Ellroy, James - Crim..

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Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html him tagged as an MDSO--a Mentally Disordered Sex Offender. His lawyer thought he could get him some state-hospital time. His lawyer miscalculated. The judge gave Polete the maximum sentence. Two terms prescribed by law--to run consecutively. The court transcript stated: "I think he is a serious menace to the people of this community and any other community that he would live in. I want to make sure that he doesn't get out for a long, long time." I went through the rest of the file. Polete was denied parole in '83, '92, '93, '94, and '96. Three to life. Two consecutive terms. Twenty years and four months inside. It was unknown why Polete was denied parole. Bill and I discussed it. Bill's take: Polete fucked up inside or was recognizably psycho and unable to con the parole board. He was locked down at CMC. He couldn't hurt women there. It wasn't enough. He was up for parole late in '98. The DNA prescreen flopped. They found blood on the victim's sweater and no semen on her panties. The next step: to examine the rest of the garments for semen. The result derailed Bill's plan of attack. He needed a verified semen stain. The lab could run it against Bill Scales's DNA. A negative hit would indicate unidentified ejaculate. Bill could take that result and get a search warrant. The warrant would empower him to extract a fluid sample from Robert Leroy Polete. We discussed options. Bill said it boiled down to a face-to-face talk. He would interview Polete. We went back to the file. We wanted to make sure we didn't overlook a single bit of data. We pulled odd note sheets and found new names to run. We got one positive hit. John Fentress rode bikes with Bill Scales. He joined the El Monte PD in '73. His wife knew BettyJean. We met him at the El Monte Station. I said, "Tell me about BettyJean." Fentress said she was talkative and mentally slow. She was totally in love with Bill Scales. Scales was the boss. Betty went along with the program. Betty struggled with her marriage. He doubted if Scales ever hit her. Bill and I went back to the file. We reviewed the physical evidence and hypothetically reconstructed the crime. Bloodstains on the truck seat. Small drips and spatters inconsistent with the victim's massive head Page 32
wounds. Hypothetical conclusion: Polete or the unknown assailant did not transport the body to the gravel pits. The seat would have been badly bloodstained if he drove the body any good distance. It all went down in the truck. He kidnapped her. He hijacked the truck. He drove her to the gravel pits. He assaulted her and killed her there and dumped her immediately. Hypothetically: She's nude. He raped her on the seat. He orders her out of the truck. She refuses. She thinks he intends to take her somewhere and kill her. He's standing outside the truck. He grabs the staple-bat. He tries to pull the victim out of the cab. She resists. She's facedown. He hits her on the back of the head and caves her skull in. He pulls her out of the cab. Her head brushes the seat back and passenger door and leaves stains. He throws her into the pit. A sound hypothesis. In sync with aspects of Polete's MO. Suitable for other unknown suspects. Bill called the prison. He arranged to interview Robert Leroy Polete. I felt the case veer toward a dead-end metaphysic. I knew that static level intimately. It defined my mother's case. Knowledge did not equal provability. Faulty memories spawned misinformation. Hypothetical renderings imposed logic on chaotic events and were rarely confirmed by firsthand accounts. Evidence was misplaced. Witnesses died. Their heirs revised and retold their stories inaccurately. Consensus of opinion seldom equaled truth. The passage of time and new perpetuations of horror deadened the reaction to old horror. Victims were defined as victims exclusively. I was able to deconstruct my mother's victimhood. I gathered an ambiguous array of facts and sifted them through reminiscence and my will to claim and know her. I had memories and personal perception to guide me. My witnesses supplied me with diverse testimonial lines. I was able to discredit or credit them from an informed perspective. I was able to establish the extent to which my mother's free will raged and smeared the ink on her own death warrant. Betty's death defied deconstruction. Her witnesses defined her unambiguously. I reluctantly bought their consensus. I wanted to accumulate odd bits of data and credit Betty with a bold streak or a secret mental life. I did not want to form her in my mother's image or remake her as anything but who she was. I only wanted proof that she'd lived more. I wanted it for her sake. The dead-end metaphysic blitzed my shot at my mother's killer. We never approached a live suspect. We had a live suspect now. We had knowledge and a shot at provability. 5 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Page 33
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Oscar kicked cold turkey. He played
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in the Hush-Hush style. I've got a
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current 45-RPM single, "Baby, It's
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Sinatra went knock-kneed and passed
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DA TO DROP PAYOLA PROBE. A dozen de
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libidinous Latins and lynch leftist
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stripped to strings by stray bullet
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Ellroy, James - Crim..

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