Small Sacrifices (66 page)

"She pulled herself up and arranged a smile on her face. Chris was crying--but Diane managed to keep that smile." Jack Hamann calls out, "What was going through your mind when you heard the verdict?"

"I don't know," Diane answers flatly. "What am I supposed to think?"

"Were the verdicts a surprise?"

"Obviously ..."

Diane smiles until the doors of the jail wagon close behind her. Only then does she cry.

At 1:10 a.m., Jim Jagger answers reporters' questions. No, he was not surprised at the verdict; he knew that the jurors had voted to convict Diane of the four lesser charges rather early in their deliberations, that there had been only one hold-out in the voting to convict her of murder. Yes, certainly, he had warned Diane that it wasn't going to be good.

Upstairs in Judge Greg Foote's chambers, Foote had ordered champagne and strawberries to be shared when the trial was finally over. It was not a celebration party; rather, it was Foote's way of rewarding his staff for their support over the long haul. Foote, his secretary, Marj McElhose, his law clerk, Sharon Roe, and his reporter, Kay Cates, and her fiance, gathered to mark the end of something that had consumed their lives for a solid year. Greg Foote knew that Diane's sentencing loomed ahead, but for now there was respite, and he was mightily grateful to his staff for sticking with the case with as much dedication as he himself felt. Fred Hugi would have been invited, but he had already

ducked out of the courthouse. He had spotted Anne Bradley headed his way, and even though he likes Bradley, he had no comments for the press. Hugi headed into the night, back up along the river toward home.

The reading of the verdict had been basically ceremonial for him. Jim Jagger had already called Hugi with tentative congratulations on the lesser charges, saying, "I'm still hoping for a holdout." And, indeed there had been one. Rumors later mentioned one juror and then another as the one who'd balked. No one would ever know for sure; the jurors kept the answer to themselves. The question that kept coming up before a unanimous decision could be reached had been: "If the case was so strong, why did the State have to wait for Christie to remember?" One of the questions Hugi suspected might come up.

Still, Fred Hugi had remained confident that the jurors would ultimately be unanimous on the murder charge.

And he'd been right.

Hugi was tired—but tired the way he felt at the end of a long run. The tension that had walked with him for more than a year was gone. He had begun the trial over one hundred seventy-five pounds. He now weighed one hundred sixty.

Judge Foote and his staff left the courthouse and went out for a late meal. The news of the verdict had hit the news at 1:00 a.m. Cars were honking along the streets, almost as if a war had ended. As Foote and his group walked into the Electric Station, diners in the restaurant stood up and applauded.

It was June 17, 1984, almost two o'clock in the morning. The sky was clear. The moon was seven-eighths full.

It was Father's Day.

Ten days later--on June 27--Doug Welch and Chris Rosage drove Diane to Sacred Heart Hospital in Eugene. Her labor was induced at 4:30 that afternoon, and throughout that warm evening Diane's contractions accelerated. Chris stayed with her; if she had not, Diane would have been alone in her labor. Wes and Willadene were not there, nor any of the rest of her family.

Welch waited in the hallway. He heard Diane cry out only a few times. Women in other labor rooms screamed and moaned, and some cursed their husbands--but not Diane. She was stoic in her pain.

At Diane's request, Chris Rosage went into the delivery room with her. It was a far, far cry from the joyous scene at Jennifer's birth in Louisville two years earlier. There were no grateful parents crying with her.

Amy Elizabeth Downs was born at 10:06 p.m. She weighed

eight pounds, five ounces and she was twenty and one half inches long. Diane had reconsidered her choice of "Charity Lynn" after hearing Hugi describe her babies as "fungible." Amy Elizabeth was a lovely baby who looked to Diane much like Christie had at birth. She had almond-shaped eyes and long slender fingers. Diane was allowed to hold her baby for a long time. She even let Welch hold her. Perhaps the birth experience had mitigated Diane's animosity toward Welch. More likely, Fred Hugi had proved to be so much more savage an enemy that Welch didn't seem so bad anymore.

Within a few hours Diane was back in her jail cell, emptied of love and the baby who had helped her through the bad months and the tedious trial.

