Sylvia - XI: A Way to Tell a Story

What seems madness to a detached observer can have a strange banality to those living within it. 

Consider the subjective experiences of those residing at 3850 East New York Street in the autumn of 1965.  Homework, afterschool jobs, and the casual, almost offhanded tormenting of a housemate.  Everyone sitting down for supper after getting their licks in on Sylvia.  The neighborhood kids casually hanging around the living room after school while Sylvia is bullied into stripping in front of them and violating herself with an empty soda bottle.  Mrs. Lepper dropping by to visit Gertrude accompanied by Randy, who is “dressed as a girl,” commiserating with Gertie over the bad rash covering her face.  Gertie’s arrest for defrauding a paper boy.  The supposed burglary attempt by the neighbor man in the other unit of the Baniszewski double.  Marie and Jenny raking leaves to earn pocket money while Sylvia slowly expires in the basement.  The unadorned transcripts of the witnesses’ testimony leaves the first time reader a trifle disoriented, as if we have pitched forward and fallen through the looking glass into a world of nonchalant horror.  How could any of this have seemed normal to anyone of sound mind?

There are two morals to be learned from Sylvia Likens’ death.  One is that the nuclear family, so valorized in our culture, can be a cloak for exploitation, abuse, and neglect.  Another is that an absence of a strong community can put individual members at risk of being victimized.

The mob which tortured and killed Sylvia exemplify an extreme twist on in-group morality.  Social cohesion depends upon distinguishing insiders from outsiders and who is allowed in the group.  There is a survival imperative in this dynamic dating back to pre-civilization.  But it also gives a psychological boost to those doing the excluding.  You see, it’s fun to exclude others.  It heightens your own sense of superiority.  When Sylvia arrived in Gertrude Baniszewski’s home she presented a dual threat to Gertrude.  First, she was an extra mouth to feed in an already crowded house.  Secondly, her youth and attractiveness made her implicit competition for an aging woman who liked to flirt with the neighborhood boys.  Gertrude would neutralize Sylvia’s perceived threat by universalizing it to include her family, followed by giving license to her children and the other kids hanging about the house to mistreat Sylvia.  

Prosecutor Leroy New told the jury in his summation that the first obligation of the defendants had been to leave Sylvia Likens alone.  Such a simple charge, to refrain from doing something.   And yet they could not.  The Baniszewskis had a poor sense of boundaries.  Because Gertrude and her children did not respect themselves, they could not respect others.  Destroying Sylvia was an expression of their nihilistic worldview.  Her prettiness and sweet disposition were at odds with the ugliness of their daily reality and they resented her for it.  Despite their shared indigence, her life held promise while theirs did not. 

Culpability lies with each of the Baniszewski children, except for baby Denny and perhaps little Jimmy. Paula and Johnny were responsible for the worst of the punishment.  Stephanie’s involvement was minimized at trial so her testimony would win convictions; she was probably as responsible for Sylvia’s death as the other two siblings.  The younger ones played their own part in their mother’s plan.  Marie brought the urine for Sylvia to drink.  Shirley heated the sewing needle Ricky Hobbs used to tattoo Sylvia. 

Perhaps Stephanie was right when she told reporters if her mother and siblings hadn’t killed Sylvia they would have eventually turned on her instead.  I can see this.  Stephanie and I each occupied similar positions in our respective families.  (Note well: This is the only time I will ever compare myself to any Baniszewski.)  Like Stephanie, I was the smart kid in a socially marginal family.  My functionally illiterate and emotionally unstable mother was, needless to say, unsympathetic to my scholastic aspirations.  I was also frequently scapegoated by her for things I either did not do or which were beyond my control.  I got out as soon as I could and got myself as far away from her as I could.

I think the “crab mentality” was as prevalent in the Baniszewski family as it was in mine.  Any attempt to climb out of the bucket would be met by being seized and dragged back down by the other crabs.  I don’t admire Stephanie’s selling out her mother, sister, and brother to escape, particularly since she was undoubtedly as guilty as they, but I understand it. 

In the half century since Sylvia’s murder the Baniszewskis perfected the art of hiding in plain sight.  John, Sr., his name tarnished by the actions of his ex-wife and children, changed it to Blake.  His younger children also adopted the new name. 

Once released from prison, Paula left Indiana for Iowa after marrying.  Gertrude joined her there after she was paroled.  Paula managed to keep a low profile until 2012 when her identity and role in the Likens murder was discovered.  Someone who knew of the crime stumbled across Paula’s Facebook page.  She was fired from her position as a high school classroom aide in the wake of public outrage. 

