In the world of the Criminal Court, where murder is common and armed robbery routine, some crimes stand out.
The victims are chosen at random. The violence is incredible, yet there was no money to gain, no particular anger to vent, no revenge to seek.
The facts of the cases are stated in the courtrooms: What the defendants did, when, where, to whom. Yet questions are left in the minds of those watching the trials: Why did they do it? How could anyone do it?
The defendants usually sit silently through their trials, revealing little. It is only after further investigation, whose results are sometimes presented at sentencing hearings, that the roots of their violence show.
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John Spires entered the juvenile justice system in 1964, a victim of child abuse. He graduated a violent criminal, class of `76.
Spires now is serving a 120-year prison sentence. He raped children.
When he was a child himself, 7 years old, John Spires slit his wrists in a suicide attempt and was admitted to Chicago State Hospital, say psychiatric records. It was the first of many suicide attempts and psychiatric hospitalizations.
When he was 9, Spires ran away from home with his 11-year-old sister. On July 8, 1964, Chicago`s American ran a story about it that called the children ”young vagabonds” and said they ”had spent their days in Riverview Amusement Park, had slept in hallways, had stolen a woman`s purse and picked a man`s wallet, and had a steady diet of hot dogs and hamburgers.”
It didn`t tell of how their parents had beaten them or how they had been chained to their beds. Or of the times they were yanked from their sleep by their father-a violent alcoholic-or locked in closets by their mother or sexually abused by their uncle.
Child abuse, in those days, wasn`t a public issue.
The brief item did say that John and Jean were taken to the Audy home for juvenile delinquents. But there was no follow-up story about how Spires, at age 9, was sexually assaulted by the older, tougher boys there.
Many times the police picked up John and Jean, sometimes with their younger sister, Marie, who said she first ran away with them when she was about 6.
”We would sleep on roofs,” said Marie (both sisters asked that their real names not be used). ”One time we slept in a hot dog stand and one time- the scariest time-was when we slept in a hole in the ground where they were doing construction.”
John Spires seemed to be his parents` favorite target, his sisters said.
”The kid could do no right,” Jean said, ”no matter what he did.”
Spires` first crime was theft. His crimes became violent when he turned 21.
It was then that Spires committed two rapes: one of an 11-year-old girl, the other of a 16-year-old. He was convicted, served three years in prison and was released, more violent than ever.
Within a year and a half, he committed four more rapes: all of schoolgirls aged 12 or 13. Before police suspected him, Spires went to a psychiatrist named Andrew Pundy, ”asking for brain surgery in order to stop his compulsion to rape,” according to a psychiatric report.
Spires told the psychiatrist that he was haunted by fantasies of rape.
”I was obsessed,” Spires said in an interview at Menard Prison, where he is serving his term.
Spires asked for a lobotomy. Pundy didn`t agree but began to treat him. At the same time, Spires asked his family members to watch him-to make sure he didn`t leave the house alone.
As time passed, police began to suspect that Spires had committed the rapes. He was eventually arrested and convicted of four counts of aggravated criminal sexual assault. In Courtroom 506 of the Criminal Court, Spires watched as the girls testified against him.
”I wanted to try to make them feel better, let them know it wasn`t them, that it wasn`t their fault, that I was sorry,” he said. ”But I couldn`t. I listened to them. I thought, `Is that really me they`re talking about?`. . . I really wanted to get under the table and just hide.”
Today, Spires is a soft-spoken young man who talks with a bland melancholy about regrets that came far too late. ”I feel like an animal,” he said. ”I feel like I should be taken out in the morning and shot.”
To Jean and Marie, their brother John is more sick than criminal. Both women said they went through long-term therapy themselves to overcome the psychological damage done during their childhoods.
Jean was agoraphobic; for a year, she wouldn`t leave her home, fearful of the outside world. Marie suffered anxiety attacks, rushing to hospital emergency rooms when her breath got short and her heart pounded so wildly that she thought she would die. There was nothing physically wrong with her; it was old fears from the abuse, coming back.
”I have a daughter, and if someone raped her, I would want to kill him,” Jean said. ”But John is my brother. And I feel if he had gotten help when he was younger, maybe he wouldn`t do the things he`s done.”
While his victims testified in court, Spires wondered what he had done to their lives.
”I remember things that happened in my past and I know what it did to me and prayed I didn`t (do the same thing to them),” he said. ”I hope they have their lives together, working and in a relationship-a loving relationship-that I didn`t mess anything like that up for them. A lot of times I`ve wondered how they`re doing. I thought of writing them a letter, but every time I brought it up, someone said, `Are you crazy?`. . . It`d probably scare them just to hear from me. They probably wish I was dead.”
