Perfect Victim (9 page)

Not until much later would the prosecutor understand that while she was attempting to probe beneath the surface of those seven years, Colleen was doing her best to bury them.

Rolland Papendick had presented a motion to bar the press from the preliminary hearing, but attorneys representing major newspapers flew up from Sacramento to file counter arguments.

Soon it seemed that every newsperson who could figure out how was filing a supporting brief before Judge Dennis E. Murray.

At thirty-four, Murray was young for a judge. He ran a conservative courtroom, legally straight and narrow, but he had a sympathetic nature and was concerned about protecting the witnesses, who would be offering very personal and emotional testimony in this case. He denied Papendick’s motion to exclude the press, but when the media requested permission to film the proceedings, the baby-faced judge said he hoped to control “the circus atmosphere” and denied this request as well.

Freedom of the press had prevailed, and when Deputy DA Mcguire entered the courtroom the morning of December 5, she was stunned to find it filled — camerapersons and newspeople occupying every seat and lining the walls. Standing room only.

This just never happened in Red Bluff. She was nervous. The baby had kept her up part of the night, and she’d tossed and turned the rest. She was acutely aware of gaps in law enforcement’s knowledge of this case, and during the night the gaps, had grown into huge chasms. She had the feeling that anything could happen.

There was rampant skepticism about the case. Lt. Jerry Brown had told her that he’d heard nothing but dubious remarks from the media after the press conference, and it seemed that she and the police were the only ones who believed in the charges against Hooker.

But the purpose of a preliminary hearing is to determine whether there is enough evidence to bring the defendant to trial, not to convert disbelievers, and the judge would be the one to decide whether to try Cameron Hooker.

Several issues had to be discussed in chambers before the preliminary hearing began, but at last all was in order and the two attorneys entered the courtroom and took their seats.

Hooker, wearing a flannel shirt, gray cords, and a two-tone blue ski jacket, was brought over from the jail to take his seat next to Papendick at the defense table. He flashed a brave smile at his parents, younger brother, and sister-in-law, who sat in the spectators’ seats behind him. With his round face and wirerim spectacles, he looked more like a boyish country accountant than a sadistic criminal.

At the table for the prosecution, Officer Shamblin sat jiggling his leg nervously while Deputy DA Mcguire shifted papers and fidgeted. Janice’s attorney, Ron Mclver, took a seat in the empty jury box.

It was after ten-thirty by the time order was called and the proceedings began.

The Court: People of the State of California versus Cameron M. Hooker. This is the time and place for the preliminary hearing in Case No. 13961. Are the People ready to proceed?

Ms. Mcguire: Yes, Your Honor, we are.

The Court: Mr. Papendick, is the Defendant ready?

Mr. Papendick: Yes, we’re ready, Your Honor.

The Court: Ms. Mcguire, you may call your first witness.

Ms. Mcguire: Call Janice Hooker.

Janice Hooker was brought in, and everyone scrutinized her as she was sworn in. Wearing, again, jeans and a sweatshirt, her long, wavy hair partially obscuring her round face, she doubtless disappointed those expecting leather and chains. There was nothing at all racy about her. She looked like some overweight shopper you’d see pushing a cart at a discount store.

Mcguire started almost immediately with the kidnap, and within a few minutes Janice had set the tone for the rest of the day. Frequently wiping a nervous hand across her face, avoiding her husband’s eyes, she responded after long, empty pauses — or sometimes not at all. She often offered nothing more than, “I can’t remember,” or “I don’t know.” And she spoke so softly that more than once the judge had to ask her to speak up.

For Mcguire, “it was like pulling teeth.” She finally resorted to leading questions, which only provoked objections from the defense and admonitions from the bench.

After long and tedious questioning, the prosecutor elicited a recounting of the kidnap and the first several months of captivity, having Mrs. Hooker identify the knife, the head box, a whip, and the Bible. But when she came to the slavery contract, Janice became even less responsive. She replied in hushed monosyllables and claimed to know very little about the contract or how it came to be signed.

Though she tried to appear calm, the diminutive prosecutor was furious. During the course of her direct examination she had to refresh Janice’s recollection twice, and Jan’s unwillingness to talk at least doubled the time it took to present the case.