Gertrude never did fully admit to her role in Sylvia’s death and persisted with her claim she was unaware of her children’s actions.  At her 1985 parole hearing she gave that peculiar expression of regret so common in our culture, the non-apology apology.  Gertrude admitted responsibility for the death of “that girl,” mostly avoiding mention of Sylvia’s name.  Apparently that was sufficient for the parole board, which voted 3-2 to let her go.

Johnny was the only participant in Sylvia’s murder who ever expressed any remorse after being “born again,” though his sincerity is questionable given how the Baniszewskis wore their religion on their sleeve.  (In a 1998 interview Johnny remarked that Sylvia died because “she was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” as if Sylvia was the victim of some random act of God.)  After attending Baptist Bible College in Missouri, Jerry Falwell’s alma mater, Johnny worked as a lay minister and sold real estate.  He died in 2005. 

Little is publicly known of Marie, Shirley, and Jimmy after the trial.

Dennis Wright, Jr., an infant at the time of the murder, was placed in foster care and eventually adopted.  While his adoptive family was harsh towards him growing up, Denny by all accounts did his very best to live a good life.  He died in 2012 leaving behind a wife and children. 

Stephanie, in contrast with her other siblings, has been quite visible particularly on social media.  Unlike for Paula this hasn’t had any meaningful repercussions for her.  Several years ago Stephanie, reportedly a retired schoolteacher living in Florida, posted a story about Sylvia to her MySpace page titled “Silly and Me.”  The story has made the rounds of the Sylvia tribute sites to predictable outrage.

Although she did not testify to this at trial Stephanie claimed she actually first met Sylvia when they attended kindergarten together in the 1950s.  They became fast friends even though Sylvia was a year and a half older than Stephanie.  The two became so close they had pet names for each other; Sylvia was “Silly” and Stephanie was “Stessy” (because little Sylvia said her name with a lisp).  They would play house together after school with a couple of neighborhood boys.  Sylvia would hold and comfort Stephanie after her epileptic fits even though the other kids made fun of Stephanie over them.  They remained close until Sylvia moved away at the end of the year.

Let’s pause for a moment before I go on.  I don’t know if Stephanie appreciates the irony of a story in which she, one of the gang that bullied and tortured Sylvia Likens to death, claims Sylvia comforted her after she was bullied when they were little girls. 

Of course, Stephanie would say that this is her point: “I loved Sylvia.  I couldn’t possibly have hurt her.”  (Which creepily sounds an awful lot like the alibis offered up by men who kill their wives and girlfriends.)   The Silly n’ Stessy story is offensive because it is a brazen attempt at whitewashing Stephanie’s own culpability by diverting attention from it.  Stephanie admitted to participating in the abuse on the stand, although what she admitted to in exchange for going free had to have been a watered-down version of what she actually did.   

So, why didn’t she mention their childhood friendship earlier?  Stephanie explained that trial evidence is not intended to elicit irrelevant information, which is true enough.  Perhaps Leroy New was aware of the alleged prior relationship and opted to leave it out.  If it was omitted it wouldn’t be subject to cross-examination by the defense and so it did not come out at the time.  But why are we learning about this nearly fifty years after the trial?  Stephanie claims she had never followed the coverage of the Likens case after the first trial ended until just a few years ago.  She said she was shocked by how she was depicted in the various news articles and books about the murder and simply wanted to defend herself. 

Apparently there are folks who question or downplay the Baniszewskis’ guilt, and Stephanie has a coterie of online supporters.  Stephanie has also had exchanges with those who feel she should have been tried and convicted with the rest of the defendants.  Replying to the moderator of a Sylvia memorial website who challenged her story, Stephanie asserted that she had been “exonerated” back in 1966 and had nothing to explain or justify.  Of course having the charges against you dropped in exchange for your testimony is hardly exoneration.  It is because so much of the prosecution’s case against Gertrude and the others depended on Jenny Likens’ testimony and another material witness was needed from the Baniszewski household that Stephanie got the deal she did.  No matter the official denials a deal by any other name is still a deal.

But wait, there’s more.  In the aforementioned exchange between Stephanie and the moderator, Stephanie accused her of distracting attention from present day social problems.  Stephanie wrote that if people really wanted to honor Sylvia’s memory they should help vulnerable youth such as teenage prostitutes.  That got a reaction.  Most of the online commentary over that remark found it disturbingly redolent of the “I’m a prostitute and proud of it!” tattoo Sylvia’s murderers burned into her belly.  It would be much more appropriate to urge people to work on behalf of abused children and domestic violence victims, would it not?  But Stephanie simply stuck by her words and did not take them back.

