This was a double play: Deceptive subjects often try to establish camaraderie with their interrogators ("you do the same") and use generalizations and abstractions ("everybody," "everywhere").
Dance asked in a low, steady voice, "Whether authorized or not, in whatever zone, have Daniel Pell and a computer ever been in the same room at the same time at Capitola?"
"I've never seen him on a computer, I swear. Honestly."
The stress that people experience when lying pushes them into one of four emotional states: they're angry, they're depressed, they're in denial or they want to bargain their way out of trouble. The words that Waters had just used--"I swear" and "honestly"--were expressions that, along with his agitated body language, very different from his baseline, told Dance that the guard was in the denial stage of deception. He just couldn't accept the truth of whatever he'd done at the prison and was dodging responsibility for it.
It's important to determine which stress state the subject is in because that allows the interrogator to decide on a tactic for questioning. When the subject is in the anger phase, for instance, you encourage him to vent until he exhausts himself.
In the case of denial, you attack on the facts.
Which was what she now did.
"You have access to the office where the computers are kept, right?"
"Yeah, I do, but so what? All the hacks do. . . . Hey, what is this? I'm on your side."
A typical denier's deflection, which Dance ignored. "And you said it's possible some prisoners would be in that office. Has Pell ever been in there?"
"Nonviolent felons are the only ones allowed in--"
"Has Pell ever been in there?"
"I swear to God I never saw him."
Dance noted adaptors--gestures meant to relieve tension: finger-flexing, foot-tapping--his shoulder aimed toward her (like a football player's defensive posture) and more frequent glances at the door (liars actually glance at routes by which they can escape the stress of the interrogation).
"That's about the fourth time you haven't answered my question, Tony. Now, was Pell ever in any room in Capitola with a computer?"
The guard grimaced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be, you know, difficult. I just was kind of flustered, I guess. I mean, like, I felt you were accusing me of something. Okay, I never saw him on a computer, really. I wasn't lying. I've been pretty upset by this whole thing. You can imagine that." His shoulders drooped, his head lowered a half inch.
"Sure I can, Tony."
"Maybe Daniel could've been."
Her attack had made Waters realize that it was more painful to endure the battering of the interrogation than to own up to what he was lying about. Like turning a light switch, Waters was suddenly in the bargaining phase of deception. This meant he was getting close to dropping the deception but was still holding back the full truth, in an effort to escape punishment. Dance knew that she had to abandon the frontal assault now and offer him some way to save face.
In an interrogation the enemy isn't the liar, but the lie.
"So," she said in a friendly voice, sitting back, out of his personal zone, "it's possible that at some point, Pell could've gotten access to a computer?"
"I guess it could've happened. But I don't know for sure he was on one." His head drooped even more. His voice was soft. "It's just . . . it's hard, doing what we do. People don't understand. Being a hack. What it's like."
"I'm sure they don't," Dance agreed.
"We have to be teachers and cops, everything. And"--his voice lowered conspiratorially--"admin's always looking over our shoulders, telling us to do this, do that, keep the peace, let them know when something's going down."
"Probably like being a parent. You're always watching your children."
"Yeah, exactly. It's like having children." Wide eyes--an affect display, revealing his emotion.
Dance nodded emphatically. "Obviously, Tony, you care about the cons. And about doing a good job."
People in the bargaining phase want to be reassured and forgiven.
"It was nothing really, what happened."
"Go ahead."