Adoption Page 21

  “Christopher Bradford? Holy Crap!” was the only initial response Henderson could manage to get out of his mouth.

  “By that reply, I assume you are familiar this man’s name?”

  “Christopher Bradford would be the second most likely boy to have been involved in a sick situation like this. Let me tell you…”

  “Sorry to break in Mr. Henderson, but we need to send a couple of investigators out to meet with you this evening in New York so you can share any information with us you might have regarding Christopher. It will be a couple of hours before they arrive, but a girl’s life in on the line and we would very much appreciate your cooperation.”

  “Yes, Captain. In fact, I still keep in touch with a couple of the nuns who worked at the orphanage. I’ll call them to see if they know anything about the location of the records. I can’t make any promises, but I will do whatever I can to help.”

  “I appreciate your cooperation. However, I have one question that I need to ask you.”

  “Go ahead, Captain, shoot.” replied Henderson, already regretting his choice of words.

  “You said Bradford would have been the second most likely boy to have been involved in a situation like this. Who would have been the first?”

  “Keith, Willingsby. As much trouble as Christopher was, his brother Keith was three times as bad.”

  Ken could not believe his ears. “What do you mean brother? One is named Bradford and the other Willingsby.”

  “Bradford is – was - Christopher’s adopted name. Christopher’s adopted father flew the coop soon after Christopher’s adoption leaving his wife to raise Christopher by herself. We knew of a few boyfriends she dated here or there, but there was never anyone for the boy after the step-father was gone. Keith was so exasperatingly evil and impossible to control that he was never adopted out. He remained at the orphanage until he was eighteen years old. It was unfortunate, but he spent most of his time in solitary because of the perverted things he said and did to the other children. He acted out in many different ways ...brutal, sadistic… from raping of some of the younger girls to severe beatings of some of the boys. Keith did not need to be antagonized; his need to hurt people was something that just came naturally to him. Even the older boys at the orphanage stayed away from Keith.

  All a person had to do was glance in Keith’s direction. Keith would flip out and be all over them punching and kicking until the staff could pull him away. It didn’t matter if it was one of the kids or a staff member. It was rumored that Keith loved to torture small animals he caught in the woods behind the orphanage, letting them die slowly.

  He literally had the entire population of children at the orphanage so afraid of him that no one dared to tell on him for fear he would find out. Even most of the staff stayed away from him. A few of the children he hurt required physical and psychiatric hospitalization; two are still institutionalized to this day. We reached the point where we would lock him up in solitary for even the smallest infraction of the rules just to keep him from the others. Also rumored was that some of the staff brutalized and tortured him because of what he was doing to the other kids. None of the rumors about Keith’s torture of the small animals, or the supposed beatings by the staff could be substantiated. I hired outside investigators to collect evidence so that we could press charges against Keith and send him off to a juvenile prison facility, but no one would say anything against him and the system turned its back on us. I will tell you this much, Captain, if I live to be a hundred years old, I would not want to meet up with Keith Willingsby again. People talk about the coming of an anti-Christ? Well, I think Keith might have put in for the job.”

  58

  With the white van registered to Christopher Bradford gone, we figured his brother Keith must have subdued Marty, put her in the van, and driven off just before we arrived at the Baker building. With the revelation about Keith Willingsby being Christopher’s biological brother, and knowing just a little about the years Keith spent at the orphanage, we knew Marty’s situation was looking dimmer by the hour. Torturous and deviant behavior at a young age is not a good indicator for one’s future behavior as an adult. It seemed as though Keith had earned a PhD in deviance by the time he was twelve or thirteen, perhaps after graduating from perversion and sociopathic tendencies. I caught myself to correct my socially, unacceptable mistake. The term “Sociopath” is seldom used in today’s world of “gentle” understanding. Now a sociopath is generally referred to as a person afflicted with “antisocial personality disorder, or ASPD.

  “How could I be so unfeeling?” I thought to myself with every ounce of sarcasm I could muster. “I mean, what the hell, by changing the label attached to the mental disease, we somehow change the person afflicted with the disease? Yeah. Right.” My rational thinking was making me feel frustrated, because some people’s concerns afforded more compassion to those afflicted rather than proper justice being metered out for those affected. “I’m supposed to worry about calling this asshole a sociopath as opposed to a person with ASPD?” I continued to mentally rant. “I think ASPD translates as “another sociopathic perverted dickhead. I mean, look at what these two idiots have managed to accomplish? Five dead, one missing, and that’s just in the last few years.”

  My attention was snapped back when I realized my thoughts were actually becoming vocal statements as I stood staring at the data boards in the meeting room in Auburn. We were in the middle of a briefing with my team members and Ken Garber’s team members at the State Police facility. My thoughts had wandered when one of the forensic psychologists corrected a team member who used the term sociopath.

  “Hey. Hey. Ron.” I heard Ken say softly just before he jabbed me in the ribs. “I don’t think the word “dickhead” can be used in any of our reports, if you know what I mean.”

  “Sorry about that, Ken. Sorry, everybody.” I said apologetically, a little more than red faced. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the meeting.”

  Leaning over to Ken, I quietly asked how much of my thoughts I had shared unkowingly with the group.

