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they would. After he’d first gotten out of prison, she’d warned him that he’d always be a suspect, so he needed to be sure he had witnesses to verify his alibi when a girl went missing or was assaulted. “They’ll always look at you,” she had told him.
    Informing her that they needed to secure the house, the officers gave Cathy the option to sit on the couch and not move, or to leave. But if she left, they would have to take her to the sheriff’s station for an interview. She chose to stay on the couch with Jariah and her son, Alan* (pseudonym*).
    â€œYou can go and look,” Cathy said. “He’s not here.”
    They went room to room, finding no John and no Chelsea, until they came to a locked door. When Kevin wasn’t home, he left the door to his office locked because he kept expensive video equipment in there. The officers demanded that she open the door.
    â€œI don’t have a key,” she said.
    Cathy called Kevin, who said he could be home in fifteen or twenty minutes to open the door, but the detectives said they couldn’t wait that long, and broke it down.
    â€œDo you know where Chelsea is?” the detectives asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Cathy replied.
    â€œDo you know where John might have put her?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Around three forty-five, the detectives allowed Jariah to go outside to smoke a cigarette, while Cathy stayed inside with Alan. Cathy came outside to tell Jariah something, when they saw a guy walking down the street. Thinking it could be John, the cops took off running after him.
    Fearing it was John, Cathy was petrified that the police would fire their weapons at him. “My son is mentally ill,” she shouted. “Please don’t shoot him!”
    But it wasn’t him.
    The detectives persuaded Jariah to call John to see if he would tell her where he was, and he did: Hernandez’ Hideaway, a restaurant and bar on Lake Hodges. As soon as they got this information, two detectives jumped into their cars and sped off toward the restaurant, which was fifteen minutes away. Several other detectives kept searching the condo and watched over Cathy and Jariah.
    They’re going to kill him because he’s really out of his mind, Cathy thought. He’s going to run or he’ll mouth off and they’ll just shoot him, anyway.
    At one point, a tall detective came over and spoke to her in a tone she found quite threatening. “If you know something, you’d better tell us,” he said, jabbing his finger in the air at her.
    Cathy felt like her world was collapsing around her. She was not just tired of their questions, but she was also starting to become unglued. “I don’t know anything!” she screamed. “I’ve told you, I don’t know anything!”
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    The detectives didn’t tell Cathy they had arrested John at 4:16 P.M. on suspicion of rape and murder. Cathy only found out because her oldest daughter, Shannon, called from Los Angeles after seeing it on the news.
    â€œOh, my God, Mom, they’ve arrested John!” Shannon cried.
    But with the detectives sitting nearby, listening, Cathy didn’t want to say anything out loud. “I can’t talk,” she said, and hung up.
    Other family members called too, including John’s father’s family in Iowa, who had also seen the TV news stories. But Cathy didn’t pick up for the same reason. She was too upset to talk, anyway, so they left messages.
    â€œWe are praying for you,” said Mona*, one of John’s four half sisters.
    Shannon sent her sister Sarina a text message, Call me ASAP.
    She never sent texts, so Sarina was concerned and called her right away, but she couldn’t get through. So she called Cathy, who was quiet on the phone when she answered.
    â€œMomma, is something wrong?”
    â€œYes.” In shock, Cathy’s voice was clipped. “The police are