Under the Bridge (22 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Godfrey,Ellen R. Sasahara,Felicity Don

BOOK: Under the Bridge
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“No”

“Could you try and be as specific as you can about when he was talking about 187? Did he say anything about how it happened or where it happened?”

“That's all he told me. I didn't—I didn't—I didn't believe him. I didn't believe him. I was like, ‘Oh yeah.' I didn't think he had done it at that point. I thought he was just saying that it happened.”

“And now, what do you think?”

“I don't know what to think,” she said, and she began to sob.

“Have you spoken to Kelly at all about this?”

“No”

“Are you and Kelly friends?”

“Acquaintances.”

“Are Kelly and Warren good friends?”

“They talk in school, and we all hang out with the same people, but I wouldn't say they're good friends.”

“Okay. Let's go back to when he was at your house and you confronted him about kicking a girl in the face. What exactly did he say? Just take a moment and think about it. If you have to, close your eyes to concentrate and clear your head and think about it. We're not in any hurry.”

“At first he asked me who told me, and I told him Tara. He said Tara needs to keep her mouth shut. I said, ‘Too bad. Just tell me why you did it.' He said, I don't know why I did it. Everyone was doing it. I was just there. It just happened.'

“I said, ‘Oh, that's really cool. You kicked a girl in the face.'

“He told me not to worry about it. That's what he always does when I try to get something out of him. He told me not to worry about it. That's all he told me.”

“Okay. Let's start at the beginning of the conversation about 187. We'll get you to relax again, and just try and think about the conversation you had with him at his house. Was anything extra said other than what you've already told us? Try and add more detail. Give us as much detail about that conversation as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“We got to his house and I was lying on his bed, and he was getting changed out of his gym clothes. I went and called my mom to see if he
could come over, and when I came back to the bedroom, he said, ‘Do you really want to know what me and Kelly were talking about?'

“I said, ‘No. If you don't want to tell me, I don't want to know.' And then he said, ‘Exactly that. 187.' And we sat there. He said that he didn't want me to know because he didn't know what I'd think of it. He didn't want me to worry about it. I don't know exactly what he said.”

“Did he say that he had done this 187?”

“No. He told me that him and Kelly or something happens. Something happened and Kelly was standing there and Kelly was … Kelly was doing something to her, and then, he told me that she got … I can't remember what he told me.”

“We're going to get you to relax because again, you've come up with more stuff. It sounds like it's all right there. You start at the beginning of what he told you, and you grab a bit in the middle and then you skip to the end. I think if you really concentrate you'll be able to fill the whole thing in. And another thing, I notice you keep using the word
something.

“I think if you really think about it, you'll remember exactly what that
something
is. I think that something is something very terrible, and so you don't want to say it out loud. We all know what happened is terrible. Your mom knows what happened. My partner knows what happened. I know what happened. It was a terrible thing that happened, but we're going to have to talk about it. If you could just get it all out, as opposed to just leaving it as ‘something.' I think that you're just trying to—it's not real until you say it, but it is real. Okay? And it did happen. And nothing is going to change that it happened. If we could just get you to talk about that conversation again, and when you start to feel yourself say
something,
maybe just stop yourself and think about what that something is. Can you do that for us?”

“I'll try.”

“Can you start with the conversation at his house?”

“I've got to think about it for a minute.”

“Take as much time as you need.”

“He didn't really explain much to me. I didn't want to know. He just kind of said that they'd gone down after and I don't know what happened, but then they dragged her into the Gorge. He said that Kelly held her head under for five minutes first, and then they threw her in.”

Syreeta began to cry now, although she had been crying quietly throughout the interview. She put her hands to her eyes.

“Does that help, telling us about it? I can see that you've really got quite a burden here. You've been keeping this all inside for a week. I know there's still more inside of you, and if we could get you to try again. I know it's hard. He's your boyfriend, and it's hard to talk about what happened, but could you try for us?”

