CONFIDENTIAL
The following are documents seized by the San Fernando Superior Courthouse as part of an ongoing Missing Persons Investigation (MPI) based out of Los Angeles County.
The name(s) of most involved parties have been redacted, due twofold to the high-profile nature of the case, and so as not to inhibit in any way the outstanding investigation.
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Item No. 21613
Type: Paper; Diary entry
*KEYWORD: “Phierson”
Dated: 11/13/2018
{
…
I decided to eat lunch with Mr. Phierson today because I wanted him to look over my 2nd reading response. He’s a super smart guy…it makes me wonder why he’s teaching here and not at some big university. I can’t wait to get out of here––I’d love to live in New York or Chicago. Mr. Phierson even said he used to live in Manhattan for a while when he was in his 20s and that he wrote plays. I asked him if he thought I would like it out there but he said probably not––“too dirty” for me, he said. We talked for a while, mostly about books, and I told him I’m interested in psychology. He perked up and said he had just the book, and lent me his own personal copy of Lord of the Flies. We don’t start reading it until January, but he insisted that it’d be right up my alley. I feel bad for Mr. Phierson––I think he eats lunch alone most days. My friends think he’s kinda weird, but…I don’t know, I think he’s sweet.
[REDACTED]2 is one to talk, anyway. She’s never even…
}
Item No. 21617
Type: Paper; Journal entry
*KEYWORD: “[REDACTED]1”
Dated: 11/16/2018
{
I began to wonder if I had been relegated to live in complete and utter isolation from any and all genuine connection.
I woke up everyday in what can only be described as a stupor, kindled in no small part by the mechanized routine which had become my lackluster existence.
But a spark–
Hail Sweet Mother Mary and Joseph! For now I find reason to wake!
As my wife struggles to fit into her size 32 Levis I find that I no longer loathe her.
Hatred and spite mask, becoming mere footnotes.
Her aging body is nothing, beyond a distraction.
I know it is horrible to say these things.
I know what love should be.
I KNOW the THINGS I THINK are PERVERTED and INSANE
I know my vows.
I made a promise.
I know nothing.
I know I am going to hell.
I know what I feel.
[REDACTED]1
Even writing down her name excites me!
[REDACTED]1
Never before have I felt such empirical affection–
Me as scientist
and her as specimen.
She is a perfect creature, with sculptural features carved marbly pearl.
Her eyes navy demarcate an adjunct sadness in which I know profound sympathy.
I admire the way she rolls her R’s and the way she parts her sun-blond hair ever-so-symmetrically down the middle, like so and anything but would be irrational.
She beams evanescent, not unlike a vessel predestined for something more significant than I.
While I know what I can not do
or be,
I am no judge like time.
[REDACTED]3 came home crying yesterday, citing the never-ending reign of lunchtime torment enlisted by his supposed “friend” and confidant, [REDACTED]4 ––a stupid name!
…
}
Item No. 21622
Type: Paper; Diary entry
*KEYWORD: “Phierson”
Dated: 12/10/2018
{
Today is Monday, December 10th, 2018. [REDACTED]5 FINALLY asked me to the winter formal! I’m so happy right now, I’m literally smiling writing this down. He’s just…so charming and warm and funny and I’m SO EXCITED!!! Nothing in the world could bring me down!!
It doesn’t feel real…I keep biting my finger to check. He’s coming over later today to watch a movie, and he recommended “Dazed and Confused.” I’ve never heard of it, but he said he thinks I would like it, and I trust him. I wasn’t even feeling the nerves until now…
[REDACTED]2 told me that once you break the “physical-contact barrier,” you’re basically in. So what I’m thinking is, I’ll set up our couch so the corners face inward, that way we’ll have no choice but to be extra close to each other when–
…
Oh my God, I almost forgot…after everything went down earlier, I ran into Mr. Phierson’s room to tell him the news. I think I rambled on for too long or something because he looked at me kinda funny. Then he asked me if I was “sure about this,” which was a bit unusual because he’s usually so supportive. I told him I was, then he said he just wants me to be safe. I couldn’t understand why he said that, but he told me he’s only looking out for me and that as a young woman, I must remember to “always be careful.” Ha! As if I didn’t already know that…I don’t know why he thinks I’d say yes to a guy who makes me feel unsafe, that would be stupid. But I guess I see where he’s coming from. Then he told me that he’s proud of me, and I think he really meant it. I was beaming. He asked me if I ever wanted to grab lunch with him sometime, maybe outside of school, and I told him yes––I’ve been thinking about what my mom said the other day, that I should start asking my teachers for letters of recommendation. It’s a little early, but I’m sure Mr. Phierson would––I hope it’s a good letter, too.
