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