Who knows whether the Silly n’ Stessy story is true.  Its credibility is in the eye of the beholder but please consider the source.  I find Stephanie the scariest of the Baniszewskis.  The others were as dumb as dirt and meaner than pit bulls.  Easy enough to recognize.  Stephanie is positively reptilian.  She combines the rotten moral core of the rest of her family with an articulate sociopathic charm.  But she’s a great storyteller, I’ll give her that. 

Stephanie also has a well-honed sense of drama noticeable during the Likens girls’ stay and beyond, as well as sharing Gertrude’s hypochondria.   Stephanie was frequently home sick from school during the sisters’ stay (and yet now claims ignorance of what was happening with Sylvia).  There are Stephanie’s supposed epileptic fits…or fainting spells, take your pick.   They always seemed to occur during the most tension laden moments in the Baniszewski house.   Gertrude wasn’t above leveraging her daughter’s health woes for attention’s sake, telling Rev. Roy Julian during one visit that she feared Stephanie had a brain tumor.  Asked about her state of health during the trial Stephanie complained of high blood pressure.  A brain tumor and high blood pressure?   Makes you wonder how she lived as long as she has.

There’s something else you should know about Stephanie—she’s sensitive.  John Dean notes several episodes in House of Evil in which Stephanie breaks down in tears over all the family discord.  Stephanie socked Sylvia in the jaw for spreading rumors, but she cried afterward.  She slapped Sylvia after the first Pepsi bottle incident, but she cried afterward.  She cried when she discovered Sylvia was dead, never mind her role in bringing about that death.  At every other critical juncture in the story we have Stephanie turning on the waterworks.  Almost at will…

I suppose what I (and quite a few other people) find most offensive is Stephanie’s repeated proclamations of faith and how she was “saved” and is therefore forgiven.  I won’t delve into the theology of fundamentalist Protestantism, but I find it difficult to understand how so many of its followers can use it to justify judging others while claiming to have their worst deeds washed clean because of it.  Some of the angriest, most vindictive people I have ever known were "saved," "born again" Christians.

But this can't be true in every case.  I am an atheist but I believe if your religious faith helps you become a better person then it is a good thing.  Sylvia was raised with similar beliefs and they surely helped shape her into the fine young person she was and would have been.  It’s when the same religion is used to justify hatred, bigotry, and abuse, or when people hide behind it to cover their misdeeds that I take exception.  Stephanie is not remorseful.  Accordingly, she should not be forgiven.  Not by God, not by man. 

Stephanie’s public profile has had me musing over the legal consequences she escaped in 1966.  The state had initially sought a first-degree murder conviction and the death penalty for all the principal defendants including Stephanie.  But consider: The Marion County Prosecutor’s Office and Stephanie both denied that the charges against her were to be dropped in exchange for her testimony.  It would follow, then, that there is no enforceable written agreement binding on the state.  There is no statute of limitations on first-degree murder, but being that only Gertrude was convicted of this charge it would make the possibility of a new indictment on this charge remote.  (Also, if indicted for first-degree murder Stephanie would not be eligible for the death penalty since she was a juvenile at the time of the crime per the U.S. Supreme Court’s holding in Roper v. Simmons.) 

That leaves the possibility of a new indictment on charges of voluntary manslaughter, assuming that the fact a jury was empaneled before her severance from the other defendants in 1966 doesn’t invoke double jeopardy.  But let’s say double jeopardy doesn’t apply.  There is another matter to consider.  Normally Indiana’s statute of limitations for this offense is five years, which means under ordinary circumstances Stephanie would have been out of the woods by 1970. 

However Indiana law apparently allows certain situations where the circumstances of the case merit no time limit on prosecution.  A particularly grotesque torture-murder of a child would certainly qualify, no?  Even if Stephanie was only sentenced to time served for her stint in jail before and during the ’66 trial at least she would be assessed her share of responsibility in Sylvia Likens’ death.  (A conviction would result in Stephanie losing her teaching credential, though since she is retired it probably would be a moot consequence.  But since she resides in Florida, a felony record would also lead to her losing certain civil rights such as the right to vote.  Icing on the cake.)

Ah, but the trial’s the thing.  Absent a guilty plea we would need a trial.  The Sixth Amendment affords the accused the right to confront her accusers.  The principal material witness, Jenny Likens, passed away years ago.  Johnny Blake, Coy Hubbard, and Ricky Hobbs are no longer alive.  The detectives who investigated the crime are long since deceased.  The coroners Drs. Kebel and Ellis have both shuffled off this mortal coil.  So many other witnesses, among them Lester and Betty Likens, Randy Lepper, Anna Siscoe, Mike Monroe, Darlene McGuire, and the Rev. Roy Julian are no longer here to speak.  Just as importantly it is probable that save for the crime scene and autopsy photos any evidence collected was destroyed or lost long ago.  So, we are left with a tantalizing possibility forever beyond our reach.  Stephanie will go to her grave having gotten away with it.

