She verifies that the tape is picking them up clearly while Bailey says, "Damn right you better read me my rights. I know I got 'em, too."
"Yes, you most certainly do. Just so you know, you have the right to remain silent. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. Do you understand that?"
"Yeah, I understand."
"Okay," Frank continues. "So what we say here can be used in a court of law, and you can also have a lawyer here, if you want one. If you can't afford one, I'm not saying you can't, we can appoint one for you. You can talk to me if you want, but you don't have to," Frank reiterates in a rush. "Do you understand all this? I know we woke you up kinda early this morning and I don't always understand too much without my first cup of coffee. So I just want you to be clear that we can hang out here and wait for a lawyer if that's what you want."
On tape it will sound as if Frank's going out of her way to help Bailey, when in reality she's distracting him from the implications of being Mirandized.
"Shit, I don't want no lawyer, I just wanna get outta here."
"Me too," Frank sympathizes. Bailey's sister had mentioned that he hates Bakersfield, so she adds, "I don't know about you, but I'd like to get out of here and outta this town. Too much fuckin' dust and too many shitkickers."
The cop who's followed Frank in as a witness glares but remains mute. Frank grins at Bailey, broaching a rapport with him.
"Sorry about waking you up so early, but like I said, I just want to get this over with. So do you want to work this out? Just you and me? Do you want to give up the right to remain silent and talk this out without an attorney? Just you and me, one on one?"
Being a white cop, Frank is usually at a disadvantage when trying to gain a minority suspect's trust, but being a woman, plus a blonde, gives her a subliminal edge. Most men have enough pride to think they can con some dumb bitch, especially a blonde one. Bailey is no exception.
He nods.
"Is that a yes? You want to talk to me?"
"Yeah, I'll talk," he grumbles. "I got things to do."
As she slides him the waiver and a pen, she distracts him by asking, "Do you want to know what I was looking for in your camper?"
"I ain't took nothin' so how would I know?"
"I admire your confidence." Frank smiles. She opens a folder and leafs through it, waiting Bailey out.
"What you think I took?"
"Hmm?" She glances at Bailey.
"What'd you think I took? What was you lookin' for?"
"Pair of panties, Mr. Bailey."
"Panties?"
"Yeah. From a little girl."
Bailey laughs. "You think I stole a little girl's panties?"
"Stranger things have happened."
Bailey laughs again and wiggles in his chair, like a dog shaking water. Frank smiles. She asks simple questions. Where was he last night? Where'd he been before that? Can he produce witnesses to verify this? She lets him tell the truth. Lets him get comfortable.
Then she pushes a picture of a young girl across the table. The girl is naked on her back. She's slit all over, like a leg of lamb ready to be studded with garlic cloves.
Bailey winces and pushes his chair back.
"Found her a while back," Frank tells him. "Her clothes were folded right next to her. Real tidy. Everything was there except her panties. We know she was wearing them because she'd complained to her mother they were her last clean pair."
When Frank pauses, Bailey asks, "Why you showin' me this?"
"Why do you think?"
"You think I got somethin' to do with this?"
"Do you?"
"Hell, no!"
Frank knows he doesn't, but she wants him thinking she does. One of the last gifts a cop has is legal wherewithal to lie to a suspect. They can't physically coerce a perp into a confession but they can still mentally fuck them silly. Her plan is to get Bailey thinking he's wanted for various murders. If she can get him sweating about that, it might make him willing to cooperate, to admit to a lesser crime like rape.
She hands him a similar picture. Another dead girl, her intestines popped out of the gash in her belly. "Recognize her?"
"I ain't never seen her before."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. Girl, why you wasting my time with this shit?"
Sliding a picture of Ladeenia Pryce toward him, Frank asks, "How about this one, Antoine? We never found her panties, either."
Bailey stares hard, for just a second, then says, "I ain't never seen her neither."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Frank nods. She hands him a picture of the Pryce site. "Ever seen this place before?"
Bailey barely glances at the picture before answering, "No."
Frank makes a loud buzzing noise and slaps the table. "Antoine, you done set my bullshit meter off! Come on, man. You gotta level with me here. Don't," she stresses slowly, "fuck with me. Or I'll fuck you back. Is that what you want?"
Antoine turns his head away.
Frank repeats, "Is that what you want?"
"No," he mumbles.
Sliding the scene photo under his face again, she tells him, "All right. Then I'ma get straight with you too." Frank taps the picture. "I got witnesses telling me you were here when they found these kids. I got your sister Sharon on tape, saying you and her stopped by here to see what was going on. I know you were there, Antoine. So let's start over. I'ma reset my bullshit meter, and you're gonna tell me the truth this time. Have you ever seen this place?"
Bailey checks out the photo. "I guess. Maybe. But it was a long time ago. I didn't recognize it, s'all."
"So were you there the day these kids were found?" Frank deals another photo from the deck. Trevor and Ladeenia smiling together, hugging a teddy bear.
"I guess." Antoine pouts.
"Good. What were you doing in the area?"
"I was at my sister's. Collecting my check like I do every month."
"Okay."
Frank leads him through the day and the day prior. Bailey stays close to the alibi he and Ferris built for Noah. He trips on a couple key details but doesn't notice. Frank leads him on, building his confidence, letting him reinforce his errors.
Suddenly she turns in her chair and faces him head on. "What if I told you this is all a pack of lies, Antoine? Everything you been telling me so far, it's all lies. You dumped so much shit on my bullshit meter you broke it."
"Nah, it's all true. Ask Sharon. She'll tell you."
"I did ask Sharon." Frank pulls Ferris's statement. She lays it on the table where Antoine can read it. "She told me a different story, Antoine. Said you and she had a big fight that day."
"No, that ain't true. We ain't never fought."
"Never?"
"Nah, never."
"How about when Kevin kicked you outta the house back in 'ninety-two? Or that time a couple years ago when you borrowed his car without asking? How about the night before these kids were found, when your sister asked you to leave?"
"She didn't ask me to leave. It was Kevin askin' me. He always the one. He jealous is all. My sister loves me. She ain't never said nothin' bad about me."
"She's tired of covering for you, Antoine." Frank pats the statement. "It's all here. The fight. How you stayed in your truck all day. How you left the next morning. All here. She ain't backing you this time. She's tired, Antoine. Tired a watching after her baby brother."
"That ain't true."
"Yeah, it is. You know it is. Go easy on yourself. Tell me what really happened that day. Sharon already has, so you got nothing to lose. If you come clean now, this won't come down on you so hard."
"What won't come down on me?"
"Antoine," Frank croons. "We know those kids were in your camper with you. We know how you took 'em, front and back, doggy style." Still seductive, she alludes to evidence they don't have. "Got sperm all over 'em, man. You know about DNA."