I remember this
Q: Mrs. B, please state your name for the court.
A: J------ B-----.
Q: And could you spell that, please?
A: J------ B-----.
Q: Thank you. Mrs. B., do you know this man sitting here?
A: Yes, I do.
Q: And what is his name?
A: D----- B------.
Q: How long have you known the defendant?
A? Since 1979. I remember that year, my first impression of you; you were an outsider even then. A lonely outsider. Angry at the world, but there was something more within you. I could see it.
Q: But you lost touch for many years, is that correct? You became reacquainted in 2004 when he and his family joined your church.
A: That's correct. We lost touch after you slapped me across the face and I screamed "I never want to see you again!" I screamed and screamed at you, until you were gone, out of sight.
Q: And did you know his wife, J------ B-------?
A: Yes, I did. We worked together on a school committee and we met socially a few times. She was sweet, she was damaged. She loved you. She shouldn't have died.
Q: And were you aware of the problems in their marriage?
A: Not at first. I was happy for you. You had a beautiful family. Things really turned out well. I needed you to know that I held no grudge against you for that awful night in 1981. I forgave you.
Q: When did you first become aware that the defendant and his wife were having problems?
A: It was in November of 2004. He told me, "I can't pretend anymore" and he admitted that they were getting divorced. And I knew, at that moment, that you were in trouble. I knew it because I knew you. I could see that you were in over your head. You needed a friend.
Q: And what did Mr. B say to you when he told you about the divorce?
A: He told me that J was leaving him and he didn't understand why. Her only explanation was "I'm finished." He told me about his suicide attempt in August of that year. After she left him. He said that he had taken a massive overdose of Benadryl and alcohol and he had checked into a hotel to die. He didn't want to be found. But they found him. They found him in time. And I wondered to myself, "did you really intend to die?" Or were you trying to manipulate her? Because I wouldn't put that past you.
Q: And when Mr. B. told you about this suicide attempt, what was your response?
A: I asked him, "Why didn't you just use a gun?" Because I questioned the lethality of Benadryl, and I wondered how serious he was about dying. Because I knew this was turning into my problem now. I knew this was likely to haunt you, and I needed to know how serious you were, and how serious you might be the next time.
Q: And what did Mr. B. say?
A: He said, "I didn't use a gun because of this: If I botched it, and someone heard the shot, they would likely find me and save me, and I would live in a vegetative state for the rest of my life, with half a face." And I remembered how you were, back in high school. I remembered your deep and lingering fear of being a cripple. I remembered your compulsive planning, always planning for every contingency. Your explanation made sense to me. I thought it was very like you.
Q: Let's go back to the night of May XX, 2005. Did you receive a phone call from Mr. B. that night?
A: Yes I did. That's when my whole life changed.
Q: And can you tell me what Mr. B. said on that phone call?
A: He said, "Do you know what's going on?" And he wouldn't believe me when I said "No!" Until finally he said, "I shot her, I blew three holes in her. She's dead, or dying. She bitch-slapped me and told me she's been sleeping around for our entire marriage, then she laughed in my face, so I shot her." Bitch-slapped? What the hell does that mean?
Q: And what did you say?
A: All I could say was "Oh my God! Oh my God!" I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, and I knew; this couldn't be fixed. This could never be fixed. Until finally I said, "Where did you shoot her?" because I wanted to know...maybe it was a shoulder, or a leg, or somewhere like that, where we might have saved her. But he didn't understand me. He said, "In my apartment, they've already found her. I heard the sirens."
Q: What else did Mr. B. say?
A: He said, "Now I have to die. There's nothing left for me. I'm going to get drunk and blow my head off. There's nothing left for me now. All that's left is a lethal injection, or life in a mental institution, or going to prison to be punked in the ass. I've been punked in the ass before, I can't do it again. No...I have to die now. There's no other way."
Q: And what did you say?
A: I said, "No! You don't have to die. I'll help you. I'll tell them you're sick. You're so sick. I'll tell them. You don't have to die."
Q: And then?
