How to Catch a Liar

It’s not that hard to tell when someone is lying. The problem is the speed the tell passes across their face, and whether anyone else besides me catches it before it disappears. It might be the flicker of a smirk, a challenge of the eyes, or a stiff expression, but then it’s gone, poof! It all happens so fast that the untrained eye will undoubtedly miss it. That’s when the liar can start to relax and enjoy themselves, safe in the knowledge that they’re getting away with it.

That’s what they’re telling you, isn’t it? That I’m not trusted to see it on my own anymore. Not after what happened in Hoboken back in 2016.

Sure, there are the obvious tells that most laymen can spot. You’ve got the shifty eyes, the scripted talking, or the hard swallow because their mouth is drier than those investigator meetings we’re forced to sit through at the precinct. I kid you not, that last one is often key because the adrenaline spike from their lying sucks all the saliva clean out of their mouth. You see it all the time during interviews, especially when politicians are given a question they’d rather dodge. Watch them reach for their glass and guzzle it down before they answer. When our Governor took to the stage after the IRS scandal, he swigged from his glass so hard that he almost choked. Turns out it was carbonated. Regardless of whether his PA sabotaged him or not, he was out before the fall.

I get it. Not everyone drinking water is a liar, and that crook had what was coming to him. That’s not all I’m saying. Listen, those small signals add up. You gotta check what they’re doing matches up with the words coming out. Take this example. Elizabeth Holmes, you know her, the one banged up for Theranos. Yeah, that interview of hers is doing the rounds. There’s that one scene in the teaser when she’s lying to the guy, right in his face, while she’s smiling and her eyes are popping so wide her eyebrows are up here. It’s creepy as hell. Her face looks like a mannequin. So while she’s saying, and you can’t make this up, ‘Of course I’m not deceiving you,’ her face is literally saying otherwise. And look, if you cover the top half of her face, then the bottom, it’s like she’s stitched together two expressions. It’s not natural, because we are not born liars. Our species depends on us telling the truth, always has, always will.

What’s that? Lie detection is only accurate 54% of the time? That’s some nice Googling. Where’s that from? The BBC? Well, those stats can bite my ass because I’m more in the 85% accuracy range myself. You really think we’re no better off than flipping a coin? We’re finetuned to spot liars, it’s in our DNA. It’s tribal. Those micro-expressions we see that last not even a second, hell, even a blind person can tell if someone’s voice is getting strained. You ever noticed how someone’s voice jumps up a pitch when they’re desperate for you to believe something?

I’m not getting worked up. I’m tired of having to explain myself over and over. This is nothing like Hoboken. I’ve proven myself and then some over the past decade.

Look, it’ll be obvious when you hear what I’m about to say. You saw the tapes of Larry Walker, I’m guessing? Right. And did you notice how his story was strictly chronological? One of the main tells is that when a story is made-up, fabricated, whatever you wanna call it, it’s set in stone. The liar rehearses telling it, adding details here and there, but the framework is set. That’s why other detectives might try to be clever and say, ‘Tell it backwards.’ Same principle as the breathalyzer and saying the alphabet backwards. Huh? You’re telling me you had to walk backwards for a DUI? They’ll let anyone be a cop these days. No, no, that wasn’t a shot at you. It’s just in my day you had to be squeaky clean from the get-go. I certainly was.

Anyway, on the tape, that guy Larry Walker is laying on the details real thick. Initially, he repeats each question they serve up to buy himself more time to think. But he’s clearly done his homework, knows all the subway times and the roads leading to the deli where it took place. He’s settling into it, you see him with his arm round the back of the chair, cocksure and getting into his stride. He’s working both investigators, holding their gaze and switching back and forth. But then he misfires. Gets the times mixed up. And what does he do? He starts back from the beginning, just as he’d practiced. I’m telling you, if I was in that room, I would’ve jumped on him right then and there. Squeezed him for the exact time, pressed him for the details, stretched out those grey areas until he buckled and confessed. But no, old McCarthy lets it slide. By the time he remembers and comes back around to it, the story has been straightened out. It’s fireproof again.

