Wednesday, February 4, 2004 --11:07 AM

The witness, who was described as a critic of the Yoknapatawpha County Literature Festival Pageant, was interviewed by the Yoknapatawpha County Sheriff's Department. The interview was conducted by Detectives Armstrong and Murphy and was recorded on a portable tape recorder with the witness' knowledge and consent.

SM: Thank you for talking to us today, Dr. Moore. We appreciate you helping us.

LRM: Certainly. I'm happy to help in whatever meager capacity I can.

SM: Would you please state your name and address?

LRM: I am Dr. Lucille Ruffin-Moore, Ph.D. I live at 2238 Lee Loop. Oxford, Mississippi, of course.

SM: And your occupation?

LRM: Officially, I suppose you could say that I am retired. I used to teach on the faculty at the University. Now, I work on my scholarship and writing literary criticism.

TA: When did you retire from Ole Miss?

LRM: Well, let me think... I abdicated my position there about four years ago. My late husband was in very poor health and I wanted to be by his side in his final days. After that, I just contented myself with doing my own writing and research.

SM: We're sorry for your loss.

LRM: Thank you. He was a very kind man, extremely intelligent. After his passing, I just didn't have the stomach to go back to the academic world and all the politics and subterfuge. I can stay here in my own little home, enjoy my gardens, and write just as much as I did in my office in Bondurant Hall. So I have really enjoyed my "retirement" and I've found it quite fulfilling.

SM: Do you have any idea why we wanted to speak with you this morning?

LRM: Honestly, no. I can't imagine why the police want to trifle with a retired schoolteacher.

TA: We're investigating the murder of Barbara Dubois.

LRM: And what does that have to do with me? Was she a student of mine?

SM: She was a finalist in the Yoknapatawpha County Literature Festival Pageant.

LRM: Oh yes, now I remember that name. Please forgive my forgetfulness. I'm afraid that in recent years, Oxford has become so violent that murder investigations involving the local authorities are quite common. To a quiet and reserved woman like me, they're just names in the newspaper. Not that I mean that in a callous or uncaring way, it's just that all these murders-- well, it's hard to keep the names separate. I'm afraid that as I've gotten older, it's just so hard to remember things. I constantly get real people mixed up with the fictional characters that I study.

TA: Even though you were such an out-spoken critic of the beauty pageant?

LRM: Precisely because I have been such an ardent critic of the competition. Precisely that very reason. I have no interest in learning these girls' names. I read about the murder in the paper, dreadful business, really. But because I think the whole event was a travesty, there's no reason why I would have all the competitors' names on the tip of my tongue. I see no reason to honor them or put them on a pedestal.

TA: Do you see any reason to harm them?

LRM: I find that question extremely offensive, Detective. I am a respected member of the academic community. I can assure you that I had my fair share of frivolous airheads in my courses and, although I considered them deluded and childish, I would never dream of harming any of them.

SM: I think my partner is probably just trying to get at all the anger you expressed in your letter to the editor. The one where you ranted against the pageant.

LRM: Even so. Writing a vociferous letter to the editor does not make you a thug capable of bodily injury!

SM: Didn't you compare the contestants to a Faulkner character who is raped? And didn't you say that they would be paid back for their choices in life?

LRM: I must admit that I'm shocked. I had thought better of our local police force. Surely, you cannot mistake a literary device for true intent. If that's the case, you should call your colleagues down in Greenville. I believe the young man who wrote The Silence of the Lambs is from down there. He should certainly be locked up under these standards.

TA: So why don't you humor us? I didn't do so good in English. Tell us what you meant?

LRM: I was simply trying to show how these women can be questioned for their judgment. Temple Drake was a character in William Faulkner's 1931 novel Sanctuary, and although she presented a very clean-cut image, quite similar to the University's Sorority Row, the truth was that she made very questionable choices in life. Just like the competitors.

SM: But those were pretty strong words you used for them.

