Murdered Innocents (19 page)

“I guess it’s possible,” Springsteen replied rather arrogantly. “Anything’s possible.”

“Is it possible that you were present there while this took place?”

“No.”

“You just told me anything’s possible,” Lara retorted as he hovered about twelve inches from Springsteen’s face.

“It is possible.”

“Is it possible that you were there?” Lara asked again. “Is it possible that you killed one or two or more of those girls?”

“It could be.”

“Is it possible that you were involved in the planning?”

“Yes.”

“Maurice and you were casing?”

“I guess it’s possible. Yes.”

“What would not be possible?”

“I guess nothing.”

“Is it likely you were involved in the murders?”

“It is not likely.”

“You’re not even upset that someone implicated you in this,” Lara said. “You’re sitting here thinking very hard.” At that same moment, another man entered the interview room.

“This is Special Agent Meyer,” Lara informed Springsteen.

After some discussion with Chuck Meyer, Springsteen said, “I’ve gone as far as I can go. What are our options now?”

Neither officer responded to his query.

“My wife has really changed me.” Springsteen broke the silence. “I guess she’s made me become more of a man. She repossesses people’s houses. Her and my mom were best friends. Her ex-husband went to prison.”

Meyer sat in front of Springsteen, off to his right side. Merrill returned to the room and sat in a chair located by the door. The men had Springsteen somewhat cornered. Springsteen seemed unfazed as he calmly smoked his cigarette, with his head tilted to the left.

“We know you were at the yogurt shop,” Meyer informed Springsteen.

“Prove it,” he replied as he looked Meyer in the eye.

“We have.”

“Then I need to go into recursive psychotherapy or be hypnotized or something.”

“Well, if I knew what that was, I’d get you some of that.” This remark made Springsteen and Merrill laugh.

“Judging by all these statements, you’re the key,” Meyer suggested. “And I don’t think you are. But you may be. You’re the only one that can straighten it up. We’ve got, like, four people that know you were there.”

“I don’t specifically remember going into the yogurt shop,” Springsteen responded. “It’s possible that I may have went in. We can sit here for ten hours having this same conversation.”

Springsteen began to provide more details. He claimed he sat in the backseat of Pierce’s dad’s car because Pierce and Welborn were “buddy-buddy.” He described Pierce’s dad as “kind of weird. I thought he was mean. Not really strict. But like mean and gruff and kind of maybe abusive or violent. I didn’t associate with his dad or go over to his house.

“I don’t know if I was in the yogurt shop or not. I don’t think I was.”

“Are you sure, because every now and then I see a little tear in your eye,” Merrill stated. “A little tear.”

Springsteen quietly shook his head no.

“You remember exactly what happened in there. You’re trying to search for a way out of this, and right now, there ain’t none.”

“Then what’s our options?” Springsteen looked exasperated. “That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. If I was there and I partook in this, I would remember these things.” His voice rose in volume as he spoke.

“And do you remember these things?”

“No, I don’t. No, I don’t.”

“You’re the coldest guy I’ve talked to in my life,” Merrill told him. “Are you a cold-blooded murderer?”

“No, sir. I’m not.”

“I think you are. I think Maurice is absolutely true about you. You’re the coldest guy I’ve ever talked to.”

“Then let’s take whatever actions we need to take.”

“We don’t want to go there.”

“Maybe it’s possible that I was there. Maybe, whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Obviously, you guys have got some maturity or something that I do not have.”

“It’s not a crystal ball, it’s just the facts,” Meyer reminded him.

“Then you guys’ facts are wrong. Because I know in my heart and in my head that I had nothing to do with that. I was not in the yogurt shop. I can guarantee you that.”

“How can you guarantee me that?”

“I can’t. Never mind.” Springsteen lowered his head into his hands and rolled his eyes. He sat in his chair for several minutes before he spoke again. He tried to recall any memories from that night.

“I still keep coming up with the same thing. I’m not really remembering anything. It’s kind of like little fragments. I’m trying to piece it together is what I’m trying to do.”

He called Pierce “a big bullshitter. He talked about stealing cars or tires. Like B and E. Break into somebody’s house and take their stuff and pawn it. I never perceived Maurice or myself or Mike or any of us as violent people.”

“It would be a total shock to you, had something violent happened that night, wouldn’t it?” Merrill asked.

“Yes, it would have.”

“And you would be just as much a victim as anybody else. Because that’s not what you thought about.”

“True.”

Springsteen spoke of the robbery plans hatched by Pierce. “I’m not going to say no anymore, because you guys have a really compelling case and I’m starting to remember a few things, here and there.”

“If you haven’t figured it out, Maurice blames you,” Merrill told him.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“But we don’t believe him. But we’ve got to hear it from you. I don’t think you walked into that door expecting anything of what happened.”

“No. As a matter of fact, I think I got the hell out of there. To tell you the truth about the fact of the matter, come to think of it.” It was the first time Springsteen admitted being inside the yogurt shop. He sat calmly as he said it.

“Got in the car, parked, got out of the car, went inside, went to the bathroom, come back out, Maurice is at the counter, I was walking out. I mean, I was like headed out of the shop anyway. Out the door. Heard somebody scream. I turned around. And all hell just broke loose.

“Maurice standing there with a gun in his hand. He said, ‘Give me the fucking money or I’ll fucking kill all of you,’ or some dumbass shit like that. I said, ‘Man, this shit is getting fucking deep,’ or ‘I’m fucking out of here,’ or ‘I don’t want nothing to do with this.’

