The Confession (10 page)

Donté continued to deny everything. He was exhausted and laid his head on the table. Kerber slapped the table violently, startling his suspect. He again accused Donté of the crime, said they had the witnesses and the proof, and that he would be dead within five years. Texas prosecutors know how to streamline the system so that the executions are not delayed.

Kerber asked Donté to just imagine his mother, sitting in the witness room, waving at him for the last time, crying her eyes out, as they strapped him down and adjusted the chemicals. You’re a dead man, he said more than once. But there was an option. If Donté would come clean, tell them what happened, make a full confession, then he, Kerber, would guarantee that the state would not seek the death penalty. Donté would get life with no parole, which was no piece of cake, but at least he could write letters to his mom and see her twice a month.

Such threats of death and promises of leniency are unconstitutional, and the police know it. Both Kerber and Morrissey denied using these tactics. Not surprisingly, Morrissey’s notes make no reference to threats or promises. Nor do they accurately record the time and sequence of events. Donté did not have access to a pen and paper and, after five hours of interrogation, lost track of time.

Around midnight, Detective Needham opened the door and announced, “Pickett’s talking.” Kerber smiled at Morrissey, then left in another dramatic exit.

Pickett was alone in his locked room, fuming because he’d been forgotten. He had not seen or spoken to anyone in over an hour.

Riley Drumm found his green van parked at the city jail. He’d been driving the streets and was relieved to find the van. He was also concerned about his son and what kind of trouble he was in. The Slone City Jail is next door, and attached, to the police department. Riley went to the jail first and, after some confusion, was told that his son was not behind bars. He had not been processed. There were sixty-two prisoners back there, none by the name of Donté Drumm. The jailer, a younger white officer, recognized Donté’s name and was as helpful as possible. He suggested that Mr. Drumm check next door with the police department. This he did, and it too proved confusing and frustrating. It was 12:40 a.m. and the front door
was locked. Riley called his wife with an update, then he pondered how to get inside the building. After a few minutes, a patrol car parked nearby, and two uniformed officers emerged. They spoke to Riley Drumm, who explained why he was there. He followed them inside and took a seat in the lobby. The two officers left in search of his son. Half an hour passed before they reappeared and said that Donté was being questioned. About what? Why? The officers did not know. Riley began waiting. At least the boy was safe.

The first crack occurred when Kerber produced a color eight-by-ten photo of Nicole. Weary, alone, frightened, uncertain, and overwhelmed, Donté took one look at her pretty face and began crying. Kerber and Morrissey exchanged confident smiles.

Donté wept for several minutes, then asked to use the restroom. They escorted him down the hall, stopping at the window so he could see Torrey Pickett sitting at a table, holding a pen, writing on a legal pad. Donté stared in disbelief, even shook his head and mumbled something to himself.

Torrey wrote a one-page summary in which he denied knowing anything about Nicole Yarber’s disappearance. The summary was somehow misplaced by the Slone Police Department and has never been seen.

Back in “The Choir Room,” Kerber informed Donté that his pal Torrey had signed a statement in which he swore, under oath, that Donté was seeing Nicole, that he was crazy about her, but she was worried about the consequences and trying to break up. Donté was desperate and stalking the girl. Torrey was afraid he might hurt her.

As Kerber delivered this latest series of lies, he read from a sheet of paper, as if it were Torrey’s statement. Donté closed his eyes, shook his head, and tried to understand what was happening. But his thoughts were much slower now, his reaction time deadened by fatigue and fear.

He asked if he could leave, and Kerber yelled at him. The detective cursed him and said no, he could not leave, because he was their prime suspect. He was their man. They had the proof. Donté asked if he needed a lawyer, and Kerber said of course not. A lawyer can’t change the facts. A lawyer can’t bring back Nicole. A lawyer can’t save your life, Donté, but we can.

Morrissey’s notes make no reference to the discussion about lawyers.

At 2:20 a.m., Torrey Pickett was allowed to leave. Detective Needham led him through a side door so he would not bump into Mr. Drumm in the lobby. The detectives in the basement had been warned that the defendant’s father was in the building and wanted to see him. This was denied under oath at several hearings.

Morrissey began to fade and was replaced by Needham. For the next three hours, while Morrissey napped, Needham took notes. Kerber showed no signs of slowing down. As he hammered away at the suspect, he seemed to energize himself. He was about to break the suspect, solve the case, and become the hero. He offered Donté another crack at the polygraph, this one to be limited solely to the question of his whereabouts on Friday, December 4, at approximately 10:00 p.m. Donté’s first reaction was to say no, to distrust the machine, but such wisdom was overridden by the desire to get out of the room. Just get away from Kerber. Anything to get the psycho out of his face.

Detective Ferguson hooked him up to the machine again and asked a few questions. The polygraph made its noises, its graph paper slowly rolled out. Donté stared at it without a clue, but something told him the results would not be good.

Again, the results proved he was telling the truth. He was at home that Friday, babysitting, and he never left.

