Ungodly Sick

THE MONDAY MORNING CALL from the D.A.'s office is rushed. "Be in court at 11," I'm told. "Mrs. Noe is going to plead. But come in quietly, after the hearing begins. If she sees you, she might get spooked out of signing." The deal has been in the works for months, and there are only two things left for the 70-year-old woman to do: stand up in front of a judge and admit, at last, that she smothered eight of her babies, and sign her name on the plea agreement.

In the courtroom, Marie Noe rises from behind the defense table, steadying herself on a cane. Several rows back sits her 77-year-old husband, Arthur, his face reddening before he breaks down weeping.

Deputy district attorney Charles Gallagher tells the judge that due to the "peculiar circumstances" of the Noe case, the D.A.'s office recommends a sentence of 20 years probation - the first five to be served under house arrest - along with intensive mental health treatment sessions to figure out why Marie killed her kids.

As the judge and Noe recite the colloquy of her plea agreement, it dawns on me that she will walk out of the courtroom ad go back home. She will still be able to make Arthur his dinner tonight. Arthur will probably continue to believe his wife is incapable of murder. He will probably still blame all their legal troubles on me, because I wrote the story that reopened the case and led to Marie Noe's confession. ["Cradle to Grave," April 1998; available at www.phillymag.com]. If Marie tries to tell Arthur the truth, he will probably interrupt her, as he always does.

But here in court, Marie Noe is speaking for herself. As the prosecutor lays out the case he would have made had she not pleaded guilty, the words from her various confessions are finally made public. It turns out that in March of 1998, she told homicide detectives that she had vivid recollections of smothering at least three of her babies: "Elizabeth was a lot stronger than Richard was," she explained, "and she was fighting when the pillow was over her face."

In her confession, she said she had hoped police would find out about the murders, because "I knew what I was doing was very wrong." When asked if there was any reason why she had harmed her kids, she said, "All I can figure is that I'm ungodly sick." But detectives could only have so much sympathy: During much of her interrogation, she referred to each child as "it" and had to be forced repeatedly to use the babies' names.

The judge asks Noe for her plea. "Guilty," she says, loud and clear. "Where do I sign?" And in that moment, justice is finally served.

The judge accepts the D.A.'s sentencing recommendation and then asks Noe's attorney, David Rudenstein, if he has anything to add. Of course, he does, which is just one of the many complexities underlying the unusual sentence. Trying Marie Noe 30 years too late would have been difficult: there's no physical evidence, her confession could have been thrown out, she has a history of mental illness, and when the babies originally died, she was repeatedly investigated and exonerated. And Rudenstein, who has a reputation for courtroom antics, also could have turned the trial into a circus. Offering a taste of how it might have been, he sends the hearing into a surreal tailspin by using his time to thank his wife, announce he has a new job and acknowledge his new partners — who just happen to be in the courtroom. All around him, eyes roll.