invented a crime scene in Connecticut so that the Leslie Shelley and April Brunais murders would not appear to have been perpetrated in another stateâespecially one without a death penalty. Michael wanted to get Malchik on the stand; Michael Malchik was the liar, not Michael Ross. He would not rest until Malchik and Satti had been âexposed.â Getting âthe truth outâ was more important to him than living. I could not comprehend why sparing his life wasnât more important than what appeared to be his need for revenge.
When we hung up, my hands and arms were shaking. I was soaked in perspiration, although I was sitting in a drafty building in the dead of winter. As Ann began to talk more about Michaelâs family history, I started to calm down. Putting him in the context of a family made him more human.
Ann told me that Dan Ross visited or called Michael on his birthday and at Christmas. âHis father seemed to care about him during his first trialâbuy clothes for him. His mother, Pat, had nothing to do with him. She changed her nameâdisavows that sheâs his mother.â At the first trial, evidence had been introduced to show that Pat had been psychologically abusive, but she couldnât stand the fact that everyone was trying to blame her for Michaelâs problems. As Michael would later tell me, she said she âdidnât want to be the goatâ at the trial. Ann said that during the penalty phase Pat even helped the prosecution refute testimony of the other family members about her.
After such a close encounter with Michael, I was soothed by the cold winter air as I left Annâs office. I wasnât sure whether I felt sorry for Michael or thought he was just a prisoner trying to manipulate me.Throughout my career, I had encountered many self-proclaimed innocents who wanted to tell me how they had been framed by the system. I knew from experience that one had to be cautious about whom and what to believe. Yet two distinct pictures of Michael Ross were emerging. One was a ruthless killer, and the other was a very sick but sorry man. It was my job as a journalist to try to reconcile the two. Itâs a process that has always reminded me of the story about the blind men and the elephant. Each of the blind men describes a different part of the elephantâthe trunk, the tail, the leg, etc. All of the descriptions are accurate, and yet all are also wrong because no one has the big picture.
5
NEW CANAAN AND SOMERS, CONNECTICUT
WINTERâSPRING 1996
Two weeks after the first phone call with Ann, I was placed on Michaelâs phone list and received word from the Department of Correction that I would be allowed two visits and an extended phone call from a phone that was not tape-recorded by the state. It had taken more than six months to secure. Beginning on February 15, 1996âoddly enough, my birthdayâMichael and I began what would become weekly and, by the end, daily phone conversations. Before the first call, I was even more fearful. Now I was alone. No Ann to protect me.
Michaelâs openness was eerie. He talked of the murders with detachment, almost as if someone else had committed them. But he sounded on the verge of tears when talking about issues he deemed important, such as his remorse, his concern for the victimsâ families, the unfairness of his first trial, or proving his mental illness. Yet he never allowed me to forget his crimes. In one of our first telephone conversations, he said, âI donât want you to start to feel sorry for Michael Ross. Think about how you would feel if one of your daughters had been one of my victims.â I had thought of that, and I knew my instinct would have been to wring his neck myself. âWhenever you look at me, you have to remember that there are eight bodies behind me. I killed those women, and I did nothing to stop myself for three years. And because of that,Iâm guilty. When
When we hung up, my hands and arms were shaking. I was soaked in perspiration, although I was sitting in a drafty building in the dead of winter. As Ann began to talk more about Michaelâs family history, I started to calm down. Putting him in the context of a family made him more human.
Ann told me that Dan Ross visited or called Michael on his birthday and at Christmas. âHis father seemed to care about him during his first trialâbuy clothes for him. His mother, Pat, had nothing to do with him. She changed her nameâdisavows that sheâs his mother.â At the first trial, evidence had been introduced to show that Pat had been psychologically abusive, but she couldnât stand the fact that everyone was trying to blame her for Michaelâs problems. As Michael would later tell me, she said she âdidnât want to be the goatâ at the trial. Ann said that during the penalty phase Pat even helped the prosecution refute testimony of the other family members about her.
After such a close encounter with Michael, I was soothed by the cold winter air as I left Annâs office. I wasnât sure whether I felt sorry for Michael or thought he was just a prisoner trying to manipulate me.Throughout my career, I had encountered many self-proclaimed innocents who wanted to tell me how they had been framed by the system. I knew from experience that one had to be cautious about whom and what to believe. Yet two distinct pictures of Michael Ross were emerging. One was a ruthless killer, and the other was a very sick but sorry man. It was my job as a journalist to try to reconcile the two. Itâs a process that has always reminded me of the story about the blind men and the elephant. Each of the blind men describes a different part of the elephantâthe trunk, the tail, the leg, etc. All of the descriptions are accurate, and yet all are also wrong because no one has the big picture.
5
NEW CANAAN AND SOMERS, CONNECTICUT
WINTERâSPRING 1996
Two weeks after the first phone call with Ann, I was placed on Michaelâs phone list and received word from the Department of Correction that I would be allowed two visits and an extended phone call from a phone that was not tape-recorded by the state. It had taken more than six months to secure. Beginning on February 15, 1996âoddly enough, my birthdayâMichael and I began what would become weekly and, by the end, daily phone conversations. Before the first call, I was even more fearful. Now I was alone. No Ann to protect me.
Michaelâs openness was eerie. He talked of the murders with detachment, almost as if someone else had committed them. But he sounded on the verge of tears when talking about issues he deemed important, such as his remorse, his concern for the victimsâ families, the unfairness of his first trial, or proving his mental illness. Yet he never allowed me to forget his crimes. In one of our first telephone conversations, he said, âI donât want you to start to feel sorry for Michael Ross. Think about how you would feel if one of your daughters had been one of my victims.â I had thought of that, and I knew my instinct would have been to wring his neck myself. âWhenever you look at me, you have to remember that there are eight bodies behind me. I killed those women, and I did nothing to stop myself for three years. And because of that,Iâm guilty. When
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