Ordinary Police Interrogation in the United States: The Destruction of Meaning and Persons: A Psychoanalytic-Ethical Investigation

At 6:30 A.M., January 21, 1998, seventh grader Stephanie Crowe was found stabbed to death in her bedroom doorway. When police arrived, they told the family not to speak to one another. At the station, the family was required gradually to undress while being videotaped. The children were separated from their parents and taken to a facility for abused and neglected children.

Crime scene investigation revealed no likely means of entry. Shortly before the murder, a strange homeless man interacted with neighbors, going to various houses looking for a supposed girlfriend.

Police attention focused on fourteen-year-old Michael Crowe, Stephanie’s brother. He seemed to them to respond abnormally to his sister’s death. Michael, infatuated with fantasy games like “Dungeons and Dragons,” had violent pictures on the walls of his room. Awakening at 4:30 A.M., after the time the police determined his sister was killed, he passed her doorway without noticing her body.

Most of Michael’s long interrogation was videotaped, except for thirteen minutes in which he was arrested and decided to confess. Police told Michael they wanted to use a Computer Voice Stress Analyzer, a device its manufacturer claims can detect lying. (There is no systematic evidence for the claim.) Michael agreed to the test but his interrogator, claiming to notice some reluctance, asked, “What’s the problem, Mike?” The boy replied, “I spent all day away from my family. I couldn’t see them. I feel like I’m being treated like I killed my sister, but I didn’t. It feels horrible. I’m being blamed for it.” The detective responded, “Mike, you need to trust me on this. This is going to work out. What we’re after and what’s important is that we get the truth of the matter” (Sauer and Wilkens, 2009, p. 10).

Mike was told that he showed deception during the Computer Voice Stress Analyzer interview and that the crime scene was being investigated. “They’re going to find all kinds of stuff, and you know that . . . I’m looking at you right now—okay?—and inside you’re about ready to burst” (p. 11). Michael began to cry. The detective told him that all he could “give back” was the truth. “You’re going to have to put all the cards on the table. Science is in our favor. Technology is on our side.” Mike continued to deny involvement after two-and-a-half hours of interrogation at which point the detective lied to him, “We found blood in your room already. It’s easy to make mistakes in the dark. We know who did it. What we need to do now is to get over the fact that it’s been done and get down to why it was done and get on with our lives here.” A little later he said, “You need to help us understand how to help you. Just because a person makes mistakes—just because a person does something bad . . . a) it doesn’t mean that the world has come to an end, and b) it doesn’t mean that you’re a bad person” (p. 12). The detective told Mike, “I’m going to try everything . . . that the system can muster to help you through this” (p. 13). Michael was interrogated for six more hours later that day. He was told that there might be “two Michaels” (p. 13) and that since he was only fourteen he would not be held to the same standards as an adult street criminal. At this point Michael entertained the idea that he might have been insane or in some other way committed the murder without being able to recall it, as the police had suggested. He was told if he failed to cooperate he would go to jail; if he cooperated he would get “help.” The police said they were growing impatient. He had a limited time to confess. “The reason I’m sounding impatient, Mike, is that...