In the morning, she wrote to Matt Jensen. The letter, forwarded through a long series of addresses, reached him days

,.. ^' t

later. By that time, he had read of the birth in clippings sent from Oregon. Diane blamed Jensen for the loss of her baby girl.

"She is perfectly formed and healthy. I will not tell you where she is because you will not be allowed to see her. I don't know if the news media has learned of her birth yet, so I wanted to let you know myself. I guess what I really want is to spread my pain and loss to you. You may not even care, but I do. She is such a beautiful child and I will miss her greatly. Will you?" Matt Jensen had already signed a document releasing any

claim to the child. However, he had balked at being designated the biological father because he could not be sure. He asked that the document be changed to read, "I believe that I could be the biological father--" before he signed.

Jensen knew he had been selected solely for insemination. He wished the baby well, and he hoped that she would be happy and safe. But he felt no connection to her.

Diane would write to him again, urging him to take the baby, so that Willadene could take care of her until she got out of prison: "Why did you let her go? . . . How can you just let her be adopted? Don't you know all the insecurities Amy will face as she grows up? She'll wonder why her mom and dad deserted her. She'll think she was unloved and unwanted. How can you say you wish that on your own child? What are you going to say in twenty-one years when she shows up on your doorstep and says,

'Daddy, didn't you love me?'

"You wouldn't even have to raise her . . . My parents [Amy's grandma] would have been more than happy to care for their new granddaughter for the next few years that I have to be away. I'm not gonna be gone that long, ya know!"

He didn't answer any of her letters.

He didn't know her.

Diane Downs took her place with the grotesques of the 1980s. On July 17 the tabloid The Weekly World News printed a full-page picture of her; "Kids Cramped Her Style ... so the fiendish mom shot them!"

It was a long way from what she had once pictured: her

picture on the cover of People or Time.

As Diane waited for sentencing, her days took on a sameness. Her cell was nine and a half by ten feet, with a bunk, a toilet, a sink, and one small window high up for light. Breakfast call in 462 ANN RULE

the Lane County Correctional Center came at six, and lights out at 11:30 p.m. There was little to do but read and write letters. Two months after the birth of Amy Elizabeth--on August 28_

Diane appeared before Judge Foote again, this time for sentencing. Both Fred Hugi and Jim Jagger spoke, and Dr. George Suckow testified about his psychiatric examination of Diane. Dr. Suckow's testimony was most important. Under Oregon law, a murder conviction brings a life sentence--but there is no mandatory minimum unless the convicted is declared a Dangerous Offender. In Suckow's opinion, Diane's personality disorders qualified her. Dr. Suckow diagnosed Diane as having not one, but three, disorders: Narcissistic, Histrionic, and Antisocial.

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Most laymen have difficulty understanding the term: personality disorder. All of us have personality traits--the way we relate, perceive, and think about ourselves and our environments. Trouble begins if our personality traits become inflexible and unworkable, blunting our social lives, interfering with our ability to function, to enjoy, to interact happily with others. If that happens, those traits or quirks become personality disorders. Those with personality disorders usually show manifestations by adolescence--or even earlier--and they continue into adulthood, although they may become less apparent as we age.

Even professionals refer frequently to definitons in the psychiatrists'

bible, DSM-III (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of

Mental Disorders), to differentiate one personality disorder from another. And there is still a great deal of overlapping. The fine points on all three disorders--Histrionic, Narcissistic, and Antisocial--as outlined in the DSM might well have been written about Diane Downs:

301.50 Histrionic Personality Disorder: The essential feature is a Personality Disorder in which there are overly dramatic, reactive, and intensely expressed behavior and characteristic disturbances in interpersonal relationships. Individuals with this disorder are lively and dramatic and are always drawing attention to themselves. They are prone to exaggerate tion and often act out a role, such as the "victim" or the

"princess" . . .

