Best Sellers on Audio presents

Tales from Briarcliff

by Lana Winters, read by the author.

Chapter six,

"The Gathering Storm."

Behind the stone walls of Briarcliff, time had no meaning.

The days themselves seemed to exist in a kind of perpetual twilight.

Life there was just a series of numbing cruelties and humiliations, all masquerading as something else.

You weren't conceived in love, but in hate.

I couldn't wait to give you up.

You're an abomination.

You should never have been born.

I was in the third week of my confinement, and a storm was coming.

The nor'easter of '64

that brought so much devastation with it, and for me, something else, something far more savage even than nature.

Oliver Thredson was, to all appearances, a kindly figure, fatherly in his manner.

This face he showed the world, this face of sanity and benevolence, that was his real mask.

Underneath lurked the real Oliver Thredson, an unspeakable monster.

I loved you even when you were still in your mother's womb.

I would have given anything to be a real father to you, but she kept us apart.

I had so much love to give you, son.

She stole it from you.

From both of us.

♪ Here comes the bride. ♪

Oh, my God.

The Catholic Church bought this place in '62, and turned it into a sanitarium for the criminally insane.

Legend has it that once you were committed at Briarcliff, you never got out.

The most famous resident was a serial killer named...

Bloody Face.

Say Bloody Face.

Bloody Face.

Maybe it's Bloody Face.

Maybe it's just old pipes.

Let me see.

What? You scared, pussy?

Oh, my God! What? What's wrong?

You're such a prick.

You are such a prick.

Speaking of which...

No. I want to know what's in there.

Do it again and I'll blow you.

Give me your phone.

And who did this drawing of you?

Bono.

He was a bit tipsy on the airplane coming back from Somalia and drew it on the cocktail napkin.

He's quite good, isn't he?

Be sure and get an insert of that, Pete.

So with six bestsellers, a reputation as the only one the men will open up to, world leaders, stars, disgraced politicians, who's the one that got away?

Is there anyone you lusted after that you missed?

That's easy:

Mao and Rielle Hunter.

And she's still lusting after Julian Assange.

Uh, look, I know

I said no on-camera appearances for you, but I love this whole bringing the chardonnay thing, super casual, loving.

What about just that?

I'm April, by the way.

Marian.

What a pleasure.

I saw your Norma at the Met.

Transcendent.

She's doing it in Bologna this summer.

Thank you.

I've got rehearsal; I've got to take off.

I'll be back by 5:00.

We have that Sondheim dinner birthday thing tonight.

Mmm.

Am I not the luckiest woman alive?

A little higher, babe.

Attaboy.

Mm-mm, higher still.

Oh, what are they teaching these kids in film school?

God knows it's not how to make us old gals look more gorgeous.

Nothing old about you, Lana.

Well, thanks to a very talented surgeon in Paris and a great dermatologist.

So, what are we covering today?

Well, since it's a Kennedy Center honor, I'd say it's a pretty big canvas.

Jesus, darling, I hope this isn't going to feel like a eulogy.

I will certainly ask you about your notorious nail-to-the-cross prison interview with Madoff.

But before all that, I'd like to go back and start with the early years.

The awful

Bloody Face saga.

I said I wouldn't talk about that.

People want to hear about it.

It's what made you famous.

My point exactly.

He's become a goddamn household name.

Like some kind of Heath Ledger, Hollywood movie star villain.

He was an evil monster who used murder and torture to keep himself from feeling like a eunuch.

End of story.

I refuse to give him one more second of air time.

So then let's start with the event that made your reputation as a crusader for change, the Briarcliff exposé.

We good to go, everyone? Honey, hand me that mirror, will you?

I like to do my own eyebrows.

How do I look?

Like a million bucks.

But they're still not gonna let us in that front door with a camera.

Oh, I know how to get in.

Jesus, how did you find this place?

Listen, when we get inside, no matter what happens, or what anybody says, you keep shooting.

We need to document the conditions, the filth, these people are forced to live in.

I want the footage to shock the public out of their complacency, you understand?

I want moral outrage.

I want to put America in the asylum.

