An A.A. Confession Led to a Conviction in New Year’s Eve Murder a Man Committed While Blackout Drunk

On New Year’s Eve 1988, as doctors Lakshman and Shanta Chervu slept soundly in their Larchmont, N.Y., home, an intoxicated 27-year-old Paul Cox broke into their house—which his parents had sold to the Chervus several years earlier—and stabbed them to death.

Over time and plagued by recurring nightmares, Cox’s memories of what happened during that drunken haze eventually began to surface, but he thought he was attacking his parents.

Cox entered an alcohol rehabilitation program and joined Alcoholics Anonymous, a 12-step program for anyone who has a desire to recover from alcoholism. Two of A.A.’s 12 traditions address anonymity in hopes of offering "protection for all members from identification as alcoholics," per the program's website, in order to allow members to fully engage in the recovery process, increasing the likelihood of a successful outcome. A.A. also encourages members to "maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio and films." Members share on a voluntarily basis at meetings, often without using full names or identifying information, and attendees expect that what is said at meetings is not shared externally.

During a 1993 A.A. meeting, Cox confessed to committing the murders, and someone from that meeting reported Cox’s confession to the authorities. Cox was soon arrested and tried for the Chervu murders.

The jury was deadlocked in Cox’s first trial in summer 1993, during which he argued that an alcoholic haze drove him to break into the Chervus’ home. Cox claimed he didn’t remember the murders until after he sobered up.

Following a retrial, during which A.A. members testified, the jury convicted him in December 1994. The following spring, Cox was sentenced to 16 to 50 years in prison. He’s currently incarcerated at New York’s Eastern Correctional Facility.

The case spurred legal questions as to whether or not A.A. confessions were protected or admissible, which resulted in several appeals, some of which likened A.A. confessions to religious confessions. In 2003, the case made it to the United States Supreme Court, which ultimately refused to hear it.

A representative from the A.A. General Service Office tells A&E Crime + Investigation that the organization does not possess a government or “central authority” that controls or directs its members. “Anonymity in A.A. is not a cloak for unsafe and illegal behavior,” the representative says. “Addressing such behavior and/or contacting the proper authorities when appropriate does not go against any A.A. principles and is meant to ensure the safety of all in attendance. All groups and A.A. entities are autonomous.”

As an A.A. member, Vinny Imperati, who agreed to reveal his identity to A&E Crime + Investigation, says confidentiality is a matter of tradition, trust and ethics.

“Anonymity is super important. Many people, especially in early recovery, have trust issues. So knowing what is said in the rooms stays in the rooms gives a little bit of reassurance that it’s okay to talk about your past,” Imperati says.

Although the Cox case helped establish that A.A. confessions are admissible in court, the decision to use information gleaned from an A.A. confession, or not, comes down to the prosecutor’s discretion, according to Hermann Walz, adjunct professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, criminal defense attorney and former assistant district attorney.

“I don't think I've ever heard or seen any prosecutor saying, ‘Hey, we know he's an alcoholic or a drug addict. Let's follow him and go to a meeting and see if he spouts out something. Nobody's doing that,’” Walz tells A&E Crime + Investigation. “That would be a problem.”

Today it’s fairly clear that A.A. confessions are fair game for prosecutors, in part because Cox’s trial—which took place over 30 years ago—set a precedent.

“The Paul Cox case is the textbook example. Cox confessed to fellow A.A. members, they told police, and the court ruled the confession was admissible,” Bobby Taghavi, managing partner of the Sweet James law firm, tells A&E Crime + Investigation. “The judge held that A.A. is a mutual help group, not a protected medical or spiritual relationship. That decision has been cited ever since to show that A.A. confessions aren’t privileged. It shaped the national understanding that while A.A. values anonymity socially, the law doesn’t treat it as confidential.”

Forensic psychiatrist Carole Lieberman, M.D., M.P.H, tells A&E Crime + Investigation that the only legally protected confessions are those given to doctors, lawyers and clergy. Therefore, “the A.A. members who heard the confession are not duty-bound to keep it confidential, unlike other personal information that is said in such an environment,” she says. “Crimes are not protected by the A.A. general rule of keeping members’ identity and everything they say confidential.”

Walz says another concern comes from someone knowing their confessions might be used against them since it might cause some 12-step members to withhold secret burdens and thereby limit their recovery progress. “For anybody to go to A.A., you need to be able to tell people what happened, what's bothering you, what's driving you,” he states. “How are you going to do that?”

Imperati agrees: “Confessing your wrongdoings and taking accountability for your actions is very important, if not the most important thing, to maintain long-term recovery. It defuses shame and removes the power of secrets. Addiction grows in silence. The shame loses its grip. Instead of feeling unworthy, you feel human, and humans are capable of growth.”

Although Cox’s attorneys argued on appeal that his A.A. confession was protected as if he were confessing to a priest or doctor, it’s possible that Cox knew better.

“It seems to me that Paul Cox wanted his murders to be found out,” Lieberman says. “He had years of alcohol rehab and would have known that A.A. members had no obligation to keep his confession confidential.”

Ultimately, anonymity is not the same as confidentiality.