}
Item No. 21625
Type: Indentation on wall; scrawlings
Dated: 12/15/2018
{
I am a Sick Dog
Sick dog Sick dog Sick dog Sick Dog Sick dog sick Dog sick dog
god–––––
I am
a sick god
}
Item No. 21627
Type: Electronic Message
Dated: 12/16/2018
{
Mr. Phierson: Hey [REDACTED]1, how does lunch later today sound? (sent @ 10:46AM)
[REDACTED]1: Sounds good! I’m free after 1 (sent @ 11:17AM)
Mr. Phierson: Great, let’s do 2? Where do you wanna go…it’s my treat! (sent @ 11:19AM)
[REDACTED]1: Chick-fil-a? (sent @ 11:41AM)
Mr. Phierson: It’s Sunday 🙁 (sent @ 11:44AM)
[REDACTED]1: Ohh shit ur right haha (sent @ 11:56AM)
[REDACTED]1: How abt CPK? (sent @ 11:57AM)
Mr. Phierson: Ooh, I love CPK! Great choice (sent @ 12:00PM)
Mr. Phierson: Want me to pick you up at 1:45? (sent @ 12:02PM)
[REDACTED]1: Perfect (sent @ 12:33PM)
[REDACTED]1: [REDACTED]6 Blvd (sent @ 12:35PM)
[REDACTED]1: My gate code is [REDACTED]7 (sent @ 12:35PM)
}
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CONFIDENTIAL
Property of The Superior Court of Los Angeles County, San Fernando Courthouse
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INTERVIEWER: Coffee?
Carnagal: No, thanks.
INTERVIEWER: Alright then, I think we’ll just go ahead and get started. Would you state your name and occupation for the record?
Carnagal: Yeah, Andrew B. Carnagal. I’m a practicing specialty therapist, with my own office in Studio City.
INTERVIEWER: And what is your, uh…field of specialization?
Carnagal: Psychodynamics.
INTERVIEWER: Could you tell us a little bit about that?
Carnagal: Well, it stems from Freud’s work on the unconscious and repressed memories, but it’s sort of a more modern approach to it all. But what it means in layman’s terms is, essentially, I try to help people process their past. We comb through what’s under the surface, I suppose, to see how best we can help them cope with those things, and um…begin healing.
INTERVIEWER: Do most of your clients seek you out, specifically?
Carnagal: It’s not unusual.
INTERVIEWER: When and how did you first meet Richter Phierson?
Carnagal: It would’ve been, about 7 or 8 months ago now? He had scheduled an appointment with my secretary, and mentioned in the meeting notes that he was sick and, uh, needed to talk to an expert about some “issues” he was dealing with. But nothing out of the ordinary. We spoke for maybe half an hour––mostly about his childhood, growing up in Arkansas…rocky relationship with his step-father. Fairly standard dynamics. Seemed to help him, though. He said he’d be back again soon.
INTERVIEWER: How soon?
Carnagal: The following week, and each thereafter.
INTERVIEWER: Anything seem off at first?
Carnagal: No, I wouldn’t say so.
INTERVIEWER: And how long was it until he divulged to you, his, uh…affliction?
Carnagal: It was, uh…shit––sorry for the language, but I want to be precise.
INTERVIEWER: That’s alright.
Carnagal: Nearly two months to the day of our first meeting. December 13th, I think it was?––our last meeting. Obvious to me immediately was that something bothered him; he wasn’t responding like he usually did to my probing. We had developed a bit of a rapport, but…it was as if he were then utterly distracted. I kept it in mind while I prodded toward subjects he appeared hesitant to approach––in my field, it’s a general rule of thumb that those reluctant topics are where we find the most, um…cognitive meat. One such area of avoidance was his work––though he spoke at length of his love for literature and “the classics,” the joys of teaching, uh, as most educators do…yet it seemed, he did not particularly like to harp on his time at [REDACTED] High School. And it’s not at all uncommon for patients to gloss over their job, or other aspects of their professional life, if they feel like it’s not, really…pertinent to wrestling their psyche.
INTERVIEWER: So what, exactly, did he say?
Carnagal: He chose his words carefully. He said, “Going to [REDACTED] High is like going to war.” I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, and upon further inquiry, he became quite manic––rambling on about temptation and repentance for sins he refrained from committing. “Hail Mary, blessed be her name,” he repeated over and over and over again. I sat still and listened, intently now. After some minutes, he began to sob uncontrollably. He told me he hated himself. Then he asked if he could hug me, and um…our embrace lasted longer than I anticipated. He implored me to understand that he, uh…wasn’t always “like this.” I knew. I asked if he ever…acted on his desires. He reeled. “I would never…I’m sick, very very sick, but I would never.” He repeated it twice, exaggerating confidence. My gut believed him. I asked him, “Would you ever?” to which he shook his head vehemently. Left, right, in flawless symmetry. The fantasies couldn’t be helped––God offered him no respite, confessing in shame that he had yet to hear his voice. He begged for me to tell him what it sounded like; if he sounds familiar––I told him I don’t believe in God.
INTERVIEWER: Did he, in that moment or any other, strike you as an immediate threat to anyone’s safety?
Carnagal: No. It was certainly a judgment call, and confidentiality is legally gray with no actual crime admitted or committed…but, no.
INTERVIEWER: And did he at all mention the name [REDACTED]1?
Carnagal: No.
INTERVIEWER: Are you sure? Please, try and take a moment to think.
Carnagal: Yes.
INTERVIEWER: In hindsight, do you wish that you would have handled anything differently?
Carnagal: What the fuck do you think?
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