A: I don't know. I don't know. It went on a long time like that. I just tried to talk him out of suicide. And my husband came out, and saw me talking to him, and he could see I was very upset. So I motioned to him to bring me a pencil and paper, and I wrote, "D. shot J." Then he wrote, "Should I call 911?" And I just shook my head "no" because I thought they were already there, helping J. And I wanted to keep D. on the phone. I thought he needed to live. He needed to live for the children.
Q: Did he give you a list of names, people to contact?
A: Yes.
Q: And did you know the people on that list?
A: Yes I did. They were his friends and his children. And I said, "D., what do you want me to say to your children?" Hoping the thought of them would pull you back from the precipice. Hoping they would keep you alive. And he said, "Just tell them I'm sorry. They're better off without a mother like her."
Q: Did you talk about anything else?
A: Yes. He said, "I hope if they find me before I do it, that the police let me do my business -- because I consider them to be my brothers." What did you mean by that? Was that a threat?
Q: How did the phone call end?
A: Finally he said, "I see someone coming, there's headlights. Say goodbye now. Say goodbye." But I couldn't. I couldn't let him go. Until finally I said it. There was nothing else I could do. You bastard. Forcing me to say goodbye like that.
I was so afraid. Afraid I would have to hear you shoot yourself over the phone.
Q: And then, what did you do?
A: We called 911. And they told me that had not received any reports of shots fired in that area. Can you imagine how I felt? No report of shots fired. No help for J. I believed you when you said they had found her already. I believed you. Why did I always believe you?
Q: So what happened next?
A: I couldn't remember his address, so I had to lead them to her. I had to find the police and lead them to her body. And thanks to you, I have the memory of that: policemen in the dark, guns drawn, walking up to your apartment. Then I saw the firetruck and ambulance arrive, but they only paused. The police waved them on. There was no need. And I remember the policeman coming out to me and telling me, "I'm sorry, we found her, but there's no sign of life." As if I hadn't already figured that out. And I watched them string the crime scene tape, and the reporters came, and then the detectives were on the scene. They had a few questions for me. Just a few.
Thank you, Mrs. B. No further questions.
Judge: Mr. S., your witness.
A: J------ B-----.
Q: And could you spell that, please?
A: J------ B-----.
Q: Thank you. Mrs. B., do you know this man sitting here?
A: Yes, I do.
Q: And what is his name?
A: D----- B------.
Q: How long have you known the defendant?
A? Since 1979. I remember that year, my first impression of you; you were an outsider even then. A lonely outsider. Angry at the world, but there was something more within you. I could see it.
Q: But you lost touch for many years, is that correct? You became reacquainted in 2004 when he and his family joined your church.
A: That's correct. We lost touch after you slapped me across the face and I screamed "I never want to see you again!" I screamed and screamed at you, until you were gone, out of sight.
Q: And did you know his wife, J------ B-------?
A: Yes, I did. We worked together on a school committee and we met socially a few times. She was sweet, she was damaged. She loved you. She shouldn't have died.
Q: And were you aware of the problems in their marriage?
A: Not at first. I was happy for you. You had a beautiful family. Things really turned out well. I needed you to know that I held no grudge against you for that awful night in 1981. I forgave you.
Q: When did you first become aware that the defendant and his wife were having problems?
A: It was in November of 2004. He told me, "I can't pretend anymore" and he admitted that they were getting divorced. And I knew, at that moment, that you were in trouble. I knew it because I knew you. I could see that you were in over your head. You needed a friend.
Q: And what did Mr. B say to you when he told you about the divorce?
A: He told me that J was leaving him and he didn't understand why. Her only explanation was "I'm finished." He told me about his suicide attempt in August of that year. After she left him. He said that he had taken a massive overdose of Benadryl and alcohol and he had checked into a hotel to die. He didn't want to be found. But they found him. They found him in time. And I wondered to myself, "did you really intend to die?" Or were you trying to manipulate her? Because I wouldn't put that past you.
Q: And when Mr. B. told you about this suicide attempt, what was your response?