I’m not sure which is worse, denial of responsibility or a blatant lack of remorse.  When asked about his relationship with Sylvia, Ricky Hobbs shrugged and said he didn’t know her very well.  Hobbs showed the same nonchalance when he testified at Gertrude’s 1971 retrial a few years after he had finished his own prison sentence.  Terminally ill with cancer and recovering from surgery, Ricky was a trifle irritable on the stand.  Questioned about his responsibility for the “I’m a prostitute” tattoo Ricky answered, “What difference does it make now?”  Quite a lot, actually.

Coy Hubbard, who probably struck the head blow that led to Sylvia’s death, remained in Indianapolis after he was released from prison.  Went back inside for a while for armed robbery.  Accused of the murder of two men in the late 1970s but never convicted.  Didn’t even change his name like the Baniszewskis.  Had the unmitigated gall to name his son after himself.  Complained bitterly when he was let go from his mechanic’s job after An American Crime came out.  Died at age 57.  No loss to the world.

Some of the surviving supporting players in Sylvia’s murder resurface periodically, bearing tales.  After Jenny died an article ostensibly about her appeared in The Weekly View, an Indianapolis community paper.  The article was actually about Judy Duke, one of the neighborhood kid-mob who tormented Sylvia. 

The article claimed Judy’s only involvement with the case was her friendship with Jenny, a relationship no one had heard of until then.  Judy said she protected the disabled Jenny from bullies at school.  The first time she noticed Sylvia at the Baniszewski home was at a birthday party.  Sylvia was supposedly confined to the basement by this point.  In Judy’s telling, Sylvia (or, “the naked girl” as Judy insisted on referring to her) came upstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a slice of cake from Judy’s plate and stuffed it in her mouth.  In retaliation Gertrude pushed Sylvia back down the basement stairs.  Judy saw “the naked girl” two more times and said she was disturbed by the abuse.

How strange.  It’s like listening to Germans who lived through the 1930s and 40s.  None of them supported the Nazis or bore any ill will against Jews.  Not a one.  Judy’s self-serving denial of her role in Sylvia’s death makes my skin crawl, as does her repeated failure to refer to Sylvia by name.  Unsurprisingly, Judy described herself as a born-again Christian.  The weeks she spent in jail after Sylvia’s death were in Judy’s memory an effort on the prosecution’s part to protect a witness.  (Judy was initially charged with injury to person.  That’s why she was in jail.  This reporter was awfully credulous.  He amusingly described Judy as a “precocious 12 year old” in 1965.  John Dean, on the other hand, described her as having a “lagging IQ.”) 

Toward the article end Judy was asked about the fate of her good friend Jenny Likens.  Judy didn’t know.  She thought Jenny had been adopted by one of the trial attorneys or something like that. 

Or something like that.  For each of the participants in Sylvia’s murder Sylvia and Jenny seem little more than furniture in their self-interested accounts.  I don’t understand why Judy agreed to an interview.  Most of the others, save for Johnny, never spoke publicly of what happened in the Baniszewski home in the fall of 1965.  Perhaps the only positive thing I can say about Paula is that at least at some point her dim intellect grasped she had actually done something wrong and thereafter opted to keep her damn piehole shut.  

It is very difficult to think of the Baniszewskis as being any kind of family in the proper sense.  I think back to the anonymous doctor’s disdainful comment to John Dean that the Likens were “trash.”  No, they were just poor.  Lester and Betty worked hard to keep the family afloat.  They were generally law abiding people who loved their children.  They did not flout community mores. 

By contrast the Baniszewskis conducted themselves like animals.  John, Sr. was a thug with a lawman’s badge and a deadbeat dad to boot.  Gertrude was a wheezing hag with an unsavory taste for young boys.  Paula was a tramp and a bully.  It wasn’t poverty that made the Baniszewskis trash; it was their lack of character and their foul behavior.  The poverty defense, as Leroy New aptly stated, does not wash.  As with us all there were choices for them to make and it is self-evident the Baniszewskis chose poorly every time. 

In the end the Baniszewski children and their friends were Gertrude’s willing accomplices.  And in the end Sylvia’s torture and murder laid bare a singular irony:  Gertrude failed at the very thing she relied upon as the bedrock of her identity, motherhood.   

© 2015 The Unassuming Scholar