Jane Doe No More (24 page)

John, Donna, and Maureen discussed Martinez among themselves for a moment.

“We’d like you to hold off on bringing Jeff back in,” Donna said, “until the DNA results come back from Washington.”

Leaving, Neil said he and Kathy Wilson wanted to meet John and Donna at John’s mother’s house so they could interview her (John’s father had passed away in 1989). For the first time in the investigation, eight months (to the day) after the attack, Neil brought up the missing key John’s mother had talked about just days after the attack. Neil was particularly interested in this key. If Mrs. Palomba’s story of the key was true and that key went missing before Donna’s attack, it meant there had been a way into Donna’s house floating around in the world on the night of her attack. This could be significant. It could potentially fit into the theme Neil seemed to be focusing on: people close to Donna and John who knew their schedules, knew a bit about their lives, or had access to their home.

Before they left the WPD, Neil asked Donna about a particular relative. “Does [this person] have a grudge against you?”

Donna was shocked to hear the name, especially in the context of her case and if this person had an ax to grind. “What? Not that I know of.”

It was 5:15 p.m. when Neil and Kathy arrived at Donna’s mother-in-law’s house. For the first time in the now nearly year-old investigation, Donna’s mother-in-law sat down for an interview with the police.

Donna listened as Mrs. Palomba was questioned about the missing key and the particular family member. She had no idea why they were focusing on this person.

“She’s a nice person who wouldn’t harm a soul,” Mrs. Palomba explained, referring to the relative. “She’s often confused and on medication.”

Neil and Kathy shared a glance. Medication?

What they weren’t telling Donna, or anyone else, was that this family member was supposedly the person behind that rumor convincing the Moran brothers that Donna’s story was “full of holes.” This person had told the confidential source’s mother about “the affair” and the kids waking up and catching Donna in the act of adultery.

Donna was bewildered by these questions.

The missing key was troubling. I could picture it hanging on a wood plaque with a row of hooks in the back entryway to the kitchen inside my mother-in-law’s house. I could see it in my mind as they talked about it. There was a small white label on the face of the key with the word “John” written in my mother-in-law’s handwriting.

John’s family home was the gathering place at holidays. The house was a traditional two-story colonial with a large living room and a big fireplace that was always roaring on Christmas Eve. The smell of a wood fire and music filling the air were festive and nostalgic. The front foyer was large, and there was a stereo cabinet. John and his family were music buffs and my mother-in-law loved musicals, so there was always some type of music playing. The foyer turned into a dance floor when our kids were little. They were the first grandchildren, and everyone would line up waiting for their turn to dance with them. An abundance of love and warmth filled the air.

Now, suddenly, as I sat there listening to Neil and Kathy Wilson question my mother-in-law, this magical house with its so many wonderful memories was the center of the case. Could someone have taken the key? People were in and out all the time. Sure, someone could have taken it, but who?

I understood the significance of the key and why they were asking about it. As far as that relative they talked about was concerned, we really didn’t see her that often. She was a gentle woman, and I remember her sending me a novena card in the mail after the incident. She was quite religious, and I thought it was a nice gesture. I relayed this to Neil and Kathy Wilson.

There was no reason to believe that she held any type of grudge against John or me—so that question Neil posed, as he could not divulge why at that time, had me asking myself more questions.

The following day, Kathy Wilson called Donna.

“Inspector Griffin wanted to know a little bit more about that oil leak in your home, Donna.”

There had been an oil leak in the basement of Donna’s house at the time of the incident. Griffin thought that maybe when they had the oil tank serviced, the serviceman might have gotten the idea to return, after possibly hearing Donna talk on the phone or to John about him leaving.

“We had the tank serviced, removed, and replaced, actually, a few days after the assault.”

“Yeah, I suspected as much,” Wilson said, “and don’t think it has anything to do with the case, but Griffin wanted me to call anyway.”

A day or so after this particular call, John attended a stag party in town. This was one of the problems with knowing everyone from the neighborhood: You got invited to everything. There were lots of people from the old neighborhood at the stag, including several cops John knew, and even a few who had worked on Donna’s case. As John stood in line for food, Detective Lou Cote walked up and shook his hand.

“John . . . how’s Donna doing? I am so sorry about what happened to her.”

“She’s good,” John said. He could tell Lou was sincere. He had a look in his eyes that John responded to. “Look, Lou, I know you were trying to do a good job. We have a lot of respect for you and have told everyone that you are a good guy.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“We know that you had nothing to do with what happened.”

“All I can tell you, John, is that they [the Morans] are a couple of fucking assholes!”

John appreciated Cote’s candor and honesty.

Another police officer walked up to John after that and said, “If there’s ever a trial and I am called, I would nail the Morans, John.”

The tide was turning, indeed. John Palomba could feel it.

There is probably no other job within law enforcement hated more by officers than that of the Internal Affairs investigator. His or her job is to investigate wrongdoing by his or her colleagues, complaints against the department, and other uncomfortable situations that officers find themselves in throughout their working days. Cops, like firefighters and even nurses, often live by a code of silence and vow not to talk about one another’s shortcomings, guilt, or innocence. If there was ever a case, however, when IA investigators were needed, it was Donna’s. What Donna claimed to have gone through at the hands of two high-ranking officers within the WPD was nothing short of bullying and revictimization. These two cops, both of whom had decades of law enforcement experience between them, had viewed Donna as a liar from the moment she called 911—and nobody had a good reason why she was singled out like this and attacked in such an unprofessional, caustic manner.

The two IA officers assigned to look into whether there had been a conspiracy between the Moran brothers to go after Donna and John met with the Palombas at Maureen Norris’s office on May 18, 1994.

“We’re taking the case slowly,” one of them explained. “We’ll be speaking with all of the officers involved, and if you know any of them, please tell them to talk to us and help us to shed more light on what happened here.”

“I saw Lou Cote the other night at a stag,” John said, explaining what was said. “Lou apologized for what happened.”

The meeting was short, more of a formal way to announce that steps were being taken to get to the bottom of what Donna was calling harassment by the department, which had allowed her assailant to remain free and possibly continue to sexually assault other women—a fact that was easy to forget.

On his way out, one of the IA investigators said, “To request a copy of the IA report, just file a Freedom of Information request.”

Donna wrote that down in her notes. Maureen said not to worry about it. Of course she was going to do that.

That report, in fact, would steer Donna and Maureen onto the road they would travel next. If the IA investigators did their jobs without bias, a true IA investigation would dig out wrongdoing. It was about justice at this point. The more Donna thought about it, the more she wondered how many other women the Moran brothers had done this to. How many more women would have to endure the trauma she had experienced if she did not stand up and fight?

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Guilt by Omission

Douglas Moran wasted little time in volunteering to help with the IA investigation any way he could, although “help” is probably not the correct way to characterize what the lieutenant did next. Although Donna and Maureen would have no idea what Moran (or anyone else IA investigated) wrote until years later, on May 18, 1994, he sat down and, in his own words, “took the liberty of preparing” a statement of what transpired “in anticipation of your [IA’s] request for one.” The entire document, which he addressed to the lieutenant in charge of the IA investigation, amounted to a strangely detailed, twelve-page report of the case from Doug Moran’s perspective. This statement would be Moran’s direct response to the affidavit Maureen had prepared in order to initiate the IA investigation.

She said—and now
he
said.

At best, one could say Moran’s document was littered with exaggerations; at worst, untruths. For example, Moran wrote that according to Donna’s narrative of what transpired on the night of her attack, her attacker had “threatened” her “with a gun.”

This was a true statement on Donna’s part. She
believed
her assailant had placed the barrel of a pistol to her lips and to her temple.