Behind-The-Scenes Look at a Real Murder Interrogation
I have a special treat for you today. Danny R. Smith spent 21 years with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, the last seven as a homicide detective, and he’s here to give us a behind-the-scenes look at a real murder interrogation. The following is the true account of a suspect he sweated in the box interrogated — eloquently, I might add — in connection with a grisly crime. Crime writers can learn a lot from this one post. Crime readers will also find it fascinating. After Danny retired from the force, he turned to his love of the written word, and boy, can he write! Enjoy. I’ll catch you on the flip-side.
Hell found me. It seeped into my skin and flowed through my veins as I held the hand of a killer.
The Interview
“You’re not a bad girl, Sandra,” I told her, staring into the hollow eyes that shifted from me to the floor.
I saw no remorse, no emotion. She seemed to be thinking, plotting a way out.
“This thing was out of your control,” I continued.
“Yeah?” she said, her voice lilting with the possibility.
“But, you know, Sandra, I’ve been doing this for a long time. I’ve investigated a lot of murders, talked to plenty of killers. I know when someone’s being deceitful.”
“What’s that?”
“Lying to me. Lying about your involvement, your knowledge. You know more than you’re telling me. You need to start telling the truth.”
“I’m trying—”
“You have to do better than try, Sandra. I want to hear your side of the story. You’d be wise to give it to me before someone else cuts a deal.”
“I don’t know anything.”
A Fresh Start
I held my hand up to stop her when the tape recorder clicked off. I inserted the third, ninety-minute cassette, figuring if it didn’t come soon, it wouldn’t come at all; confessions of murder never came easy.
“We’ll forget everything you’ve said until now,” I told her, “and I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”
“What’s that?”
“One of the boys has given us a statement. He gave the whole thing up. I don’t need your statement, but I think you have something to say. I don’t think you’re the monster he made you out to be.”
Her brows crowded her eyes. “Who? . . . Not Ricky?”
“I can’t say.”
“Whoever . . . he’s lying. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with what happened to my boyfriend.”
“I think you did.”
“No.”
“Sandra?”
Hiding behind stringy blonde hair covering her face, she seemed to be focused on her shoes. “What?”
“You’re making it worse with the lies.”
Without looking up, she shook her head. “I’m not lying.”
“You’re not telling me the truth. I can prove you made the call, sent your boyfriend to pick up your son.”
“I had no idea . . . I didn’t think they’d kill him,” she said. She let out a heavy sigh, followed with the stench of cigarette breath.
It was a Heinous Crime
She was the one who had set it up; I knew this from the confession of a co-conspirator. She needed the money for drugs and wanted her pain-in-the-ass, straight-laced boyfriend out of her face. She planned the robbery, told her kid to get the ATM card from his wallet, she knew the code. She called her boyfriend just before midnight when he was due to get off work and asked him to give her son a ride. She told him to pick the boy up at Brian’s, the trailer court out on Desert View Drive.
Sandra’s son, a sixteen-year-old skinhead recently released from juvenile hall, had waited with two other thugs and jumped the man when he arrived. They beat him, tossed him in the trunk, and took him out to the desert where they finished the job.
You didn’t know they’d kill him? What the hell would you say to him the next morning over breakfast? Sorry my son beat and robbed you last night? You ought to see a doctor for that head?
“I’m sure you didn’t know they’d kill him, Sandra,” I told her, “you’re too good a person to be a part of that.”
She lifted her slouched shoulders, pushed her chest out and sucked in her stomach. “I am.”
“You have a lot going for you.”
She tugged at the collar of her shirt and ran a finger down the center of her chest. Her eyes softened as she raised her brows. “I do.”
“You didn’t need this shit, these youngsters out of control.”
“That’s what it was.”
“But you set up the robbery, Sandra . . . we can prove it.”
It was all we needed. Prove her knowledge and involvement in the planning of the robbery, and she goes down for murder. The conspiracy makes her culpable regardless of whether she was there.
She looked down and away, forced the sounds of crying, then looked back. Her eyes were dry. “What’s going to happen to me? You know, if I knew they were going to rob him, but that’s all?”
She was on the Hook
“I’m not going to lie to you.” I was lying my ass off. “You’re going to do some time.” Like twenty years while you’re awaiting death penalty appeals.
“I didn’t want him to get hurt.”
“Of course you didn’t,” I told her. “You really got wrapped up in a bad deal. It was beyond your control.”
You’re an evil, conniving bitch and I only hope you’re stupid enough to keep talking.