“Maurice was at the counter. I don’t think Forrest was close to him. I think maybe he was inside, kind of a couple a feet away from me. Another five or ten feet past that was the counter, where Maurice was at. And I don’t remember where Mike was. I was basically like ‘I don’t fucking believe this. I don’t want no part of this.’ And I left. I went out of the store.”

Springsteen relayed that the girls were “freaking out.” He added, “That is the closest to a cluster fuck I had ever seen. I guess I was a coward and I got the hell out.”

He spoke about weapons. “I like guns, I like collecting guns. It’s not a toy.”

Springsteen returned to talking about the murders. “I don’t remember if Mike was inside with us or not. There was just so much going on. I went outside. I stood by the car.”

Springsteen said he was surprised by Pierce’s actions. “This guy who’s supposed to be my friend standing there with a damn gun. Done fired a round. I don’t know whether anybody had been hit. ‘This is crazy. This is fucking bullshit. Fuck you, guys.’ There were more gunshots. They were muffled. I believe I heard five. I was thinking, ‘I’ve got to get the hell out of here. This is not a good place for me to be. I need to get as far as hell away from here as I can.’”

Springsteen said Scott was right behind him. “‘What are we gonna do? Maurice is fucking crazy.’ Scott said, ‘Damn straight. He’s a fucking lunatic.’

“Maurice said he just scared them. Me and him almost got into it. But I didn’t want to be shot.”

Springsteen talked about disposing the gun. “There was a bridge by a river behind the yogurt shop. Threw the damn gun in the stream. A little bridge.”

“Did Mike get out?” Merrill asked.

“I think so.”

“What did he do?”

“I think he threw up. I think I threw up too.”

“That’s called the ‘Oh Shit’ factor,” Merrill informed Springsteen.

“We drove back to the yogurt shop and [we saw] all the police and ambulances. Then we left immediately.”

“Do you feel better?” Merrill asked.

“Thank you, guys.” Springsteen nodded in compliance. “Yeah, I really do. You guys really helped me get past that.”

“I guarantee you, tonight you’ll sleep better than you ever slept in your life. This has to be eight years of hell for what you saw.”

“I feel kind of bad. But you know—”

“Sure you feel bad. You were involved in something that was terrible.”

“I really wasn’t. I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t want that.”

Lara returned to the interview room.

“We had a little breakthrough, Ron,” Merrill told his fellow officer.

“At times, I don’t recall,” Springsteen continued. “It was such a cluster fuck.”

The three men took a break.

The three men returned to the interview room. Springsteen began to recall specifics of the crime. He stated that he came through the front door. He also claimed he never saw Pierce shoot anyone.

“You know, when it come down to, I guess, telling time for me, I was out the door.”

“You told time,” Lara replied.

“Yeah. I wasn’t running to beat all hell, but I was going at a decent rate.”

“When you were going out the door, did you remember grass?”

“I did. Within fifteen or twenty yards.”

“Do you remember going in the back?” Merrill asked.

“I think, I don’t know.”

“When you came out of the bathroom, what did you see? Did Maurice tell you what to do before you went in?”

“I think he said something about, seeing what’s in the back, going in to the back, stay in the back.”

“Did this bother you? Did you lay in bed at night thinking about that shot? Do you ever lay in bed thinking about what happened to you and Mike? Did you ever cry for those girls?” Merrill quietly questioned.

“I cried a lot.” Springsteen repeatedly nodded his head. I need to get over this,” he continued. “I’m trying. It was so catastrophic that day. He was mad at me, yelling and everything, nothing about nothing. I know I was in the yogurt shop, but I don’t remember all the details. Everything is so fast. I feel like I’m losing reality here.”

“When you came out of the bathroom, did you see a door?” Merrill prodded.

“That would be the back door. At some point in time, we had come through and opened up the back door so we had a way to get in. I put a pack of cigarettes—I mean, like, an empty pack of cigarettes, folded up, down there to keep it from shutting all the way, down at the bottom.

“I guess I accomplished my part of the mission.”

Afterward, they sat outside the movie theater for forty-five minutes to an hour before they returned to rob the yogurt shop.

“Mike was the lookout. Maurice was the man of action: ‘Get the money, get the money.’”

“When you went back the last time,” Merrill asked, “how did you get in?”

“The back door.”

“Who was at the front door.”

“Mike.” Springsteen did not remember if Welborn went in.

“Were you issuing orders?”

“No, sir.”

“Who was issuing orders?”

“Maurice.”

Springsteen claimed he was in the back of the restaurant. He heard a shot and walked up to the front. He changed his story and said he saw a girl get shot. He noticed the other girls were screaming and crying.

“What was happening to those girls before they were shot?”

“He was messing with them. I think that Maurice and Forrest just started attacking this chick. Like trying to get her clothes off her, just going crazy.”

“Did her clothes come off?”

“I remember her shirt coming off.”

“What else came off?”

“They started to pull, trying to pull her pants down, but her shoes, they were messing around this area. I think he said, ‘Come over here. Fuck her. Screw her,’ something like that, but I said, ‘No, man, I don’t want to do this.’”

Springsteen said that Pierce pistol-whipped one of the girls. He claimed Pierce told Springsteen to hold one of the girls.

“Hold them for what?” Lara asked.

“So he could rape them, like ‘Get the hell over here and hold them down.’

“He wanted me to kill a girl. I was like, ‘No way, man, I can’t do it.’ He wanted me to shoot her in the back of the head.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me now,” Merrill piped in.

“I didn’t do it.”

“Did Mike?”

“No.”

“Who killed these girls?” Lara asked.