The fact that you would voluntarily go back into the place where you almost died, that's why you were held in such high esteem by all of America and your peers.

Did you always have this need for justice?

That's the myth.

Lana Winters, crusader.

It was a story that I helped to perpetuate, but, uh, it's time I come clean.

It wasn't justice that got me back to Briarcliff.

It was ambition.

I knew my future wasn't in print.

You had an abrupt career change.

I knew television was the future.

So I got started in local news, then an NBC affiliate before I landed my own series of investigative reports.

America Unmasked.

With TV, words, they're less important.

You need something people can see, visual stimulation, and believe me, there is nothing more stimulating than crazy people.

But you need more than that.

You need an angle, a hook.

And boy, did I have a doozy.

I heard from very reliable sources that Sister Jude, the nun that imprisoned me at Briarcliff, was still alive.

In fact, she had become a patient there herself.

I was going to go into that snake pit and rescue her from the very place she had me committed.

Milo, I told you to keep rolling.

Get the camera up and pointed at me.

At Briarcliff Manor, it's not uncommon to see patients left on their own without supervision, without stimulation, for hours on end.

The squalor, the filth, the decay of this institution is a shocking indictment of the abandonment of her most needy by the state of Massachusetts.

The Church sold Briarcliff Manor to the state of Massachusetts in the fall of 1965.

Since then, conditions have deteriorated.

The images and sounds are far more...

Ready? You need a slate?

Are...

Yeah, are you sleeping?

Come on.

Three, two, one.

The church sold

Briarcliff Manor to the state of Massachusetts in the fall of 1965.

Since then, conditions have deteriorated.

These images and sounds are far more powerful than any words that can be spoken.

But how can I

describe to you the way it smells?

It reeks of filth, of disease.

It smells of death.

Who are you?

Do you...

have permission to do this? You are the first attendant we've seen the entire time we've been here.

Is it the policy to leave patients unclothed and unclean, some of them smeared in their own feces?

Uh... I'm sorry, there's...

just too many for us to take care of.

Right now I'm interested in one.

I demand to see Judy Martin.

Give me some light.

Judy Martin?

Do you remember me?

You were committed to Briarcliff to cover up the abuses the church and science had perpetrated against patients here.

You were left to die.

Alone.

Abandoned.

I've come back to help you.

I'm going to get you out of here, Sister Jude.

It's okay.

Lana... Banana.

Such a powerful scene you describe.

I'm embarrassed to say I don't remember it.

That's because it never happened.

By the time I got to Briarcliff,

Jude was gone.

I should've gone back sooner.

But you did shut down Briarcliff.

Yes, but it's not the ending I wanted.

It was one hell of an ending, just not the one I wanted.

And there's your promo.

Let's take a break.

I need to freshen up.

Ms. Winters needs a break.

Five and we're back.

Would you like something to drink?

I'd love a sparkling water.

Would you get Ms. Winters a sparkling water, please?

Thanks.

You're a doll.

My pleasure, Ms. Winters.

♪ I feel the earth move ♪
♪ Under my feet ♪
♪ I feel the sky tumbling down... ♪

Kit. Holy shit.

Lana!

I was just watching the news.

You did it.

You really did it.

You shut down Briarcliff.

What the hell's this?

I wanted them to capture our reunion.

And I have a few questions I'd like to ask you.

Questions? Yes.

Like who's Betty Drake?

And is she here?

I'll talk to you, Lana, but... but I'm not gonna talk to your camera.

♪ Tumbling down, a-tumbling down ♪
♪ A-tumbling down ♪
♪ Tumbling down... ♪

Where'd you find this?

I was still trying to find Jude.

But of course

Jude hadn't existed for years.

The Monsignor saw to that.

I had no idea who I was even looking for anymore.

And then I found this.

Betty Drake, released to the care of Kit Walker, March 27, 1970.

That was just a few months after you came to see me at the book signing.

It's Jude, isn't it?

Why do you care now, Lana?

Hmm?

We all just part of your story?

It's not just my story, Kit.

It's yours, too. And hers.

You went back for her.

Why?

'Cause it was something I could do.

I mean, I couldn't shut the place down, I couldn't lead them all out of there like Moses.