“I'm trying to think. He kept asking me if I wanted to know. I just said no, and then eventually the song said 187, and he said exactly that. I don't remember how he told me. He said that it wasn't true that he'd beat up a Native guy. They went down after, and something happened. I can't be exact. I don't want to pin it on anybody.”

“We just want you to tell us what he told you.”

“I think he told me that him and Kelly killed the girl. I really didn't want to know, but then he told me Kelly had, I don't know, kicked her, stepped on her head a couple of times, and then she stuck her head under water for five minutes, and they dragged her into the Gorge.”

“Okay. That's more detail again. I know this is really hard, Syreeta. I do. I know you're not having any fun. This is the worst day you've had in a long time. This is the worst week of your life, I'm sure. And I'm not here to torture you or anything. I just want to get as much detail as I can get. You did really good that time. It flowed, it made sense, and it was in a logical order. Do you think if you just relax for a minute here, you could do it again and fill in all the gaps for us? Is that okay? Is that something you can do if we give you a minute here?”

Still crying, Syreeta said, “I can try.”

“You're doing really well. You're great. We really appreciate what you're doing for us here. The truth is important. It has to come out. So just take a minute and relax, and when you're ready to start again, you can.”

“I don't know what else there is.”

“What did he tell you about him and Kelly going back down there?”

“He didn't give me much detail. He said that they went back down there, and Kelly was kicking and stomping on her head, and then she held her head under water for five minutes, and then they dragged her in the water. He said when they dragged her in the water, her pants came off.”

“Did he say he was dragging her into the water with Kelly?”

“I don't know.”

“You said earlier that ‘they' dragged her in. Is that what he told you?”

“I was in shock. I didn't believe it, but I was in shock, so I wasn't really paying close attention to the detailed words like that. I didn't want to ask him questions about it. I didn't even want to bring it up.”

“Okay. Reena's in the Gorge, and now you have Kelly and Warren on the shore. Where do they go from there?”

“He never got to that point. I assume he went home because he called me at quarter after eleven.”

“In your mind, do you see both him and Kelly dragging her into the water or just him?”

“I see him and Kelly. I don't think Kelly could drag her by herself.”

“And in the same way, do you see Kelly stomping on her head? Or do you see him and Kelly doing it together?”

“When I picture it, I see only Kelly. Then I see them both drag her in. But that could be how I want to picture it.”

“Well, that's a good point. I know he's your boyfriend. I know that entails some feelings and whatnot, and sometimes that can cloud the issue. So think about what he told you, and not of him as your boyfriend. Maybe you've forgotten something because of your feelings for him. Think about it again. Was he stomping on her too?”

“I think he told me that it was just Kelly who jumped on her head, but that could be because I got mad at him when I heard he kicked her in the head. I'm not sure about dragging her in. I think that was both of them.”

“Can you think of anything else that you've been told by Warren that we should know? We don't want you to have to take any extra baggage back home with you. You've been dealt enough this week. He has asked you to keep this secret. He has burdened you with the knowledge of the murder of a young girl. And we want you to be able to leave here with a clear conscience that you've done everything in your power to right this wrong.

“And we're sure you haven't had a good week. You said you had an upset stomach. I'm thinking that's probably not from the flu. It's probably from carrying this around with you. That would be enough to cause anybody to feel nausea for a long time. I think you'll find that you'll feel a lot better tomorrow after being here if you can get everything out in the open. I think you'll have a much better day than you've had all last
week. Do you want to sit for a minute and think if there's anything you missed?”

“I'm pretty sure there isn't.”

“You're
pretty
sure, or you're
really
positive?”

“I'm really sure.”