I stroked her forearm with my hand. It repulsed me to do so, but a simple touch can destroy barriers.
“You didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“No, I didn’t. What about Ricky? What’s going to happen to him?”
“Your boy’s no damn good, Sandra . . . you know that. It’s not your fault, the way he turned out. You wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him. Write him off, he’s going down hard for this.”
“Yeah?”
I put my hand over hers. It was large, like a man’s, damp with perspiration. “He deserves what he gets, Sandra. Steven didn’t deserve to die like this. He was a good man, worked hard to make it, never hurt a soul.”
I detected the first hint of real emotion. She knew it was true; Steven was a good man. A Native American who didn’t deserve to be beaten and burned to death in the trunk of his car. She knew it too, possibly even regretted it. Maybe she only regretted being caught, or perhaps she regretted not planning it better. The few hundred dollars they pulled from several ATM’s after the murder was likely not worth it, in retrospect.
Time to give it Up
I placed a second hand on hers and said, “I know you took the gas out to the boys.”
Her expression meant to express shock. “I did what?”
“You took the gas. Ricky called you, the cell phone records show it. You drove out to the desert, brought the gas with you.”
“No—”
“We have surveillance video from the gas station,” I said, hoping to God she bought the gas that night. Hoping the bluff wouldn’t backfire. Once they catch a bluff, the momentum turns.
“Video?” she said, her bloodshot eyes darting side to side, recalling the night. I wondered if she was seeing the gas station in her mind.
I pushed it. “You’re on tape, buying the gas.”
“Ricky said they needed gas.”
“Like they ran out?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“So, you bought some gas.”
“Yeah.”
“You put it in the gas can I found in your car?”
“Yeah.”
“Took it out to them?”
“Yeah.”
“They told you where to go?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You were there when the car was torched.”
“No . . . I didn’t—”
“You were there, Sandra, we can prove it. Don’t make this worse, lying about something as insignificant as driving out there with the gas.”
Insignificant. Burning your boyfriend to death in the trunk of his car.
Her eyes darted as she processed the information. “I remember going out there . . .”
“Yeah?”
“But I don’t remember the fire.”
“You were there when they torched it.”
“I didn’t see—”
“You saw the whole thing, Sandra.”
“I left before—”
“No.”
“What?”
“You drove the boys home, remember? You need to think before you lie.”
She paused. “Okay.”
“You were there.”
“But I didn’t watch.”
“How could you not?”
Small beads of sweat formed over her upper lip. “This is so messed up . . . I get confused. You’re making me confused.”
A Gruesome Detail Revealed
She was close to giving it up. I could feel it. It was time to push her over the edge. “Did you hear him scream?”
Her head jerked up. Her hazel eyes drilled me, studying me the way I’d studied her, trying to read my thoughts through my eyes, looking for something that said I was bluffing. I just realized she had no idea her boyfriend was still alive when the boys set the car afire. She must have assumed he was dead, that the fire was just a way to destroy evidence.
Her breathing was now labored; I could see her pulse beating in her throat.
“Oh, my God!” she said.
“Yeah, they burned him to death.”
The tears came, showing me I had found it, the small piece of her heart that hadn’t been destroyed by drugs, greed, and a lifetime of bad turns and hard knocks. It was what I needed to finish the job.
“He felt it, every bit of it. A slow, torturous death he never deserved,” I continued. “Your kid, him and his buddies, they beat him with sticks and a bat, stuffed him in the trunk after cracking his skull. Then they torched it, while he was fighting for his life. Thinking of you and your son.”
Tears now streamed down her cheeks. “Oh God!”
“You took the gas out there so they could finish him off.”
“No. Oh God, please, no! I didn’t know . . .”
“The least you could do is tell me the truth. You owe him that. If you believe in anything at all—God, Buddha, karma—you’ll tell me the truth now. Tell me who doused the car with gas and who torched it.”
“I never meant for that.”
“I know, you’re not a bad person,” I lied.
Her shoulders rocked back and forth, her eyes staring past me, likely recalling the night, the way it went down, the horror, the flames, the death. . . the point of no return. She bit at her lower lip, tearing the skin, a trickle of blood oozed from a small crack.
“Brian poured the gas, then Ricky tossed the lighter into the car before Brian was ready. Brian was still pouring the gas and the flames got him, burned his arm and leg. He yelled, called Ricky a dumbass or something. Ricky started laughing. He was high. They were all high.”
“You saw it?”
“Yeah,” she said, her words now barely audible.