LRM: Indeed they were. Harsh language and violence seem to be the only way to get through to people in today's society. Subtlety and nuance are lost in this culture. So I was using the harsh language as a device to try and get my point across. I believe Flannery O'Connor said something along the lines of how people won't get the point if you brush them with a feather. You have to hit them in the head with a board. I'm paraphrasing here; don't quote me on that statement. Or was it O'Connor anyway? Oh well, regardless, the point is that although I expressed strong emotions in my missive to the local newspaper, that in no way implies I actually wanted anyone physically harmed.

SM: Did you intend to harm anyone involved in the pageant?

LRM: Of course not!

SM: Can you tell us where you were on the night of January 30th?

LRM: Goodness, no. As I said, my memory is pretty lacking. I could check my calendar.

SM: It was the night of the pageant gala event. The big party. Do you remember now?

LRM: Oh, okay. Yes, I believe I do recall that evening.

SM: What did you do?

LRM: I had dinner that evening at the Downtown Bar and Grill. I believe that I dined with Dr. Robinson from the University. We ate dinner and then Dr. West joined us for desert. Or maybe she was there for dinner as well. I do remember that the evening was planned to be just Dr. Robinson and me. And we coincidentally ran into Dr. West. But when? During dinner or just after?

SM: It's not important. What time was dinner over?

LRM: I believe it was around 9:30 or so.

SM: What did you do then?

LRM: I went home. I skimmed through some Faulkner texts. And read some criticism. Noel Polk, Joseph Blottner, Dr. Kartiganer. Those types of scholars. Maybe I didn't read Polk that night. I might have reviewed his text later in the weekend.

SM: Did you remain at home all evening?

LRM: No, I didn't. I couldn't concentrate on my work. Not at all. The whole pageant business was really bothering me. I felt like I had to see it. I had to face my own demons, so I drove out to the YCCC.

TA: When did you arrive at the hotel?

LRM: I don't really remember. It was late. Quite possibly it was around 11:00.

SM: What did you do when you arrived?

LRM: I just meandered through the hotel. Honestly, I felt quite foolish once there. And I was disappointed in myself. I shouldn't have given into my curiosity. Gawking at accidents is not my usual type of thing.

SM: Who did you see when you got there?

LRM: I went to the lounge and ordered a glass of wine. I didn't really know anyone in the lounge, so I suppose I can't really consider that seeing anyone. Were it not an example of the randomness

TA: How did you get in to the hotel? Wasn't the gala by invitation only?

LRM: But I did not attend the party.

SM: Still, you must have had to get past someone.

LRM: Oh yes, that's right. I did indeed have to talk to someone. I did speak with a man. Some sort of maintenance employee. He opened the door for me. I'm not proud of this, but I told him a little fib. I said that my daughter was in the competition and I had misplaced my key. As I said, as soon as I got into the hotel, I was embarrassed and disappointed in myself.

SM: But then you wandered around?

LRM: Yes. I didn't really know what to do. It wasn't like the competition itself was going on so there really wasn't anything to see. People were just milling around. So I wandered around, trying not to look too out of place, and then I went to the lounge.

SM: Do you remember what time you went to the lounge?

LRM: Well, not exactly. I believe it was around 11:00.

TA: You said you got to the hotel at 11:00.

LRM: Did I? Then it must have been shortly thereafter. I couldn't have ambled long. I don't move very fast with this.

TA: With your cane?

LRM: My companion. We're old friends. It's served me well.

SM: There are some stories about you and that cane and inattentive students.

LRM: Exaggerations, I'm sure. Such stories are overwritten.

SM: What time did you leave the lounge?

LRM: I honestly can't remember. I'm afraid that I felt so out of place that I had a few glasses of wine in the lounge area. So I have no clue what time I left. Maybe the bartender or someone could remember me. They might be able to give a more exact time. I suppose if I had to guess, I can't imagine I stayed in the bar that long. Perhaps I was there an hour or so. Maybe less. I know it wasn't a very long time.

SM: Then what did you do?