Judge Thomas Hett gave Spires a 240-year prison term, which was later reduced to 120 years. Spires, 33, could be released after serving 60 years, if he lives that long.
Spires first was sent to Stateville Prison. The picture on his prisoner identification card shows him with two black eyes; his fellow prisoners also hate the crime of child rape.
”In Stateville, I got jumped, in fights all the time because of the crime itself,” Spires said. ”I figure it was all part of the punishment. It`s probably the worst thing you can do. I`d rather be here for murder.”
Now, in the relative calm of Menard prison`s psychiatric unit, Spires is no longer the victim of other inmates` violence.
”I`m comfortable in here,” he said, ”because I know I can`t hurt nobody.”
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Society made its feelings known during a Criminal Court sentencing hearing when Spires was ordered to prison, virtually for life.
A sentencing hearing, held after a defendant has been found guilty of a crime, is generally the last procedure a defendant goes through at the Criminal Court building at 26th Street and California Boulevard. His fate-probation, a prison term or a death sentence-is decided at this stage.
A judge or jury must consider the defendant`s background before deciding on the punishment, so they often learn things that don`t come out during trials.
Defense lawyers present ”mitigation,” reasons that a sentence should be lenient. Prosecutors present ”aggravation,” reasons that a sentence should be harsh.
Sometimes a criminal`s violence seems to defy explanation, as if the person were born evil. But often, the hearing reveals a cycle that begins-and ends-with violence.
When defense lawyers argue for light sentences, they often contend that the violence the defendants suffered in the past caused their present violence. Furthermore, they argue that their clients therefore weren`t responsible for what they did.
But judges, juries-and the law-rarely accept that. Each person, the law says, is responsible for himself. His past may explain; it doesn`t excuse.
Throughout the murder trial of Keith Hoddenbach, any real explanation for Hoddenbach`s hateful act remained mysterious. He walked into Max`s Red Hots, a near Northwest Side hot-dog stand where children were playing video games, and opened fired with a pump shotgun as the youngsters dove for cover.
A street-gang member, Hoddenbach was after a rival. Instead, he murdered a 15-year-old Mexican immigrant named Santos Martinez and injured three others.
His violence was heinous and random; at the sentencing hearing, his lawyer tried to explain it.
The lawyer, Daniel Murray, presented evidence that Hoddenbach`s father was an alcoholic who beat his wife and children so badly that the kids once jumped from a second-floor window to escape. Hoddenbach`s inner fury solidified when his father raped his sister, who had been very close to him, evidence showed.
”Rather than having support and love, you had violence and hate,” Judge Roger Kiley Jr. told Hoddenbach. ”The violence that was in your family became part of your bone marrow.”
Hoddenbach`s past didn`t persuade Kiley to be lenient. ”Society has to be protected from you,” Kiley said, and gave Hoddenbach (who was not eligible for the death penalty) a 110-year prison term; he may be free again, if he lives to be 77.
Demetrius Henderson, another convicted murderer, is on Death Row awaiting execution. Henderson`s 15-page confession, introduced at his trial, is a nightmare of violence. He and another man were convicted of the rape and murder of Kimberly Boyd, a high school student who was repeatedly raped, stabbed more than 30 times and then run over by a car.
Again, the sentencing hearing revealed what the trial did not. Defense lawyer James Linn presented evidence of Henderson`s past: His father was dead- shot and killed before Henderson reached his 1st birthday. His grandfather was a convicted murderer.
His mother repeatedly flaunted her sexual promiscuity in front of her son; he also witnessed the constant abuse she endured from her string of lovers. Her son was exposed to it all, including the boasts of her most recent boyfriend, who taunted Henderson with details of the tawdry relationship he had with Henderson`s mother.
Prosecutors angrily argued that Henderson was ”dumping everything at the feet of his mother.”
In a recent interview, Judge Richard Neville said he found that Henderson`s past led to his crime. ”But I didn`t find it mitigating,” he said. ”It led me to believe he was incorrigible, there was so much rage built up in him.”
But in the bulk of criminal cases that seem senselessly violent, ”it appears to me from my 21 years of experience in this business that there is a connection between violence in your background and the violence you act out,” Neville said. ”It`s almost like a training process.”
For Spires, Hoddenbach and Henderson, the painful cycle of violence is complete. The streets are safe now from these men. But in a corner of the city, where violence is a way of life and a slap across the face substitutes for love, another boy is growing up. And some day he, too, may have his time in the Criminal Court.
Tuesday: Toughened regulars of the courtroom cast.
