Page 55 of The Writer

He had a problem that didn’t go away, only evolved. He simply got better at hiding it.

Here’s the thing, though: The police didn’t accuse Lucero of harming a single person other than Maggie Marshall. Not one.

They found all those books, those souvenirs, the photographs—damning evidence, for sure, but not a single victim. They did manage to track down three of the girls in those photographs, all of whom were alive and well. Two of them had no idea Lucero had stolen books from their bags, nor did they know he’d taken pictures of them. The third recognized Lucero from the park and said they’d spoken once or twice, but only in passing.

No other victims.

Not one.

Only Maggie Marshall.

Like I said, he got better at hiding. Maybe those skills extended to hiding bodies, but there is no proof of that.

There’s only Maggie Marshall.

A girl found dead in the park. Strangled. Raped. With Lucero’s footprints nearby, his lost watch, his cigarette butts.

During his initial interview, Lucero admitted to finding her body and telling no one. Given his past, do you blame him? He admitted to smoking a cigarette as he looked down on her. He said he prayed for her. He said there was nothing else he could do. He wanted to tell someone but couldn’t. He feared what they would do to him.

I asked why he didn’t phone it in anonymously. He said he was worried they’d find him.

I have spoken to Ruben Lucero multiple times. To the best of my knowledge, the man has never lied to me.

He told me the ugly stuff when nobody else would listen.

He also told me he didn’t hurt Maggie Marshall.

And I believe him.

He claims he was framed.

And I believe that too.

Why?

When Detective Declan Shaw initially walked the Maggie Marshall crime scene, he made an audio recording. Without mentioning titles, he stated three textbooks were found in her backpack. Her backpack, currently sitting in the NYPD evidence locker, contains only two textbooks.

Detective Declan Shaw made a similar audio recording when he walked Lucero’s apartment. He found Lucero’s “souvenir” books and read off many of the titles. He made no mention of one calledUnderstanding Anatomy and Physiology, a book police later said they found in Lucero’s apartmentwith the others. A book they claimed had belonged to Maggie Marshall.

Why do I believe Lucero is innocent?

Maggie Marshall’s prints are on that book.

Lucero’s are not.

Only the police had access to Maggie’s backpack when it was found by her body.

Only Detective Declan Shaw.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

THE DRIVE UPSTATE to Dannemora takes a little over five hours. By the time Cordova gets inside the correctional facility, it’s after four.

Ruben Lucero looks rough.

Cordova hasn’t seen him since the trial, and he appears to have aged a decade. His thinning hair, shaved close to his scalp, is gray at the temples. His former baby face is now impressed with deep lines. There’s a cut on his right cheek, maybe a week or two old, repaired with sloppy black infirmary stitches. The skin surrounding his left eye is the deep yellow of a partially healed bruise. As a convicted sex offender, the murderer of a fourteen-year-old child, and a generallycreepy asshole, Lucero, Cordova knows, spends much of his time in protective custody. Even in prison, there’s a pecking order, a hierarchy of social classes, and sex offenders, particularly those with an eye for the young, are on the lowest rung, targeted by all the others.

Lucero is sitting behind one-inch-thick ballistic glass, stained and smeared with God knows what, his head tilted to the side, eyes nothing but slits. Cordova takes the seat opposite him, plucks the phone receiver from the wall on his left, and brings it close enough to his face to speak without letting it touch his skin. It smells like stale onions and sweat.

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