LRM: I wandered around again. I had planned on trying to find someone associated with the pageant. Maybe a sponsor or someone. I was irritated and wanted to confront someone. But I was too embarrassed to ask anyone directions or to ask who the important people were. So I just roamed around.

TA: Do you remember where you went?

LRM: No, I just walked around the hotel. I can't say that I went to this room or that. I just walked around.

SM: Did you see anyone while you were walking around?

LRM: I saw lots of people. The hotel was very busy that night. My feet hurt.

SM: Let me rephrase that. Did you see anyone out of place or anyone unusual?

LRM: No. I was very confused, very embarrassed that I had lowered myself to enter the premises, and to be honest, I was a tad tipsy. So I really wasn't paying much attention to the people.

SM: Did you see anyone out of place in the hotel. Maybe someone in a place that's usually off limits to the public?

LRM: No, I don't believe so. And I wouldn't know much about what places people go in hotels such as those anyway.

TA: What time did you leave the hotel?

LRM: I don't know for certain. Haven't we beaten that dead horse enough? Would you like to embarrass me even more?

SM: Just try to remember.

LRM: I would think that it was about 12:30. Maybe a little before then.

SM: And you don't recall anything unusual that you might have seen?

LRM: It was a very unusual evening. There were lots of beautiful girls in ridiculous dresses. Lots of grown men leering. There were people with cameras. An unruly child. There was a woman walking out the back door with her shoes in her hands. There was a drunken boy staggering about. There were lots of unusual sights that evening. Or maybe I dreamed some of that... I do remember having dreadful dreams that night. Oh, I just don't know.

TA: Could you identify these people if you saw them again?

LRM: I might. If I remembered them correctly.

SM: Okay, can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Barbara Dubois?

LRM: No. I didn't even know the girl. I couldn't begin to venture an idea. Who was she?

SM: The victim.

LRM: Oh yes. Poor girl. Terrible that she had to pay for someone else's barbarism.

TA: What makes you think a barbarian killed her?

LRM: Not a barbarian, Detective. Really. I should wonder at your education.

SM: He's like that. Go on.

LRM: Clearly, the poor girl was the pawn of larger interests. Great ideas were at stake, and she was no more than the nameless victim of that clash of great forces.

TA: What forces?

LRM: Do you read, Detective?

SM: He's been known to look at a magazine.

LRM: Literary Review?

TA: Sports Illustrated.

LRM: Tsk, tsk. A critical reader would understand that there are powerful forces at work in such an event as this pageant, just as there are forces at work in Faulkner's texts. Money, power, the desire for fame, passions, the quest for social justice. In fact, you could say the pageant itself is a text, with these events an author's attempt to make meaning.

TA: Uh-huh.

SM: And what's your close reading of the text?

LRM: You need to look to the page, Detective. There is writing on the page of the pageant. Look at the writer--

SM: Of the graffiti?

LRM: That is the obvious writing. Obvious, yet clearly present. So obvious as to be overlooked. And authors don't make meaning with in one dimension only.

SM: So we might look to that author for other acts to make meaning? Even to murder?

LRM: Imagery, Detective, it's all imagery. If an author has a truth in his or her heart, regardless of whether that truth is good or evil, then that truth will manifest itself in the text of events. Faulkner would understand. Do you?

TA: Uh, sure.

SM: Your insights are very valuable, Doctor. Thank you

LRM: You are most gracious.

TA: Is there any reason your name is going to come up again in this investigation?

LRM: I wouldn't think so. I didn't do anything, so why would my name be involved? Of course, I would have never thought you'd knock on my door today either.

SM: Just one more thing, Doctor.

LRM: Yes?

SM: What size shoe do you wear?

LRM: I'm sorry? What kind of question is that?

SM: Just something we're asking everyone, ma'am, and we do need an answer.

LRM: Eight. I wear a size eight. Is there anything else?

SM: Not just now. Thank you for your time, Doctor. We may wish to talk to you again, depending upon what we discover and if you remember anything else.

LRM: Of course.

Interview ends -- 11:53 AM