Inside the Scott Peterson trial

Catherine Crier has been covering the Peterson case since Laci Peterson disappeared from her home on December 24, 2002. Crier, a former judge and one of television's most popular legal analysts, was among the first to question the behavior of Laci's husband, Scott Peterson. And with her network of journalistic sources, Crier was soon able to penetrate the core of the police investigation that followed — gaining access to a huge and revealing body of previously unseen police reports, transcripts of recorded conversations, photographic evidence, and other exclusive materials. In her book, "A Deadly Game," Crier details what happened inside the police investigation of Scott Peterson. Here's an excerpt:

Introduction
Ever since Laci Peterson disappeared on December 24, 2002, and the public became galvanized by the story, people have asked me Why? Why was there so much interest in this single murder case? Why did it sustain our attention for so long? Women — even lovely, very pregnant women — go missing all too often in this country, and many of them are murdered. In fact, statistics show that homicide is the leading cause of death for pregnant women. And these deaths generally occur not at the hand of a stranger; they are usually the work of the person the woman loves and trusts most — the father of her child.

Often enough, I gave the pat response. It was a slow news day that Christmas Eve, when this beautiful young woman with the most engaging smile vanished from her quiet suburban neighborhood in a matter of minutes. No one saw anything untoward. She had no enemies. Most important, she apparently had the ideal marriage. Everyone described Scott and Laci Peterson as completely in love. In those first few days, no one mentioned any hints of tension or strife between them. Both sets of in-laws would contend that they were perfect together.

By all appearances, things were going well for Scott and Laci. Their finances were shaky, but that could be said of many young couples. The husband was charming, industrious, and obviously in love with his wife. The wife was a responsible, level-headed young woman, radiant in her happiness over the upcoming birth of their son.

Laci Peterson did wear expensive jewelry, even on her walks in a neighboring park. Early on, that seemed the only logical explanation for her disappearance: Someone must have kidnapped her for those gems. Or maybe, just maybe, some horrid soul had wanted the baby she was soon to deliver. After all, such hideous demons were out there, and the smallest quirk of fate could send an innocent into their terrible clutches.

As the story began to unfold, however, I had my doubts. After almost three decades studying, practicing, and reporting on the criminal justice system, I felt that something wasn’t right in those first news stories about Laci Peterson. It was reported that her husband, Scott, had been fishing in the San Francisco Bay on that fateful day. Fishing, of course, seemed like an innocent activity.

And yet it was a cold, gray Christmas Eve. Laci was about to deliver their first child. The couple was having an elaborate brunch for their in-laws the next day. There was shopping and cooking to be done, presents yet to buy.

Why would Scott Peterson be fishing?

As I followed each new development and watched Scott’s first fleeting appearances before the press, I noticed that he seemed rather removed from the tragedy unfolding around him. His emotional affect was flat. He did not jump onto the airwaves with pleas for the release or recovery of his beloved wife. His behavior was discordant and disturbing.

Nevertheless, in those first days there were plenty of pundits who scrambled to explain away Scott Peterson’s behavior. Eminent defense attorneys stepped forward to proclaim that everyone grieves differently and that Scott’s behavior displayed no evidence of a guilty mind. I disagreed. The more I looked into the story, the more fascinated I became with Scott’s personality. Before long, I began to raise questions on the air about whether he was showing signs of a behavior disorder. Scott seemed to display many of the textbook qualities of a sociopath. He seemed relatively intelligent, was charming and gregarious, and claimed to be devastated by Laci’s disappearance — yet beneath the superficial reactions, I sensed something else. Scott Peterson showed no normal signs or expressions of grief. He seemed to have no emotional insight into the extent of the tragedy unfolding around him. To put it plainly, he seemed insincere.

As the story developed, more and more evidence emerged to support this analysis. The inconsistencies in Scott’s story failed to resolve themselves. There was little sign that he was leading, or even involved in, the search for Laci. Then came the explosive news about Scott’s girlfriend, Amber Frey, whom he had hidden from Laci and her family. Scott’s life, it appeared, had been entwined in a knot of outrageous lies, and now the lies were unraveling. His abnormal calm in the face of both families’ unbearable sorrow, his self-serving, narcissistic manner, and his failure to lead the search all supported my initial hunch that this man, Scott Peterson, was a sociopath.

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