I slowly pulled my hands back, straightened in my chair, satisfied with her statement. It was mostly self-serving, but more than enough to nail her. “Thank you, Sandra. You did the right thing, being honest here.”
“I’ve told you the truth.”
“I know.”
“That will count for something?”
“Yeah, it will count for a lot. I’ll make sure the D.A. knows you cooperated.”
“Do you feel better? Getting it off your chest?” I asked, needing the knowledge for future interrogations.
She swept the hair from her face with the back of a hand, and through a few sniffles said, “Yeah, I think.”
“You did the right thing, proving you’re not a bad person.”
“I’m not.”
“No.”
“Am I charged now?”
“You’ll be arrested,” I told her, “it’ll be up to the D.A. whether you’re charged.”
“What happens next?”
“You’ll be booked.”
She pursed her lips, folded her arms over her chest. “Can I have a cigarette?”
“Sure,” I told her. “Come on, we’ll step out on the patio before I walk you over to the jail.”
She stood and smiled, seeming to accept her journey to Hell.
For me, it was time to turn back; I’d been as close to Hell as I cared to be during this dance with a demon.
Danny R. Smith spent 21 years with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, the last seven as a homicide detective. He now lives in Idaho where he works as a private investigator and consultant. He is blessed with a beautiful wife and two wonderful daughters. He is passionate about his dogs and horses whom he counts among his friends.
He is the author of the Dickie Floyd Detective Novel series, and he has written articles for trade publications. He publishes a weekly blog called The Murder Memo, which can be found at dickiefloydnovels.com.
Danny is a member of the Idaho Writers Guild and the Public Safety Writers Association.
Sue again. Awesome, right? A Good Bunch of Men is on sale for 99c at all fine retailers.
If you enjoyed this post, please share. Thank you!
Sue Coletta
Sue Coletta is an award-winning crime writer and an active member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers. Feedspot and Expertido.org named her Murder Blog as “Best 100 Crime Blogs on the Net.” She also blogs on the Kill Zone (Writer's Digest "101 Best Websites for Writers"), Writers Helping Writers, and StoryEmpire. Sue lives with her husband in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire. Her backlist includes psychological thrillers, the Mayhem Series (books 1-3) and Grafton County Series, and true crime/narrative nonfiction. Now, she exclusively writes eco-thrillers, Mayhem Series (books 4-9 and continuing). Sue's appeared on the Emmy award-winning true crime series, Storm of Suspicion, and three episodes of A Time to Kill on Investigation Discovery. When she's not writing, she loves spending time with her murder of crows, who live free but come when called by name. And nature feeds her soul.
46 Comments
TJ Shipley
Danny,
Bottom line is with your background and ability to enable the reader to visualize the scene so well, it would be a shame if you don’t write a book, fiction or true story. My goal when I write is to always try to make the scene realistic. You succeeded. I’d buy it. Great job.
Kelly Banaski
This was absolutely fascinating! Thanks!
Sue Coletta
Glad you enjoyed the post, Kelly. I thought so too!
J Holmes
This is incredible! What a great peek into how they do it “for real”. Thank you for sharing this! Good luck with your books, Danny!
Sue Coletta
That was my exact thought when Danny first sent this to me. Glad you enjoyed it, Julie. 🙂
Danny R. Smith
Thank you, Julie!
June Lorraine Roberts
Wow Sue, thanks for providing the excerpt from Danny’s work. I enjoyed the peek into his real thoughts about the woman across the table.
Sue Coletta
My pleasure, June. BTW, this wasn’t an excerpt. To my knowledge, Danny hasn’t based a book on this case … yet. 😉 Glad you enjoyed the post.
Danny R. Smith
Hi June, thank you for that feedback. Sue is correct, I have not (yet) written a book on that case; this is only a blog. However, if I do ever change from crime fiction to true crime, this story will be the first. It is a fascinating, tragic tale, and I believe a story that should be told. Danny
Mae Clair
This was chilling and eye-opening to the process of interrogation. Thank you both for sharing. Wishing Danny all the best with his novels!
Sue Coletta
I thought so too, Mae. Glad you enjoyed it.
Danny R. Smith
Thank you so much, Mae! I love your hat!
Staci Troilo
I absolutely loved the internalization juxtaposed with the discussion. Artfully handled.
Sue Coletta
I thought so, too, Staci. Glad you enjoyed the post. 🙂
Staci Troilo
Very much so, Sue.