But, Jude, whatever she was, she didn't belong there any more than we did.

I couldn't just leave her there.

After Alma died, I...

started visiting her there.

At least once a week.

Sometimes twice.

There was still life there.

There was still someone buried deep inside.

But I knew that life wouldn't last long if nobody got her out of there.

They didn't ask a lot of questions.

Think they were just happy to have one less patient to care for.

You brought her into your home.

Why'd you do that?

After all the indignities she made you suffer?

I didn't do it for her.

I didn't even really do it for me.

I did it for the kids.

I needed to be there for them.

And the only way I could leave

Briarcliff behind once and for all was to find some way to forgive.

Someone to forgive.

Is she dead?

Go on.

The first thing we had to do was see her through detox.

Carrot juice.

From our garden.

For a while, things seemed to be going along pretty well, considering.

I made a decision to just...

stay the course.

They loved her.

No matter how much she barked at them, they always understood something about her.

So she eventually came around.

Well, it got worse before it got better.

Told you to start in the corner!

Did you think I wouldn't notice?

Come back here, you little shit!

Hey! Hey!

Hey! Hey! I'll cane you!

Hey! This is not Briarcliff, and you will not hit my kids!

Wait a minute.

What's going on here?

No, we do not have a children's ward!

I told your mother that.

I was very clear.

I was very clear! Jude!

You will address me as Sister Jude.

You don't fool me, Kit Walker.

I know who you are.

I know what you did.

Killer of women.

Jude, please...

No, you get away! Get away from me! I won't go back in that hole! I will not!

You can't make me!

Thomas!

Get your sister and go outside.

I will not! No, you can't make me!

It's okay, Dad.

Oh, no...

I still don't know what happened in those woods.

When they came back...

something was different.

Grace was right.

Those children are special.

Okay, I'm gonna teach you a new step.

Okay. Ready?

Toe, heel, step back.

Toe, heel, step back.

Okay, now, start again, watch me.

You're left, and I'm right.

Because women are always right.

All right?

Five, six, seven, eight.

♪ You gotta jump, jive and then you wail ♪
♪ You gotta jump, jive and then you wail ♪
♪ You gotta jump, jive and then you wail ♪ All right.

Now spin me.

♪ And then you wail ♪
♪ You wail ♪
♪ Wail... ♪ Whoo!

Ooh!

Don't say I never taught you nothing.

Daddy, dance with me.

Come over here!

Thomas! Come here.

♪ Papa's in the icebox... ♪

Let me show this to you.

Left foot...

♪ Papa's in the icebox looking for a can of milk ♪
♪ Mama's in the backyard... ♪

For six months, she taught them how to swing dance and swear like a sailor.

Made Thomas learn to sew and took away Julia's dolls and gave her trucks so she'd grow up tough.

I don't know if those last six months made up for a lifetime of horrors...

but she sure seemed happy.

Hey.

Come here.

Come here, you two.

Come here.

I got a few more things to tell you, okay?

Julia...

don't you ever...

ever let a man tell you who you are...

or make you feel...

like you are less than he is.

It's 1971.

And you can do anything you want.

Okay? You understand?

And, Thomas...

don't pick your nose...

and never take a job just for the money.

Find something...

that you love.

Do something you want.

Okay, boy?

Oh, I don't need that.

It's mushroom barley.

You got to eat something.

No, I don't.

Kids, why don't you go pile up the leaves in the yard?

I'm staying with Nana.

No, you guys, you should go outside and play.

Go on.

Kit Walker...

you're a lucky man.

You better not screw them up.

I'm here.

I'm not going to leave you alone.

I'm not... I'm not alone.

She's here for me.

I don't know who she was talking about.

I do.

Jude...

we've been doing this dance for so many years.

Are you sure you're ready this time?

I'm sure.

I'm ready now.

Kiss me.

I have a feeling we're about to enter the hard-hitting part of the interview.

It was the pen, wasn't it?

No need to take notes on powder-puff questions.

You got me, but I'm gonna ask anyway.

If shutting down Briarcliff was such an undeniable success, your next exposé was, to put it mildly, controversial.