But the truth was not important. While he was away, Kerber moved his chair to a corner, as far from the door as possible. When Donté returned, he took his place and Kerber pulled his chair close so that their knees were practically touching. He began cursing Donté again, telling him he had not only flunked the second polygraph but “severely flunked” it. For the first time, he touched Donté, by jabbing his right index finger into his chest. Donté slapped his hand away and was ready to fight, when Needham stepped forward with a Taser. The detective seemed anxious to give it a try, but did not. Both cops cursed and threatened Donté.

The jabbing continued, along with the nonstop accusations and threats. Donté realized he would not be allowed to leave until he gave the cops what they wanted. And maybe they were right after all. They seemed so certain about what happened. They were convinced beyond any doubt that he was involved. His own friend was saying that he and Nicole were involved in a relationship. And the polygraphs—what would the jury think when they learned that he had lied? Donté was doubting himself and his own memory. What if he had blacked out and erased
the terrible deed? And he really didn’t want to die, not then, not five or ten years down the road.

At 4:00 a.m., Riley Drumm left the police station and went home. He tried to sleep but could not. Roberta made coffee and they worried and waited for sunrise, as if things would clear up then.

Kerber and Needham took a break at 4:30 a.m. When they were alone in the hallway, Kerber said, “He’s ready.”

A few minutes later, Needham opened the door quietly and peeked in. Donté was lying on the floor, sobbing.

They took him a doughnut and a soft drink and resumed the interrogation. A revelation slowly came over Donté. Since he could not leave until he gave them their story, and since he would, at that moment, confess to killing his own mother, why not play along? Nicole would turn up soon enough, dead or alive, and this would solve the mystery. The police would look like fools for verbally beating a confession out of him. Some farmer or hunter would stumble over her remains, and these clowns would be exposed. Donté would be vindicated, freed, and everyone would feel sorry for him.

Twelve hours after the interrogation began, he looked at Kerber and said, “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll tell you everything.”

After the break, Kerber helped him fill in the blanks. He had sneaked out of the house after his sister was asleep. He was desperate to see Nicole because she was pushing him away, trying to break off their affair. He knew Nicole was at the movies with friends. He drove there, alone, in the green Ford van. He confronted her in the parking lot near her car. She agreed to get in. They drove around Slone, then into the countryside. He wanted sex, she said no. They were finished. He tried to force himself on her and she fought back. He forced her into sex, but it wasn’t enjoyable. She scratched him, even drew blood. The attack turned ugly. He flew into a rage, began to choke her, and he couldn’t stop, didn’t stop until it was too late. Then he panicked. He had to do something with her. He yelled at her back in the rear of the van, but she never responded. He drove north, toward Oklahoma. He’d lost track of time, then realized that dawn was approaching. He had to get home. He had to get rid of her body. On the Route 244 bridge over the Red River, at approximately 6:00, on the morning of December 5, he stopped the van. It was
still dark, she was still very dead. He tossed her over and waited until he heard the sickening splash below. He cried all the way back to Slone.

For three hours, Kerber coached him, prodded him, corrected him, cursed him, reminded him to tell the truth. The details had to be perfect, Kerber kept saying. At 8:21 a.m., the video camera was finally turned on. A wiped-out, stone-faced Donté Drumm sat at the table with a fresh soft drink and doughnut in front of him, visible so that their hospitality could be shown.

The video ran for seventeen minutes, and would send him to death row.

Donté was charged with abduction, aggravated rape, and capital murder. He was taken to a cell where he promptly fell asleep.

At 9:00 a.m., the chief of police, along with the district attorney, Mr. Paul Koffee, held a press conference to announce the Nicole Yarber case had been solved. Sadly, one of Slone’s former football heroes, Donté Drumm, had confessed to the murder. Other witnesses verified his involvement. Sympathies to her family.

The confession was attacked immediately. Donté recanted and his attorney, Robbie Flak, went public with a scathing condemnation of the police and their tactics. Months later, the defense lawyers filed motions to suppress the confession, and the suppression hearing lasted for a week. Kerber, Morrissey, and Needham testified at length, and their testimony was hotly challenged by the defense. They steadfastly denied using threats, promises, or intimidation. They specifically denied using the death penalty as a means to frighten Donté into cooperating. They denied verbally abusing the suspect or pushing him to the point of exhaustion and collapse. They denied that Donté had ever mentioned a lawyer, or that he wanted to terminate the interrogation and go home. They denied any knowledge of his father’s presence at the station and his desire to see his son. They denied the fact that their own polygraph tests showed clear evidence of truthfulness, but instead testified that the results were “inconclusive,” in their opinions. They denied any trickery with the alleged statement of Torrey Pickett. Pickett testified on Donté’s behalf and denied telling the police anything about an affair between Donté and Nicole.

The trial judge expressed grave concerns about the confession, but not grave enough to exclude it from the trial. She refused to suppress it, and it was later shown to the jury. Donté watched it as if he were watching a different person. No one has ever seriously questioned the fact that it guaranteed his conviction.

The confession was attacked again on appeal, but the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals unanimously affirmed the conviction and death sentence.