Danny R. Smith
Staci, thank you for the feedback! Danny
Staci Troilo
The pleasure was mine, Danny. Loved the post.
Joycelin Leahy
I really like this post Sue. I have been a journalist and a cop, but I’m learning a lot as a writer. Thank you!
Sue Coletta
I never knew you were a cop, Joycelin. Glad you enjoyed the post. Hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend!
Danny R. Smith
Thank you, Joycelin. I’m glad you enjoyed it! Danny
CS Boyack
Big difference between interview and interrogation. You did fabulous without actually accusing her. Oh, and welcome to Idaho. There are a few of us out here.
Sue Coletta
“Interrogation” worked better as a title. 😉
Danny R. Smith
Thank you (for the feedback and the welcome)! I’ve actually been here 14 years now and love it.
CS Boyack
I’m in Star, what part are you in?
Danny R. Smith
I live out in Fruitland.
CS Boyack
Nice. I have to be close enough for the daily commute.
Danny R. Smith
I go into Boise about twice a week. I own a PI business but I am now structured to do less and less field work so I can work on my writing. I’m hoping that in six years I can truly retire. (: Nice meeting you, CS.
Earl Staggs
Interrogation has become a science, and cops like Danny R. Smith, do it perfection. Unfortunately, like everything else, there’s a dark side when cops push investigation aside and concentrate solely on intense interrogation to the point of eliciting false confessions.
Sue Coletta
That’s true, Earl. Discovery ID (or CI channel; not sure which) has a series dedicated to false confessions, and why the suspect admitted to a crime s/he didn’t commit.
Danny R. Smith
There is also a great series on Starz called “Wrong Man.” It is about the Angie Dodge murder here in Idaho. I was hired to investigate the case by the production company. It’s a tragic case wherein a young man spent 22 years in prison for a murder he did not commit. I also have a blog about it if anyone is interested in reading about that case.
https://dickiefloydnovels.com/angie-dodge-murder/
Sue Coletta
Thanks, Danny. I’ll check it out.
Danny R. Smith
Hi Earl, you are correct, sir. I liken it to horse training, something I have come to love in retirement. It is those whose “requests” of an animal are undetectable to the observer where beauty and success merge together. When you see and hear noise and violence, nothing proper is being done, and no good result can be expected. Thanks for your comment. Danny
sherry fundin
Everything is fair when it comes to getting them to crack. Thanks for sharing the real deal. I am heading to his site to check him out.
sherry @ fundinmental
Sue Coletta
Exactly, Sherry. Cool! I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.
Danny R. Smith
Hi Sherry, thank you for that. I do need to say though, that not everything is fair game. There have been false confessions as the result of improper tactics, and truthfully nothing is worse than an innocent person convicted. But I get your point. Thanks for checking out my site! Danny
Garry Rodgers
This is really, REALLY, good writing, Danny. I’m right in the chair beside you, watching this bitch squirm. Thanks for bringing this to us, Sue!
Sue Coletta
Isn’t he a beautiful writer, Garry? Loved it. I’m right there, too!
Danny R. Smith
Ha! Thanks, Garry. (Sorry about the burst of laughter to begin my response, but “watching this bitch squirm” did it!) Thank you very much for the kind words and feedback, Garry. I do appreciate it. Yes, thank you so much, Sue, for sharing a piece of my writing with your lovely readers. Danny
Sue Coletta
Danny, Garry’s retired from RCMP, so you speak the same language. 😉
Danny R. Smith
Ah, makes sense! (:
patriciaruthsusan
Thanks for sharing what a real murder interrogation is like, Sue. It’s truly chilling. —- Suzanne
Sue Coletta
Isn’t it, Suzanne? Danny did a fab job of brining us into the interrogation room.
Danny R. Smith
Hi Suzanne, you are welcome, and yes, it can be chilling indeed. Thanks for reading and commenting. (:
Danny R. Smith
Hi Margot, thank you for the feedback. Yes, this was a terrible crime indeed, one of the worst. As for the “interrogation,” seldom does a confession come from being mean, talking down, yelling and screaming, or using physical violence (which is of course against the law). The key is to downplay the act. One of my favorite lines I’d use was: “Just because you killed someone doesn’t make you a bad person.”
Margot Kinberg
Oh, this is potent! It’s really interesting to see how a real murder interrogation works. And it was a terrible crime! Reading about how a murder interrogation actually works is so helpful, too, when you’re a crime writer. Thanks, both.
Sue Coletta
Right? I knew you’d like this post, Margot. #kindredspirits