With so many lengthy pauses and dead-end questions, the day dragged by. On the surface the prelim was proceeding at a numbingly slow pace, but Mcguire felt an underlying sense of urgency.

Slogging through Jan’s testimony, she feared the case against Hooker was coming out as unconvincing and fragmentary. Somehow, she needed to shake Jan up.

During recesses Mcguire went back to the jury room and tried to bolster some kind of allegiance with Jan, hoping to break down her resistance.

“I know this is taking a lot of courage on your part, Janice. I know it’s not easy to testify against your husband. But it’s very important that you be clear in your answers and tell the court exactly what you told police.”

“Okay,” Jan answered dully. “I’ll be careful, think more about my answers before — I say them.”

Mcguire gnashed her teeth. Did Janice really think she was being cooperative? Or was this just her way of frustrating the prosecutor? Mcguire couldn’t tell, and she didn’t want to risk a confrontation. It was bad enough that Janice was being so mulish; it would be worse to have her hostile.

Janice Hooker’s attorney, Ron Mclver, a man so warmhearted it’s hard to believe he’s a lawyer, sympathized with the difficulty his colleague was having with his client. He came back to the jury room and tried to lend Mcguire support, joining in the pep talks: “We know you’re nervous, Janice. You’re doing fine.”

Privately, he told Mcguire that Jan had been vacillating up to the very last minute. The night before, he said, he thought she was going to back down.

That was the bright side: Bad as she was, at least Janice was on the stand.

But whatever the two attorneys said, it seemed to have no effect on the torpid Mrs. Hooker. Her testimony resumed at the same wearisome pace.

When Papendick began his crossexamination, Jan was more responsive. Her monosyllabic responses became complete, if short, sentences. It was if she were testifying for the defense rather than for the prosecution.

Still, her memory lapses continued, and Mr. Papendick finally zeroed in on the reason.

“Are you under any medication today?”

“Yes, I am.”

“What medication have you taken?”

“Xanax, Desyrel.”

Janice had been taking these two drugs-Xanax, a “mood elevator” or antianxiety drug, said to stop spontaneous and situational panic attacks, and Desyrel, an antidepressant-since September. Because appearing in court put her under additional stress, she’d decided to take a double dosage, which explained her excruciating slowness. But Papendick used this information to attack Jan’s credibility.

“Do you think it affects your ability to remember things?”

“Yes.”

“In what way?”

“It makes me not be able to think quite as clear.”

“Does it cause you any problem in understanding and answering questions?”

“At times.”

Then Papendick got Jan to admit that she had lied that she was pregnant to get Cameron to marry her, implying that lying came easily to her. He also established that Colleen had worked unsupervised and unrestrained — as a housekeeper and a babysitter.

And he repeatedly underscored the fact that Colleen had held down an outside job.

But perhaps the most damaging and shocking admission was that Janice and Colleen had gone to bars to drink and meet men.

The next day, this would lead the story in the Red Bluff Daily News (“Wife Testifies Hooker Let Women Visit Bars”), fueling the already vociferous skepticism being voiced in the community.

Reflecting on the day’s testimony and Mrs. Hooker’s “unstable” condition, Lt. Jerry Brown shook his head and said, “Poor Christine. She had a heck of a day.”

Janice’s testimony began the second morning as a virtual repeat of day one. She was a bit less sedated but still reluctant to answer questions. Mcguire only hoped they could get through Janice’s testimony quickly so she could get Colleen on the stand.

But that was too much to hope for, and some of Janice’s responses under crossexamination nearly sent Christine into a panic.

Papendick asked: “While you lived on Oak Street, did Cameron and Colleen leave the house together alone?”

“Yes,” Jan replied.

“How often?”

“Every weekend.”

“And how long were they gone?”

“All day.”

“They went out and cut posts, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“When Colleen left the house, was she restrained, bound, gagged in any way?”

“No.”

At the next break, Mcguire rushed back to the jury room where Colleen was waiting and confronted her with this new information.

