‘Were you treated at home?’
‘Yes.’Of all the emotions coming in and out of Joe’s voice, anguish was the easiest one to detect.‘And because of that… because I was treated at home, my arms aren’t… quite right.’
‘Thank you for being honest, Joe.’ Hunter nodded at the phone, as his eyes moved down on the list. He knew that the faster he got through his questions, the better it was for everyone. ‘How about… cigarette burns? Did your father ever do that to you – burn you with the tip of a cigarette?’
Joe chuckled nervously again.‘Yeah… he did. How do you know all this?’he asked, clearly fighting back tears.‘How can you possibly know all this when no one else does?’
‘I don’t,’ Hunter replied, his tone calm and explanatory. ‘I’m just trying to eliminate actions from a list, Joe. And you’re doing great.’ He chose to be less specific with the next question.
‘With the cigarette burns – did your father target your hands, arms, feet, torso, legs… could you tell me?’
Hunter used a pen to indicate on the list. During the torture phase, Terry Wilford had suffered cigarette burns in between his toes.
‘Feet.’Joe’s reply was almost a whisper.‘He burned my feet a few times… between my toes… so that Mom wouldn’t see it.’
Captain Blake brought a hand to her mouth. ‘Fuck.’ The word was muffled by her palm.
Hunter shifted on his chair. He debated if he should ask just one more question, or stop right then. He decided that he would ask a final question, but he would keep it as general as he possibly could.
‘If it’s OK with you, Joe,’ he said, his eyes on the list. ‘I’d like to ask you just one last question, and I truly only need a “yes” or “no” answer. You don’t have to go into any details. Is that OK?’
‘Yeah.’Joe sounded almost out of breath, as if he’d just finished a hundred-meter dash.
Once again, Hunter used his pen to indicate on the list.
Garcia and Captain Blake craned their necks to have a look.
Dr. Hove and her student had identified that the perpetrator had used something like diluted toilet bleach or some kind of soft detergent as eye drops on Terry Wilford. Something that would’ve caused considerable pain but wouldn’t necessarily cause blindness.
‘Did your father ever hurt your eyes in any way? Any way whatsoever?’
Silence.
‘Just a ye—’ Hunter tried to remind Joe, but he cut him short.
‘Yes, he did.’Joe paused and Hunter had a feeling that it wasn’t a final pause. Joe was debating if he should say anything else or just leave it at that. He decided to clarify.‘He got real angry one night. I was eleven… twelve… I can’t fully remember, but after he beat me up, he held my head back, forced my eyes open, and dripped something into them that burned like fire. Pepper, alcohol, lime juice… I don’t know what it was. But I remember how much it burned.’
Hunter was done with the physical punishment questions. There was no need to go through the entire list, but he still needed to clear a couple of points.
‘When you were talking about your arms, Joe,’ Hunter carried on, ‘you said that you never told anyone what had really happened… never went to the hospital either. Did you ever tell anyone at all about any of it… at any time?’
‘About the beatings?’Joe asked.‘About his temper?’
‘Yes,’ Hunter confirmed. ‘Did anyone know? A friend? A teacher? Another member of the family? Anyone at all?’
‘My mom knew… at least about some of it, but… she loved my father. She would always forgive him, no matter how drunk or violent he got.’Joe paused, as if he was searching for the right words.‘You see, when my father was good, he was great, butwhen he was bad, it was like he was someone else… some angry, vicious monster out of control.’
‘Mood swings?’
Another nervous chuckle.‘Yeah, I guess you could say that. Super-violent one second, then remorseful the next.’
Hunter noted that down. ‘Was he also violent toward your mother?’
‘Yes. Sometimes, but not always. I got the bulk of it.’
‘Did anyone else other than your mom know? Any of her friends, maybe?’
A slightly hesitant pause.‘I can’t be sure, but I don’t think so. I never told anyone and I don’t think Mom did either. Neither of us had many friends. I wasn’t really allowed to play outside and my mom never went out without my father. He was also smart enough to hurt me mainly on my torso and legs. Parts always covered by clothes, so no one would see the bruises and start asking questions. My mom had to drop me off and pick me up from school every day. After some of the bad beatings, like the broken arms, I wouldn’t go to school for weeks. No after-school activities either, but…’Joe trailed off, as if lost in thought.