According to DSM-III, the diagnosis as a histrionic will often

find the patient "craving for activity and excitement . . .exaggerated expression of emotion . . . irrational angry outbursts or tantrums

. . . incessant drawing of attention to one's self." 301.70: Antisocial Personality Disorder: The essential

feature is a Personality Disorder in which there is a history of continuous and chronic antisocial behavior in which the rights of others are violated, persistence into adult life of a pattern of antisocial behavior that began before the age of 15 . . . Some of the myriad manifestations of the antisocial personality disorder beyond the age of 18 are "lack of ability to function as a responsible parent . . . inability to maintain enduring attachment to a sexual partner . . . irritability and aggressiveness as indicated by repeated fights or assault . . . including spouse or child beating . . . impulsivity . . . disregard for the truth . . . "conning" others for personal profit

. . . recklessness . . . recurrent speeding . . .

301.81 Narcissistic Personality Disorder: The essential

feature is . .'7 a grandiose sense of self-importance or uniqueness; preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success; exhibitionistic need for constant attention and admiration; characteristic responses to threats to self-esteem; and characteristic

disturbances in interpersonal relationships, such as feelings of entitlement, interpersonal exploitiveness, relationships that alternate between the extremes of overidealization and devaluation, and lack of empathy . . . Fantasies involving unrealistic goals may involve achieving unlimited ability, power, wealth, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love ... In response to criticism, defeat, or disappointment, there is either a cool indifference or marked feelings of rage, inferiority, shame, humilitation, or emptiness.

Diane fits them all, in one slot or another. Despite her miles

|of tape and pages of words of explanation, Diane Downs remains an enigma. Her crimes are incomprehensible to the consciencedriven person--her behavior outrageous. But Diane Downs is not

insane--neither legally or medically. She suffers from the personality disorders described in the DSM-III. She always will.

Insanity can be cured. Personality disorders are so inextrica"biy entwined in the heart and mind and soul that it is well-nigh 464 ANN RULE

impossible to excise them. It would be much less difficult to eradicate Diane's giant rose tattoo than it would be to change her perception of herself and others.

Psychiatrists who examined her before she was accepted into the surrogate mother program had come up with findings similar to Suckow's. She had not changed.

Nor will she.

The narcissist loves only himself. The histrionic is always

"on stage." The sociopath (antisocial personality) has no conscience. And all three love mischief, excitement, and trouble.

Psychosis--insanity--is relatively easy to diagnose. Most psychoses can be cured or alleviated with aggressive therapy. Given the option, it is preferable to be "crazy." Crazy gets better; consciences don't grow back, and narcissists and histrionics never learn to give up center stage or their beloved mirrors.

Sometime in her past, perhaps when others failed her, when her frail ego faltered, Diane Downs turned inward. She perceived that no one liked her, or had enough time for her. She fell in love with her own image. "I thought I was the nicest person I knew." The narcissist expects special favors of others without responding in kind. Diane seems to have felt this sense of "entitlement" since she was a child.

When Diane could not manipulate people to do what she

wanted, she reacted with indignation and rage. Four-year-olds scream for ice cream; adults learn that you don't always get what you want. Diane Downs never did.

Diane's interpersonal relationships were the most destructive of all. What she wanted mattered; what someone else might want or need did not. Whatever means she employed to attain what she wanted--lying, cheating, wheedling, seduction, manipulation . . . even murder--were entirely justifiable in her mind. Continually, she sought someone to take care of her, to make her life wonderful. Her course was unrealistic and pregnant with disappointment, but she never varied. Even with Christie and Cheryl and Danny. Their assignment had been to love her totally, to make her feel needed--but then to stay away when she wanted to be with one of her men.

For all of her life, Diane has searched for "pure love."

"Heart love." But she can offer nothing in return. Diane Downs's hunger for unconditional love is akin to a trick pitcher which seems eternally to be half empty--even though a steady stream of fluid pours into it.

* * *

The term "histrionic" derives from the Latin word for actor:

"histrio." Anyone who has seen Diane Downs on the witness stand, on television, or at a press conference, will nod at the second diagnosis. She is on stage wherever she is. Her life is a continuous performance. If it takes slitting her wrists or firing a gun through the floor to get someone's attention, she will do it. Diane Downs is a sociopath--an antisocial personality--perhaps the most familiar psychiatric term to most of us. She has not the slightest concern for the rights of others. A brilliant mind with no conscience to guide it, the antisocial personality has been likened to a blank television screen, to a computer, or a robot. It mimics "real" people, giving back only what it must to receive gratification.