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Paris’s captives (as various girls’ statements corroborate) were not permitted to refuse a john any request, no matter how frightening, harmful, vile, or degrading—be it videotaping anal rape, beating them black-and-blue (the evidence of which would excite admiring comments from Paris), or smearing them with puke. “Johns are even more dangerous than pimps,” says Caroline, who had her own close encounter with a necrophiliac. (Homicide is the No. 1 cause of death among prostituted females, ahead of aids.) Paris, court documents show, laughed when some of the girls begged to be spared a client known for abuse, and he knocked a tooth out of Gwen’s mouth, she recounted in court, when she became defiant. Only one of Alicia’s customers didn’t demand sex—he hired her to cook dinner while he watched the evening news naked. At a stag party, Alicia watched Paris choke another girl and take her out of the room. “She didn’t come back,” Alicia recalled in court. Before an audience of his cronies, Paris took pornographic photographs—of Gwen on all fours, for instance, naked except for a dog collar and a leash. “We couldn’t use the pictures in court because they were too prejudicial,” says one agent of the law. When Alicia called Paris from a session, crying, he ordered her to continue anyway, and even though she was “ripping and bleeding,” he took her “immediately … to another call,” Alicia recounted. He told Alicia that if she disobeyed him, trial transcripts show, he would dragoon her little sister into becoming a replacement whore. And he complained to Alicia that she and Gwen “weren’t worth the money he paid.”
At one point another pimp showed up, pretending to be a client, and kidnapped the two girls. He hauled them up to Boston, where they were cooped up in a shack. Though there is a system for acquiring girls from one another, known as “serving,” pimps often break their own rules and steal “bitches” outright. Gwen and Alicia were especially coveted because of their skin color. In a rigid hierarchy that clinical psychologist Melissa Farley—founder of Prostitution Research & Education, a San Francisco–based think tank—calls “eroticized racism,” the “snow bunnies” (white girls) outclass the “ducks” (black girls). “Maybe one out of 50 callers would request a black or Latina,” says Caroline. “Most asked for ‘the girl next door’—a blonde, thin teenager with big breasts. That’s candy to ants.”
In the summer of 2004, Alicia swiped some of the compromising photographs that Paris stored in his black briefcase, a portable office where he also kept his credit-card processing machines and terminal, credit-card receipts, copies of his ads, bank statements, and the yellow notepads on which he logged the names, addresses, and sexual tastes of johns (e.g., “Greek,” “girlfriend experience”), as well as directions to their houses. Enraged about the theft and convinced that Alicia was plotting with a hometown boyfriend to use the pictures to build a case against him, Paris took her to his room in the Motel 6, locked the door, beat her, stripped her, handcuffed her to his bed face down, raped her, rolled her in a blanket, and prepared to overdose her with heroin, according to court documents. He seized her Social Security card and other identity papers, and, Alicia testified, instructed an associate, Barry Perez, to obtain some shovels in order to dispose of her body, apparently along the Connecticut River near a marshland known as “the Meadows.”
“I’m already crying. I’m already begging, Why are you doing this? … I’m being completely ignored,” Alicia recounted. “So at this point I just give up… . And I just made myself deal with the fact that I was going to die.”
But, in the end, Perez later testified, he did not carry out Paris’s order. After a pit stop for McDonald’s takeout, Paris returned to the motel room and hit Alicia one last time. Alicia managed in the aftermath to phone her mother and, though hyperventilating, incoherent, disoriented, and sobbing wildly, instructed her to file a missing person’s report in Hartford if there was no further word from her in a couple of weeks, Alicia later testified.
Rather than kill her, prosecutors later charged, Paris had a bondsman cohort, Ronald Martinez, and his sidekick Kazimierz Sulewski arrest Alicia for “failure to appear”—while the pimp watched and chortled from a yellow convertible. Alicia had old warrants out on her for forgery and violation of probation, circumstances Paris had all along exploited as “a ploy to keep her in line,” Scates says. In fact, Martinez, through his state-licensed business, Liberty Bail Bonds of Connecticut, L.L.C., had been prostituting girls, too. He would frequent police stations, offering to pay the bail of girls arrested for shoplifting or breach of peace, and of their drug-dealing boyfriends, Scates explains—and then demand they work off their debt by selling their bodies, via his shadow organizations, Fantasy Entertainment Services, Fantasy Companions, and Fantasy Playmates.

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