  “I think it was somewhere around sociopathic perverted dickhead,” he replied with a chuckle while shaking his head.

  One of the troopers sitting a couple of chairs away looked up and said, “Hey Chief, don’t worry about it. There isn’t one of us in this room that doesn’t think these guys are a couple of dickheads! You just said what we’re all thinking.” Everyone in the meeting room gave an audible signal of agreement.

  Now it was the forensic psychologist with the red face feeling a little uncomfortable. Not one to pass up on an opportunity to gloat, I looked at him smiling my little smile of group acceptance and unity. No, it was not a competition, but at least I knew the rest of the group also thought these guys were assholes.

  Todd and one of the Staties, having returned from New York late the night before, recounted their talk with Jarred Henderson. Jarred was not able to get the records of the orphanage by the time the officers arrived, but said he would have the information within a few days. Two nuns, Sister Allison and Sister Florence were with Jarred in his office when the officers arrived. The sisters both repeated pretty much what Jarred and Ken had discussed earlier in the day with regards to Keith Willingsby and Christopher Bradford. Although both boys were known as being extremely difficult, Keith was regarded as the most evil and dangerous child they had ever met during their careers with the order.

  Sister Florence said that Keith was the leader of the two brothers. He would tell Christopher what it was he wanted him to do and Christopher would obey without question or hesitation. The sister continued to say that Christopher was subservient to Keith almost as a servant to a master. Totally dependent on Keith’s every word. The two boys together terrorized the entire population for over two years, until Christopher was adopted out leaving Keith alone at the orphanage. Keith retaliated by increasing his campaign of intimidation, physical and s
exual abuses, and threats of death on the children at Angels of Mercy. Even the older boys at the orphanage steered a very wide path around Keith. Although not muscularly large for his size, Keith emitted an aura of darkness and evil that chilled people to the bone.

  “It was the “evil within him,” Sister Allison told the officers. “That is what protected him. Standing next to him was a frightful experience. It felt as if a vile, electrical pulse was infecting your body as he pierced your soul with his black eyes. Eyes that did not look at you, but rather peeled you apart layer by layer exposing your fears, making him stronger and leaving you exhausted and feeling violated. He was beyond cold, totally unfeeling. His only joy was watching other people suffer.”

  For the next three years, the orphanage stood a daily vigil trying to protect the other children from Keith. Sometimes they were successful. Sometimes they were not. Solitary confinement at the orphanage was given a new name. It was called Keith’s room.

  Both of the sisters verified the rumors of Keith’s abuses at the hands of a few of the staff members. No one ever seemed to be around when the abuses took place, but in some instances Keith was not seen or heard from for days at a time while he recovered from the beatings. Keith never attempted any sort of retaliation nor did he ever go to the sisters or to Jarred Henderson to ask for protection. Instead, he remained silent and continued to take out his rage on the children.

  A resounding sigh of relief filled the orphanage the day Keith was told he was free to leave. At eighteen, he had reached legal age to go out on his own. It only took Keith half an hour to get his personal belongings together, sign the release papers, and walk off the grounds. On his way out of the administration building, Keith boldly walked over to a group of attendants standing together smirking at him. Their smirks vanished after a brief conversation with Keith, each attendant looking unsettled and fearful as the front door closed behind him..

  The attendants never shared what Keith had said to them, but within a year, all three attendants were victims of some sort of fatal accident. One died in his apartment from an apparent electrocution. Police found a radio in the tub where the attendant was relaxing, having a drink after work. The second fell off of a “T” landing just as a passing train roared through. There was very little of him left to find by the time the train came to a stop five hundred feet down the track. The third was found impaled on the wrought iron fence at the perimeter of the orphanage one morning as the day shift staff came in to relieve the night shift personnel. Everyone at the orphanage always wondered if Keith was responsible for their deaths, but no one was ever able to prove his involvement. Those who remained feared they could be next!

  59

  Jarred “Gabby” Henderson was a man of his word. Two days after our officers met with him and the sisters in New York, I received a large, white envelope from Fed-Ex containing the information regarding Christopher’s and Keith’s history at the orphanage. I closed the door to my office and took two hours to review the enclosed pages. When I was finished reading, I was frustrated and disappointed to find no new information we could use to help find Marty or Keith. Although more detailed, the stories were pretty much what we already knew. There was no “smoking gun” to help us in our search. Every police agency in New England was looking for the white van we believed was used in Marty’s abduction. A national alert was issued as well, though I really felt Keith was hiding in the area. The one item of interest I did find in the envelope was a picture of Keith taken when he was released from the orphanage. I would run the picture over to the State Police and have them age enhance the photograph so that we would have a close resemblance to what Keith looked like today. The photo would then be sent out nationwide, and all New England television stations would be asked to show the photo during news broadcasts. It was imperative that Keith’s face saturate the television and newspapers in this area so that more people might recognize him if he should venture out of his hole. My hope: some person would recognize Keith at a convenience store buying groceries, or buying gasoline for the van.

  “One tip,” I thought. “One friggin’ tip is all we need.”