“But that’s not true,” Colleen protested. “I never left the Oak Street house. Jan’s wrong; she’s lying.”

With that, Mcguire hurried to the office where Jan was kept and confronted her with Colleen’s denial.

Janice looked puzzled. “Well, I could be mistaken,” she said.

That didn’t help. Now the prosecutor had a major inconsistency to worry about and she didn’t know whom to believe.

Throughout the morning, Papendick painted Colleen Stan’s captivity in pastel shades and got Janice to make more damaging revelations. Moreover, he portrayed Janice Hooker as a jealous woman, desperate to get Colleen Stan out of the house and away from her husband.

“Did you believe, in 1984, that Colleen loved Cameron?”

“Yes.”

“And isn’t it a fact that the reason you went to the police is because you feared that Colleen and Cameron would get back together?”

“No.”

“Did you tell Cameron that?”

“Tell Cameron what?”

“That you feared that if Colleen came back to Northern California that she and Cameron would see each other?”

“Yes.”

Mcguire crossed her arms with irritation. This hearing wasn’t going at all as she’d expected. Papendick was turning it into a disaster for the prosecution, and she’d had just about enough of Mrs. Hooker’s surprises. She only hoped that Colleen would be a better witness.

Shortly before eleven, both attorneys completed their questions of Janice Hooker and Deputy DA Mcguire called Colleen Stan.

Reporters craned to take in this mysterious “sex slave” as she entered the room and approached the stand, noting the enormous difference between this young woman and Mrs. Hooker.

Janice was heavy and untidy; Colleen, while a bit plump, was attractive and neat. (Mcguire inwardly cringed at the spike heels and slinky dress she wore, thinking they made Colleen look “flashy” and gave credence to Papendick’s version of the story.)

Looking pale and nervous, her wispy, light brown hair falling past her shoulders, Colleen Stan took the stand and was sworn in. Again, the prosecutor began her questions with May 19, 1977 — the kidnapping.

After Jan’s monosyllabic responses, Colleen seemed almost loquacious, although she spoke softly and in brief sentences. She recounted the events of the day that began with a hitchhiking expedition and ended in the basement of the Hookers’ house. But Colleen answered questions about the knife, the head box, the whipping, and the rack, Christine couldn’t help but be struck again by her flat and unemotional tone.

On nearly every point, Colleen’s testimony mirrored Janice’s exactly. But not always. Christine noted with interest that the two had divergent versions of one small but provocative episode. Janice had testified that she had come downstairs the second day of Colleen’s captivity and covered her with a blanket, but Jan’s recollection clashed with Colleen’s.

“Do you recall whether or not, one time, Janice Hooker came down and had a conversation with you approximately the second day on the rack?”

“Yes.”

“And what was that conversation?”

“She asked me if I knew where I was, and I said, yes, that I was in Red Bluff, and she said, no, I wasn’t in Red Bluff. And she asked me, if she let me go, what would I do, and I told her I would go to the police and tell them I was kidnapped. And she told me I was stupid, and she shut the box back up and went away.”

Mcguire wasn’t sure who to believe on this point, but she made a mental note that Janice Hooker may have been trying to portray herself in an unrealistically favorable light.

At the lunch break, Al brought in sacks of fast food for Colleen and her father so that they could eat in private. Christine Mcguire went to the frozen yogurt shop to indulge her notorious addiction, an almost daily pilgrimage.

At two P.M. court reconvened, and the prosecutors focused on the issues of domination and subjugation and on the rapes and other crimes that Hooker would be charged with if the case went to trial, through it all, Christine was surprised by Colleen’s openness. Some of what she described was quite graphic. And some of it was almost painful to listen to.

The questioning of Colleen Stan moved much more quickly than had that of Janice Hooker, for Colleen was alert, if not terribly emotive. Soon Mcguire sat down and turned her witness rivet to Papendic for crossexamination.

Again, the defense attorney brought out some startling testimony that didn’t seem to fit, making Mcguire wonder again just what had happened and who these strange people were.

“Did you tell Cameron, in 1981, you loved him?”

“I don’t know if it was in 1981. I did tell him one time I loved him.”

“When was the first time you told him you loved him?”