I think half of New York wanted to lynch me, and the other half would have had me banned from the state.

Can we talk about what happened with Cardinal Howard?

At the time, he was a powerhouse, a rising star in the church.

The man had avoided me for weeks.

I went through all the official channels, but he ignored every request I made for an interview.

So, finally, I cornered him on his way to Easter Mass.

Cardinal Howard.

I have nothing to say to you, Miss Winters.

With or without your comments, I'm airing a report tomorrow night on Dr. Arthur Arden, a man you hired to run the medical unit at Briarcliff.

We finally gained access to his files.

Did you know he was conducting human experiments?

We found some very disturbing evidence.

Cardinal... Would you mind switching that off, please?

A number of patients disappeared under his care.

Do you have any idea what happened to them?

It was over seven years ago.

You can't expect me to remember anything about patients I wasn't responsible for.

I'm afraid you are responsible.

Everything that happened at Briarcliff happened under your authority.

And there is no statute of limitations on murder, Cardinal Howard.

The police have found remains, human bones in the woods outside Briarcliff.

They're going to start asking hard questions.

And since the notorious Dr. Arden has disappeared, they're going to be looking to you for answers.

Get out of my way.

What are you running from, Cardinal Howard?

Out of the way, Miss Winters!

What are you running from?

Happy Easter.

Answer the question.

To this day, people still

blame you for what happened to him.

I've got broad shoulders, but I can't take credit for what his guilty conscience made him do.

That man was a particular kind of liar, the kind who lies to himself about being a liar.

He was so corrupt and deluded, he believed his own lies.

Lies are like scars on your soul.

They destroy you.

I have a feeling we're not just talking about Cardinal Howard anymore.

Is there something you'd like to share with us?

I'm going to come clean about a lie

I've told for over 40 years.

In my book Maniac,

I write about the abuse, the rape, the pregnancy.

I say that the baby died in childbirth.

I even wrote about a kind of poetic justice that the child hadn't lived.

That child is alive.

I didn't raise him, but someone did.

Don't ask me to do that again.

He'll need to learn how to live without me.

I just prayed really hard that somebody else could give him the kind of mothering he'd need.

I couldn't muster it.

I tried, but I couldn't.

That's quite a secret, Lana.

The only person I've told is Marian.

Do you mind if I ask, has there been any contact since?

There was a period in the mid-'70s where I suffered a terrible remorse about giving him up.

I used all my skills as a sleuth, which are myriad as we know, to track him down.

I just needed to see him.

I didn't have a plan.

What you got in here?

You like dinosaurs?

You want to suck a brontosaurus dick?

Shut up, asshole!

Who are you calling asshole, faggot?

Hey, you, you little shit.

You back off before I hurt you in ways you haven't even dreamt of.

Are you all right?

Yeah, I'm fine.

You know he's the asshole, right?

Yeah, I know.

You should report him.

That was the last time I saw him.

I wasn't his mother.

Not in any meaningful way.

I would only confuse him.

But I thought about him so often.

Wondering where he was.

How he turned out.

Did you ever think about having children after that?

It was a different time for gay women.

Most of us were resigned to not having children.

But I was close to my friends' children.

In fact, Kit... Kit Walker...

he asked me to be godmother to his kids.

Kit got married again.

He met a great girl named

Allison down at the co-op.

I don't know who loved her more... Kit or those kids.

Kit always believed the kids were destined for great things.

They grew up with that message, and they lived up to it.

Thomas is a law professor at Harvard.

Julie is a leading neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins.

Kit would be so proud of them.

Is he no longer with us?

When he was around 40, he developed pancreatic cancer.

By the time they found it, the tumor had metastasized to the liver.

They gave him chemo, but...

it was just a waiting game.

The kids both offered to look after him, but he wouldn't hear of it.

In those last months, he seemed more peaceful than I'd ever seen him.

And then the strangest thing happened.

He disappeared.

I don't understand.

No one did.

And no one could explain exactly what happened.

No note, no tracks, no clues.

And no funeral.

Kit's children insisted there was no reason to mourn.

Ms. Winters, I can't tell you what an honor this has been for me.

