Case No. 89-CR-31003
First Assistant County Attorney Paul Riley placed the tape in the cassette and hit PLAY, reading along with the lyrics, which had been printed on poster board and left in one of the designated war rooms for the Burgos case. Tyler Skye, the lead singer of Torcher, screamed, over angry guitar chords, what he called the second verse of the song “Someone”:
Both the guitar and percussion kicked up after this introduction, as Tyler Skye’s voice erupted, spitting out a litany of violent lyrics faster than the human ear could follow:
The second verse ended in suicide, just like the first verse-the
They had caught him before he could get to the second verse.
Joel Lightner walked in while Riley sat against a long table, staring at the lyrics on the board and listening to the music. Lightner raised his eyebrows to indicate his opinion of the lyrics. They were not different, in any meaningful way, from the first verse. They listened, together, to the refrain, which was a slight variation on the refrain following the first verse:
The music, already loud and vicious, exploded with a heavy percussion line, guitars blaring, as Tyler Skye completed his final rhyme, screaming it ferociously:
Riley killed the cassette player. They didn’t speak for a long time.
“We’re absolutely positive there’s not a second burial site,” Riley said.
Lightner made an equivocal grunt. They’d used the county dogs and covered the entire Mansbury campus. They’d searched every inch of Terry Burgos’s house, excavating his garage and basement, digging up his yard. They’d looked everywhere and come up empty. “There’s no reason to think so,” Lightner said. “The murder weapons were totally clean. The machete was still in its wrapping. And I think ol’ Terry would tell us if there was another site. He’s not exactly shy about this.”
That much was true. Burgos had not been shy with the psychiatrists, who had begun to examine him after Burgos pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity two weeks earlier. He’d gone into great detail, not on how he committed the murders but why. He’d recounted the biblical verses and Tyler Skye’s lyrics, and the sins committed by the victims that made them worthy of his wrath.
“So,” Lightner said, “we’re officially down to five kills now.”
Last Friday, August 11, Riley informed the court that the prosecution was dropping the charges on the murder of Cassandra Bentley. Within about five seconds of the words leaving his mouth, simultaneous press releases came from the offices of the county attorney and the Bentley family. It was the Bentleys’ express wish that their daughter not be subjected to the cruel innuendo that would accompany this insanity defense, their accusations of promiscuity and whatever else a “desperate defendant” might try to say. It was enough, the Bentleys’ press release said, that Burgos was now conceding that he had killed Cassie, and that he would be prosecuted for the other five murders.
Riley forgot about it the moment he left the courtroom. It didn’t matter anymore. It was all about the insanity defense now. Burgos would have to demonstrate that he was suffering from a mental defect and that he was unable to appreciate the criminality of his actions. So it was now the prosecution’s job to prove the opposite-that Burgos was
Burgos had a decent argument on mental defect. He’d been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic for several years. And he had the easy, commonsense argument, too. How could someone who did this
The second prong of the insanity test was another story. Burgos would have to establish that he did not appreciate that he was committing a crime when he murdered those girls. Appreciation of criminality was less about shrinks and more about facts. So the task force focused on gathering such evidence, and things were already looking hopeful on that score. Burgos had killed the girls during the short break between the end of the spring term and summer school, knowing that no one would be checking the basement of Bramhall Auditorium during that time period. And he’d picked prostitutes from different parts of the city, so that he’d never have to show his face back in the same neighborhood while he continued on his murderous spree. All of these actions were indicative of a man who knew he was breaking the law and didn’t want to be stopped-a man who was not legally insane.
Lightner moved in for a closer look at Riley. “You eaten anything today, sweetheart?”
Riley waved him off, but his wife had made the same comment. Riley had dropped about six pounds in the last three weeks. Food was the last thing on his mind. This prosecution would be the biggest thing he’d ever do as a lawyer, and on top of that, he was trying to oversee one of the largest prosecutorial offices in the country.
“Let’s get a greasy cheeseburger at Baby‘s,” Lightner suggested.
Riley glanced at the clock. It was past one o‘clock. He’d been in the office since seven and hadn’t eaten a thing. He walked with Lightner back to his office for his suit jacket and found his secretary, Betty, placing the mail on his chair.
“More fan mail,” Betty said when she saw them.
The cops and prosecutors had received all kinds of weird mail about the Old Testament and wrath of God stuff since they began to prosecute Burgos. Almost none of the correspondence actually favored what Burgos had done, but many letters warned “sinners” of the consequences of their actions.
“This one, I thought, was especially weird,” Betty said.
Riley took the letter and, along with Lightner, read it:
