Half the World Away

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Bradley Carlson’s trial opens in August. Even though he has confessed, the case is still presented to judges in court. Peter Dunne emails the day before to confirm it is happening. He and the US consul general will be attending.

He emails again at the end of the first day, early in the morning our time, summarizing the evidence. No foreign journalists are allowed in but they wait outside the court and we see a fifteen-second piece about the trial opening on the TV broadcast. I feel sick each time there’s news. Cold to my stomach. Lori gets messages from Shona, Dawn and Rosemary.

Late afternoon, I find her in tears in the kitchen. ‘Oh, Lori.’ I sit beside her, tentatively touch her shoulder.

She twists her fingers about her wrist, to and fro, tracing the scars that are now bands of silvery skin. ‘I thought it was getting easier but…’ she shudders ‘… it makes me so scared.’

I stroke her back. ‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.’

She cries some more, then says, ‘At least I don’t have to be there, see him.’

‘That’s true. Would it be any better if we asked people not to send any updates?’

‘No,’ she says. ‘I’d only wonder. They don’t say much, really, not about the details. There’s more online. I’m not going to read all that.’

‘That’s fine. Of course it is.’

‘I just want it to be over.’ She looks at me, her lips wobbling. ‘Feeling like this – what if it’s never over?’

I choose my words with care. ‘You said it had been getting easier. And I think it will again. The trial’s brought it all back, and of course that’s bound to be really, really hard, but once it’s finished, things should start to feel different again. You’re never going to forget what happened but you won’t be thinking about it all the time.’

‘Letting it rule my life – everything…’

‘I know.’

‘I think I’ll ring Dad,’ she says.

‘You’d like to see him?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll have a word too,’ I say.

After Lori’s spoken to Tom, she puts me on the phone and I walk out into the hall. ‘Just to warn you, she’s finding this really tough. She doesn’t want to know all the ins and outs.’

He understands.

Lori seems comforted by Tom’s visit and then, perhaps to distract herself, offers to help the boys get ready for bed. Tom has been following the news online. If Lori doesn’t want to know any details, he’s the polar opposite.

‘His confession’s backed up with solid forensic evidence,’ Tom says.

‘Such as?’ I say.

‘His DNA is everywhere, on the suitcase, inside the suitcase.’ Tom looks away. ‘On Lori.’

‘Oh, God.’

‘The pictures on his laptop. And the prosecution can prove he bought the drugs online, the caustic soda, the plastic ties. It’s comprehensive. It’s completely damning.’

He shows me some of the posts online.

The trial opened today at the Sichuan Chengdu Intermediate People’s Court of American Bradley Carlson (28), accused of intentional homicide, kidnapping and rape. The court heard that the defendant had confessed to his crimes. His lawyer, Wang Hongtang, stated that his client accepted his culpability and was co-operating fully with the procuratorate. The prosecution stated that the evidence is abundant and incontrovertible. Carlson is accused of the intentional murder and rape of Chinese student Bai Lijuan, abducted in 2013. He is also accused of kidnap, rape and intention to murder the British teacher, Lorelei Maddox, abducted on 7 April 2014. Both victims were held by Carlson at a rented unit in the Jinniu district of the city.

In the US Carlson is portrayed as some sort of Tom Ripley character from the Patricia Highsmith novels: a cold, callous, charming psychopath. But Ripley’s murders were acts of self-advancement and self-preservation, while Bradley Carlson’s come solely from a twisted desire to control and dominate, rape and kill.

Worldwide, there is a fascination with the story and the players: the apparently clean-cut American, the innocent Chinese student, the British backpacker. Lori is variously described as quirky, fun-loving and a party animal. I wonder if ‘quirky’ is subtext for ‘gay’.

Tom tells me what he has gleaned so far. Carlson had encountered Bai Lijuan at the Chengdu North Railway Station, chaotic that day as half the people in the country were travelling to their home villages and towns for the holiday. He asked her for help finding his train, offered her a spiked drink by way of thanks, then got her into a cab. He told the driver she was drunk, that the English class had been celebrating and she had been foolish, that he was her teacher and had to take her to her parents. He spoke Chinese to the comatose girl, pretended concern. The taxi dropped them at the end of the alley. Carlson took her to the workshop. She was petite, like Lori, easy to carry.

The prosecution have described how Carlson kept her chained up like a dog and how, after her death, he disposed of her body, taking the skeletal remains to his flat.

Our statements about finding Bai Lijuan have been read out in court.

I stop Tom talking. I’ve heard enough. Tears start in my eyes and he puts his hand on mine. ‘It’ll be OK,’ he says. I look at him. His light blue eyes are steady, clear.

I find it hard to speak but I nod my agreement. It will. It will be OK.

The trial lasts only two days. As Peter Dunne anticipated, the Chinese authorities have been very careful to conduct proceedings in the spirit of fairness and transparency. No one is accusing them of coercion or heavy-handedness. And they could do with the PR: in Hong Kong pro-democracy activists are staging protests, camping out in the city, disrupting the everyday life of the territory. The ghost of Tiananmen Square hovers in the wings.

Carlson has offered no defence as such, so it is simply a question of laying out all the evidence in turn. His lawyer has emphasized that Carlson has been fully co-operative since making his confession, in an effort to mitigate against the most severe of sentences. The verdict is expected in the coming days.

Lori and I watch the news item about the conclusion of the trial on the computer together. There are pictures of Bai Lijuan, and her parents, the photograph of Lori, one of Bradley Carlson taken outside the court, cuffed to PSB guards, and an aerial shot of the city wreathed in smog.

She moans quietly as she sees him. Pushes back from the table.

‘Do you want to talk-’ I begin.

‘No, Mum, just leave it. Just…’ She’s agitated, her breath uneven, her hands raised and her head twisting from side to side, as though she’s looking to escape. To flee.

‘Lori,’ I say calmly, ‘it’s OK.’

‘It’s not,’ she says, tears breaking in her voice. ‘It’s never going to be OK. How can you say that?’ She turns away.

I get up to go after her. ‘Lori. I’m sorry. Let’s just-’

‘No,’ she chokes, ‘leave me alone.’

I bite my tongue, nod my agreement, watch her go, aching to hug her, to console her.

I wait until I’m on my own and less upset before reading the reports online. There is repeated mention of Bradley Carlson’s attitude in court, describing how he appeared to boast about his crimes and relished explaining how he had planned and carried them out.

There’s been more coverage of the case in America, lots of discussion on websites. Bradley Carlson is not classed as a serial killer because of his low body count. Serial killers have to murder three or more people over a period of at least a month. Some commentators speculate he will eventually be ‘found out’, that there will be more victims.

The Chinese police complied with requests from the authorities in the US to ask Bradley Carlson about any previous victims but he denied any previous rapes or murders. Perhaps in years to come they will match his DNA to unsolved cases. As Peter Dunne said, it’s unlikely he’d progressed from a state of innocence to the appalling attack on, first, Bai Lijuan and then Lori.

Some commentators online have tried to answer questions about his psychopathology. Carlson’s intelligence, his apparent charm, his successful career, all made him seem like a normal person. He was excellent at manipulating people, to gain their trust and friendship, mimicking appropriate emotions when in fact he would be incapable of feeling anything. His crimes were organized, carefully planned and coolly enacted. All these are classic attributes of a psychopathic killer. His prime motivation in the crimes was to exercise power through total control. A comatose victim could offer no resistance whatsoever. Some speculate he may have had necrophiliac tendencies. I almost retch when I read that. There was no mention of such behaviour in the trial accounts and, from what I’ve read, Carlson was frank, arrogant even, in detailing his actions: he bragged about his behaviour. He had no remorse and no shame.

Some transcripts from the trial are made available. The most damning section released by the court demonstrates his total lack of empathy. Carlson was asked why he had kidnapped Bai Lijuan and his reply shocked all present. He wanted to celebrate the holiday in style.

‘You went to the North Railway Station with the intention of abducting a woman?’

‘Yes.’

‘And why did you select Bai Lijuan?’

‘She was small,’ Carlson said, ‘easy to handle.’

‘And Lorelei Maddox?’

‘The same.’

‘Miss Maddox was your friend?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why would you attack your friend?’

‘It wasn’t personal,’ Carlson said. ‘It wasn’t about her.’

‘It was about you? About your perverted desires?’

‘Yes.’

‘You took pleasure from this – the kidnaps, the rapes, the murder?’

‘Why else would I do it?’

I feel the thrum of hatred for him in the beat of my blood, acid in my heart.

There are short biographies about him online, removed from his birth family for his own safety and adopted as a two-year-old. Raised by a fundamentalist preacher, a strict disciplinarian, and his wife. Bradley Carlson’s adoptive mother had died of ovarian cancer when he was eleven years old. He had left the US after graduating in international development. No family members attended the trial and his adoptive father told reporters that Bradley was no longer his son.

Before I close the computer I check for the latest news on the Nigerian schoolgirls who were kidnapped back in April. There’s talk of a ceasefire to enable their return but the whole situation sounds chaotic, the government inept. All those families waiting for word, all those girls, those daughters.