Oh, try not to, darling.

I just hope you got what you need.

Are you kidding?

I thought we'd just be doing your greatest hits, but all the personal stuff...

fantastic, unexpected and very moving.

See you at the Kennedy Center.

Mm-hmm.

Can I pour you a drink?

Why don't you come out now?

You don't need to hide.

Not anymore.

Let's get this over with, shall we?

So I guess you've had a pretty great life, huh?

It's been eventful.

It's about to end.

You get that, right?

I knew it the moment I saw you.

Mind if I ask you something?

No.

I don't mind.

How did you manage to get yourself on the crew?

That shit was easy.

I've been waiting outside the building, got friendly with the doorman, he told me about the interview.

When the first guy showed up at dawn... the guy with the doughnuts...

I cut his throat.

He's in the trash bin.

This isn't how I pictured it.

Really?

Because this is exactly how I pictured it.

I always knew this day would come.

I didn't think you'd recognize me.

How did you?

Oh, Johnny.

How could I not recognize my own baby boy?

I've never seen him before

in my life.

His name's Johnny Morgan.

48 years old, unmarried.

In and out of jail since his teens.

Nothing major till now.

We think he's responsible for the deaths of at least five people.

Including the elderly couple who lived in the house formerly owned by Oliver Thredson.

The place you were held at and tortured in '64, Ms. Winters.

Are you sure you don't recognize him?

No.

You look like him, you know?

Your father.

It's easy for me to forget just how handsome he was.

Until you shot him in the head.

Yes, I shot him in the head.

How did you find out?

That you murdered my father?

About who you were.

Who told you?

You did.

That day on the playground.

I felt something.

And I saw you on the TV.

"That's my mother,"

I'd tell people.

And they'd just laugh at me, but I knew.

And I dreamed one day that you'd come back.

Then I heard the tape, and, uh...

I knew you never would.

What tape?

I found it on eBay.

This monster you planted inside me, I'm getting rid of it, and since I'm stuck here, I'm gonna have to get creative with this coat hanger.

Lana, no. Lana, no, please!

No baby should have to grow up knowing Daddy is Bloody Face.

My father loved me.

I could hear it in his voice.

That's when I started loving him.

And hating you.

He never loved you, Johnny.

And you did?

No, I didn't love you.

I couldn't.

That's why I gave you up...

so you'd have some shot at a life.

You'd have a chance at a life, you mean!

Right?

This fancy life!

Without me!

So what's it going to be, Johnny?

I don't imagine, at my age, you'd be much interested in the skin.

I've thought about this.

I've thought about this a lot.

My own gun...

I wasn't expecting that.

Your father once told me he didn't believe in guns.

Of course, he was lying about that, too.

You don't get to talk about him.

What are you so afraid of, Johnny?

The truth about him or the truth about you?

I just want him to be proud of me.

I...

I can't measure up.

No...

Johnny.

He was a monster.

No. Yes, he was.

No, he wasn't.

Yes he was, baby.

But that's not you.

You could never be like him.

Not that...

sweet little boy

I met on the playground.

Even then, I knew you were a better man than he was.

Don't.

It's not just him that's in you.

I'm a part of you, too.

I've hurt people.

It's not your fault, baby.

It's mine.

She's talking about the maniac, Bloody Face.

That he's going to be admitted here today.

Is there any way I could meet him?

You're out of your depth, Miss Lana Banana.

You want a story?

Write this down.

A girl like you, you like to dream large.

I'd venture you already have Briarcliff in your rearview mirror.

You make ambition sound like a sin.

No, I'm saying it's dangerous.

What about you?

Saving the souls of madmen and killers is a pretty lofty ambition, wouldn't you say?

And you cannot imagine what it took to get here.

I'd love to hear your story someday.

No.

I don't think you and I are destined to meet again.

But I do hope you know what you're in for.

The loneliness, the heartbreak, the sacrifice you'll face as a woman with a dream on her own.

You don't have any idea what I'm capable of.

Well, then.

Look at you, Miss Lana Banana.

Just remember...

if you look in the face of evil.

Evil's going to look right back at you.

Please, after you.