“You haven't subconsciously or purposely forgotten anything because of the relationship you've had with him? We can understand if that's happened. But we just don't want you to be stuck with this forever. Forever is a long time. You're a young girl. You're going to have a hard time forgetting this as it is and getting on, and it will only be harder if you're carrying some guilt along with you. We don't think you deserve to have any guilt at all. That's why you're in this nice interview room, sitting on this nice couch, instead of in some dingy room that's too hot. Okay? Because we don't think you need any guilt. We think that you're a nice person. You didn't have anything to do with this. You don't need to feel guilty about this. Okay? So is there anything that you've left out?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. How do you feel now that you've told us all about this? Do you feel better or worse?”

“I don't know,” Syreeta said, softly.

“You're probably pretty numb, aren't you, sweetie?” Syreeta's mom said, and she saw her daughter's face was full of tears. What Syreeta said next startled every adult in the room.

“I just want to see Warren,” Syreeta wailed, with her voice like Juliet's.

•   •   •

“I was just chillin' with my friends,” Dimitri told the detectives.

“We went down to Shoreline around 7:30. Everyone was just hanging out there 'cause that's what we usually do. Someone broke a window, and two police officers came and told us to leave. A group of us started to walk down toward the Mac's. Everyone started to go to underneath the bridge.

“Everyone was just sitting there and talking and then, all of a sudden, people were saying, ‘Grab her! Grab her!' I saw what was going on.
There was this girl. She was trying to get away from these other girls. I didn't know what was going on.

“Down by the bridge, they just started punching her. There was a whole bunch of other girls—they didn't have anything to do with this. They were all like, ‘Oh my God. Oh my God.' I took them all up the hill and told them to just stay there so they didn't have to be involved. I told my girlfriend to stay where she was. My buddy Warren, he was down there. He was just looking and seeing what was going on. I went down and grabbed him. I said, ‘Don't worry about it, man. Don't get involved. It's not your fight.' They just kept beating on her. I don't even know what it was about. I'm pretty sure most of the girls didn't even have anything to do with it. They rolled her into the Gorge. Well, not into the Gorge, but onto a muddy patch. They took her smokes and her bag and went to the Comfort Inn. I heard they grabbed her Polo Sport and then chucked her bag into the Gorge, and then just left, just split up. Everyone just split up and went their own way. I left at that point. I took my girlfriend. I don't know where Warren went after. He left. I didn't know where he went.”

“Did you see this girl again after the beating?” a detective asked Dimitri.

“I did see her get up and start walking away. Over the bridge.”

•   •   •

In the cells, the girls stood in blue paper gowns, for their clothes had been taken away. Ink remained, darkening their fingerprints. They pressed their faces to the small glass panes, desperate to catch sight of their friends. They had been arrested for murder, and yet they had killed no one. “Willow,” Maya screamed, and she began to sob as she heard no answer from her childhood friend.

Mothers woke to their morning coffee; they fed their other, unarrested, children. Mothers read their newspapers and saw no story about the murder or a missing girl. Perhaps she had been found after all. Their daughters would be released. Their daughters would leave the cells and return to their bedrooms, messy with piles of jeans and jackets, fragrant with perfume, full of photographs and diaries and homework.
Please let the girl be found alive,
they prayed.

Lawyers arrived at the Saanich police department. The lawyers were all men, the men chosen to represent the girls. “The Shoreline Six,” the
girls who had been under the bridge would soon be called, as though they were renegade terrorists, a band of outlaws, rather than underage schoolgirls.

The lawyers advised the girls they would today go before the justice of the peace and most likely be remanded to custody until a formal arraignment before a judge on Monday. “Does that mean I'm going to jail?” Eve asked, and she pleaded with her lawyer—that she had never been in trouble and she surely had not killed a girl whose name she did not even know. The lawyers conferred among themselves. What were the cops up to? Arresting these girls for murder when they didn't even have a body! The lawyers returned to their Saturday activities. Laila's lawyer jammed with his band, playing Pearl Jam covers and songs by the Pixies. Dusty's lawyer polished his Harley; Kelly's lawyer planned his summer trip to the south of France.

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