  It had been three days Marty’s disappearance from the Baker building. I paced my office floor knowing Marty’s chances of survival decreased proportionately with each passing hour. This truly was a race against time. In my opinion, whatever happened to Marty while she was Christopher’s captive would not compare to her situation now that she was being held by Keith. I had grave concern for Marty as I continued reviewing the pages of information scattered across the top of my desk.

  “Paper. Just meaningless pieces of paper that don’t mean a thing.” I thought. “Marty’s out there somewhere enduring god knows what, and I’m sitting here on my ass not able to move a muscle to help her.”

  The door to my office opened. I looked up to see Derek walk in.

  “Chief, I’ve been reviewing information we received over the fax machine from the State Mental Health Department in Worcester. They were responding to the inquiry we sent out a couple of days ago asking for any information on Christopher Bradford or Keith Willingsby.”

  “Go ahead Derek. I’m all ears.” I said emphatically, knowing right away that I was curt and to the point with my response. “Sorry Derek, I…”

  “That’s o.k. Chief. It looks like Keith was a patient for a short time in one of the state hospitals in Westborough. The records show he was arrested for assault after beating a guy at a bar. The charges included, drunk and disorderly, assault with a deadly weapon – a broken Tequila bottle - resisting arrest, assault on a police officer, and destruction of police property – he kicked out the windows of the police cruiser. The report continues that he was able to get his arms around one of the officer’s necks while being escorted into the station and almost choked the officer to death using the chain between the cuffs against the officer’s wind pipe. It took two other officers to free him from his grip.

  “During the ninety days Keith was at the hospital, he underwent psychiatric evaluation and was deemed fit to stand trial. During the hearing that followed, the guy Keith cut to ribbons with the broken bottle actually testified in his defense! He told the court he provoked Keith with constant heckling during the course of the night and that Keith really was acting in self-defense. The man said Keith tried to defuse the situation by remaining calm, even offering the guy a drink. At one point the guy confessed to pushing Keith off of his bar stool onto the floor. Even after being thrown to the floor, Keith maintained his composure, righted the stool, and sat down again continuing to drink his whiskey. The witness testified he was surprised by Keith’s non-response to his antagonism and further stated it wasn’t until he struck Keith on the back of his head that Keith grabbed the bottle of Tequila, broke it on the top of the bar, and cut him.

  “Keith’s lawyer maintained that the arresting officers used excessive force during the arrest. He stated that upon their arrival at the bar, they saw the guy on the floor covered in blood from the over thirty cuts inflicted by the broken bottle. Assuming Keith was the antagonist they cuffed him right away, calling the ambulance for the victim lying unconscious beside the bar. The lawyer stated that the officers, while escorting Keith to the police cruiser in the parking lot, lost their hold on his arms and he fell onto the pavement cutting his front lip and bruising the side of his face. The lawyer, at this point in the hearing, held up a video surveillance tape from the bar asking the judge to accept the video tape as evidence the officers forcefully struck Keith in the face and pushed his face into the door of the police cruiser. Needless to say the charges against Keith were dropped immediately. The judge ruled that Keith acted in self-defense and that the arresting officers used excessive force during the arrest. Keith was instructed to pay for the windows in the police cruiser. Keith’s lawyer immediately filed a law suit against both the bar patron who attacked Keith and the police department for excessive force and bodily harm to his client. As
far as could be determined, the city paid a substantial amount of monies in order to avoid the publicity of a trial.”

  “Christ. This guy has to be luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world!” I responded as Derek took a breather and sat in the chair opposite my desk.

  “Chief, I was talking with Kim about this and we have a hunch we would like to follow up on, if you don’t mind.”

  “Yeah, I don’t mind a hunch now and then. What’s your hunch?”

  “We know Keith was a patient at the Westborough facility. He spent three months there. He would have had plenty of time to study the buildings and the grounds.

  We’d like to take a ride over there and look around. It may be nothing, but it would be a great place to hide – abandoned buildings scattered all over the property with virtually no visitors.”

  “It’s the middle of winter.” I replied. “If he’s hiding out there, he would be in a building with lights and heat. I would suggest you and Kim contact the electric company. See which of the buildings on the site are currently using electricity. This will save time on your initial search. If you don’t find him in any of the buildings with power, then search the remainder of the buildings.”

  “Good idea Chief. we’ll can get on this right away. Is it alright if we work overtime this?”

  “If you don’t work over, I’ll lock the both of you up for dereliction of duty.”

  Derek smiled, and walked to the doorway. Turning he said, “Chief, we’ll find her. I know we will.”

  “I hope you’re right, Derek. I pray she’s still alive. I hope you’re right.” I said as he disappeared into the outside office.

  60

  Keith put on the black mask, adjusting it to fit more comfortably on his face. After watching the Boston Celtics beat the New York Knicks, polishing off some chips and onion dip, downing a cold beer and allowing the moment of peace and quiet to settle his mind, Keith figured it was time to “play” with Marty. This would not be part of the adoption process like the other girls before. No, this was something much more personal and intimate. “This is between me and you, Marty. This playtime is time for me to express my needs. You are only a means to MY end – your end, being my main goal.” he thought, smiling as he walked to the room where he held Marty McMaster.