112. Interview with Catherine D’Amico: Part 18
28 June 2011
– No, I don’t think it was suicide.
– I know it wasn’t, I don’t care what they say [Ms. D’Amico pauses then sighs] I don’t know why I cared so much. About the investigation, I mean, not Tony. He was already dead, nothing I could do about it then. But I went to the police station anyways, on the verge of hysteria, and asked—demanded—to speak to whoever was assigned to Tony’s—Les’s—case.
– They sent me to Detective Fletcher’s office, and he looked at me so—bored. Like the moment I saw him I knew he wasn’t going to help me or listen to me or believe anything I had to say about Earl.
– I explained to him who I was, ended up having to tell him that I was pregnant with Tony’s—Les’s—baby just to get his attention. First person I’d told besides Tony himself, and even then Fletcher still didn’t give a shit. Didn’t know me from Jane Doe, and I knew it was pointless but before I could stop myself I’m spewing all this stuff about Les already having everything so hard and he was just coming out of it and this is ridiculous, that they’re not even investigating. Then I just blurted it out, that he didn’t kill himself.
– I don’t know. He didn’t believe me. He’d already made his decision, I could tell, I could see it in his eyes. God. And I couldn’t have looked like a very credible witness, with my nose running and my eyes all red and puffy and smeared makeup and all.
– “Really?” That’s what he said to me. “Really?” In this mocking tone, then “If he didn’t, then who did?”
– I wanted to tell him Earl did it. I wanted to tell him everything actually. But right then I saw how he was looking at me, expectantly, but in a scornful way, like he was waiting for me to tell him a stupid joke, so he could patronize me. And I knew then this man didn’t have Tony’s best intentions in mind. Then I thought about how I’d be betraying Tony anyways if I told this man anything. I had sworn to Tony I wouldn’t tell anybody about his situation and—I don’t know. He had just died, and it hadn’t really hit me yet that he was gone.
– In my mind, he was still sitting in his motel room, painting, or maybe working on somebody’s house or something.
– I couldn’t tell anybody what he’d been through. That would be admission that my promise to him didn’t matter anymore, which would have been admission of a lot of other things I didn’t want to deal with.
– So I told Detective Fletcher I didn’t know who killed Les Palmer. I just know he didn’t kill himself. He got kind of suspicious at that, at my hesitation I guess, asked me if I had any evidence, at which point I got kind of frustrated because I knew where this was going.
– You see it happen all the time in movies and on TV: the cop asks if the person has any evidence and the person always says no and then the police say come back when you have something concrete, which the witness usually goes out and gets at some point, on their own, almost getting killed in the process, which is the whole point of the film. This wasn’t a movie though, and I knew it would dead end in that detective’s office.
– I mean, it’s cliché, I know, but I allowed myself a little bit of hope anyways. No point to it, but I still told Detective Fletcher that I didn’t need evidence, I was just absolutely sure Tony—Les—did not kill himself. He just needed to investigate it.
– He sighed, ran a hand over his head and told me to come back when I had something concrete.
– Another cliché, I guess. Everybody knows there’s no point in screaming at detectives once they say something like that, all they’ll do is have you kicked out. But I did it anyways.
Who Is Anthony Stephens? 
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