say that he had Jason Kolarich, and only Jason Kolarich, to blame for being sent away for over six years?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained. Move on, Ms. Tasker.”
Fair enough. Shauna made the point, anyway.
Shauna nods, waits a beat or two, sneaks a peek at the jury. “Detective, how did Marshall Rivers subdue his victims?”
“In each case, he assaulted the victim as she was returning to her home. In most cases, he gained entry to the victim’s dwelling, and in one instance the attack took place within the victim’s automobile. But generally, he would lie in wait and ambush the victim.”
Just like he ambushed Alexa Himmel as she walked into Jason’s town house, Shauna will argue in her final summation to the jury. She won’t have every single answer. She won’t be able to explain why this particular ambush-murder didn’t go according to script, how it was that he ended up shooting her in the back on the second floor of my town house instead of carving her up with a knife on the ground floor. But it’s not the defense’s job to dot every i and cross every t. We just have to kick up enough dust to get reasonable doubt.
“Detective, was there anything else that connected these murders? Anything in particular that Marshall Rivers did to his victims that would serve as some kind of trademark or calling card or . . . signature?”
“There was,” says the detective.
“And before you tell us about that signature, let me ask you: Has this information ever been publicly revealed?”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“Is that common, when you have a string of murders that appear to have the same trademark or signature—is it common to keep that signature out of the press, away from the public?”
I assume most people already know that the answer is yes, based on what they’ve seen on television.
“That’s correct,” says Austin. “Particularly when the string of murders has received significant media attention. When that happens, we tend to get a lot of bogus confessions, people just looking for attention. You can tell real from fake confessions when you hold back information, so only the real killer would know it.”
“I see. It also helps you distinguish between crimes committed by that killer versus crimes committed by a copycat.”
“That’s also true. You can’t be a copycat if you don’t know the killer’s signature in the first place.”
“So, Detective, what was Marshall Rivers’s signature, his calling card, never before made public?”
Shauna laid that on pretty thick. Detective Austin doesn’t seem impressed with the melodrama. Or maybe he’s just pissed off he has to make this information public. Maybe he wanted to save it for the book he’s going to write.
He says, “The offender injected a drug called fentanyl into each victim.”
“Can you tell us what fentanyl is?” Shauna asks.
“I’m not a chemist or a coroner, but, generally, yes. It’s a very powerful narcotic, kind of like morphine or heroin, but typically much more potent. It mostly comes here illegally from Mexico. We see it a lot here in the city as ‘China white’ or ‘AMF.’ It’s not the biggest drug problem we have, but it’s definitely out there.”
“Isn’t it true that fentanyl can also be used as an incapacitating agent?”
“Yes, it can be.”
“Meaning it can be used to knock out or paralyze a victim.”
“That’s correct.”
“And it’s powerful, isn’t it? It’s more powerful as an incapacitating agent than, say, GHB, the date-rape drug.”
Detective Austin hedges, his head moving side to side. “You may be going past my knowledge base. I’ve heard people say what you just said, but I don’t know it to be true. It’s powerful, I’d agree with that.”
Shauna can live with that. “And in fact, Detective, didn’t you come to believe that Marshall Rivers used the fentanyl injection to incapacitate his victims?”
Austin bows his head, a curt nod. “That’s correct. Now, whether he incapacitated them immediately with the fentanyl injection or whether he first subdued them and then used it to prevent them from fighting back—that’s a difficult thing to know.”
“And it’s also possible that he wasn’t using it to subdue them at all. That he was just injecting them as some kind of branding, to put his personal stamp on the murders. Isn’t that also possible?”
“You can never rule that out,” says Austin. “Sometimes with these sociopaths, they do strange things like that. They want ownership over the murders.”