That’s not all. Did you notice how much Larry banged on about the mutz they sold at that place? I don’t know about you, but I’ve never heard of anyone talk about mozzarella for that long. Your nonna does? Well, sure. But this guy? He’s got no business knowing that much about it. His credit check showed he’d been to the place one time. One! Unless you believe him about using cash. Shame they don’t have CCTV in there to prove he’s full of it. Paper dollars are a dying breed, anyway. I don’t know anyone that goes around with notes these days. I’m telling you, these are hard times for your average mugger on the street. That’s why they switched to phones. It’s easy to blackmail someone these days, once you get into their photo albums or see the pictures or sordid messages they send to each other. No wonder everyone’s always clutching them like the family pearls, the things they have on there!

Back to the mutz. That’s his main alibi, right? He was there, buying his salami and pastrami and whatever else. Then, it just so happens that an ex-associate of his, Bill Deakins, ends up there on the same day, at the same time. Not talked to each other for years. Then minutes later, without a single word exchanged between them, Bill ends up dead across the counter. Heart attack, just like that. The pathology lab is saying no foul play. I’m telling you, I’m not buying it.

So when the story don’t add up, you gotta hunt for the clues. It’s pretty cut and dry in this case as far as I can see. No, it’s nothing like the Hoboken case. Well, sure, there’s no firm evidence that would stand up in a court of law, not yet, but it’s written all over Larry Walker’s face.

That’s what I’ve been saying all along – the face should be held to account. Not just the face, either. You remember I mentioned Elizabeth Holmes, well that’s a prime example of someone trying to stop their expressions revealing their lie. They’re trying to hold it in, stop the leaking. But it comes out. The face might be held still, but you need to watch their hands, their feet. People do all sorts of things without thinking, subconscious movements, that give away their lie. Bouncing their leg up and down, tapping away, or rubbing their hands together. Then you’ve got the self-soothing gestures, touching the neck, the chest, rubbing the thigh. Get your head out of the gutter, this is serious. All of these moves are calming them down, keeping them steady as they spend every ounce of energy keeping their face still and their voice level.

Have you got the interview tapes? Bring up Larry Walker again. Fast-forward…stop! Back. There! Did you see it? He wiped the side of his nose. Right when he’s describing the moment he saw Deakins. He’s self-soothing. His heart rate is going up, knowing he’s getting to the bit where he has to lie. No, it’s not a coincidence. He didn’t suddenly get an itch at that exact moment.

This is nothing like Hoboken, you hear me? She was guilty. Everything about the way she described the crime stank. I knew it from the moment she was brought in. No one who walks away from a burning house, the sole survivor no less, knows nothing about how it happened. She might have said she was sleeping, but you think someone sleeps through that? The smoke, the cries for help? She had a hand in it, and my testimonial proved it. The way she spoke about that night, with that pretty half-smirk of hers, it was classic dissociation. She was enjoying the show. I swear she even moved her chair. There was a window in that interview room, you know, the ones with the reflective glass. Well, she angled her chair just so she could see herself. It was sick.

You don’t have to tell me she was released last week. The gas company has taken responsibility, some leaky tap according to them, but I don’t buy it. Why only come forwards now? She had a hand in it, I know she did. She might have played the innocent victim, but why was it only her that walked out of that building? Yes, she was on the ground floor, and might have suffered burns herself, but the fact is she lied. I know she did, and for a while, people believed me.

But now they’ve released her. Said my evidence didn’t hold up after all, that my interview techniques were questionable. The issue is, my colleagues could never see what was right in front of them. You have to listen to the words that hang in the air, feel their pulse race, watch out for the wrinkles by their eyes to work out what’s real and what’s manufactured.

This is different. Larry Walker did it. Period. Don’t ask me how, I don’t know what drug he managed to slip Deakins without laying a finger on him. The toxicology report came back blank, but some drugs go undetected don’t they. Traces that evaporate or get wiped clean. You know, there are some drugs that go into the body and break down into other things entirely. Ask the dope cheats by the athletics track downtown.

So maybe he snuck something into the samplers on the counter? We both know there are drugs that can bring on a heart attack. Was Bill Deakins on any heart meds? Did they tell you? Well, if he was, Walker could have easily put some Viagra on the freebie charcuterie board or whatever, and then, BAM! That could have happened. But they’ve chosen to keep me in the dark.

What was I doing that morning when Bill Deakins died? I was minding my own business, that’s what I was doing, walking along the riverfront. The time? Well, I had breakfast at 8:15, the same as I do every morning, a cup of OJ and a bowl of Apple Jacks. I took my mini Schnauzer out for his morning walk, he’s a real character, you know? He starts on every dog that’s bigger than him…

You know what? Get me a glass of water. Then we can start over.