A: I asked him, "Why didn't you just use a gun?" Because I questioned the lethality of Benadryl, and I wondered how serious he was about dying. Because I knew this was turning into my problem now. I knew this was likely to haunt you, and I needed to know how serious you were, and how serious you might be the next time.
Q: And what did Mr. B. say?
A: He said, "I didn't use a gun because of this: If I botched it, and someone heard the shot, they would likely find me and save me, and I would live in a vegetative state for the rest of my life, with half a face." And I remembered how you were, back in high school. I remembered your deep and lingering fear of being a cripple. I remembered your compulsive planning, always planning for every contingency. Your explanation made sense to me. I thought it was very like you.
Q: Let's go back to the night of May XX, 2005. Did you receive a phone call from Mr. B. that night?
A: Yes I did. That's when my whole life changed.
Q: And can you tell me what Mr. B. said on that phone call?
A: He said, "Do you know what's going on?" And he wouldn't believe me when I said "No!" Until finally he said, "I shot her, I blew three holes in her. She's dead, or dying. She bitch-slapped me and told me she's been sleeping around for our entire marriage, then she laughed in my face, so I shot her." Bitch-slapped? What the hell does that mean?
Q: And what did you say?
A: All I could say was "Oh my God! Oh my God!" I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, and I knew; this couldn't be fixed. This could never be fixed. Until finally I said, "Where did you shoot her?" because I wanted to know...maybe it was a shoulder, or a leg, or somewhere like that, where we might have saved her. But he didn't understand me. He said, "In my apartment, they've already found her. I heard the sirens."
Q: What else did Mr. B. say?
A: He said, "Now I have to die. There's nothing left for me. I'm going to get drunk and blow my head off. There's nothing left for me now. All that's left is a lethal injection, or life in a mental institution, or going to prison to be punked in the ass. I've been punked in the ass before, I can't do it again. No...I have to die now. There's no other way."
Q: And what did you say?
A: I said, "No! You don't have to die. I'll help you. I'll tell them you're sick. You're so sick. I'll tell them. You don't have to die."
Q: And then?
A: I don't know. I don't know. It went on a long time like that. I just tried to talk him out of suicide. And my husband came out, and saw me talking to him, and he could see I was very upset. So I motioned to him to bring me a pencil and paper, and I wrote, "D. shot J." Then he wrote, "Should I call 911?" And I just shook my head "no" because I thought they were already there, helping J. And I wanted to keep D. on the phone. I thought he needed to live. He needed to live for the children.
Q: Did he give you a list of names, people to contact?
A: Yes.
Q: And did you know the people on that list?
A: Yes I did. They were his friends and his children. And I said, "D., what do you want me to say to your children?" Hoping the thought of them would pull you back from the precipice. Hoping they would keep you alive. And he said, "Just tell them I'm sorry. They're better off without a mother like her."
Q: Did you talk about anything else?
A: Yes. He said, "I hope if they find me before I do it, that the police let me do my business -- because I consider them to be my brothers." What did you mean by that? Was that a threat?
Q: How did the phone call end?
A: Finally he said, "I see someone coming, there's headlights. Say goodbye now. Say goodbye." But I couldn't. I couldn't let him go. Until finally I said it. There was nothing else I could do. You bastard. Forcing me to say goodbye like that.
I was so afraid. Afraid I would have to hear you shoot yourself over the phone.
Q: And then, what did you do?
A: We called 911. And they told me that had not received any reports of shots fired in that area. Can you imagine how I felt? No report of shots fired. No help for J. I believed you when you said they had found her already. I believed you. Why did I always believe you?
Q: So what happened next?
A: I couldn't remember his address, so I had to lead them to her. I had to find the police and lead them to her body. And thanks to you, I have the memory of that: policemen in the dark, guns drawn, walking up to your apartment. Then I saw the firetruck and ambulance arrive, but they only paused. The police waved them on. There was no need. And I remember the policeman coming out to me and telling me, "I'm sorry, we found her, but there's no sign of life." As if I hadn't already figured that out. And I watched them string the crime scene tape, and the reporters came, and then the detectives were on the scene. They had a few questions for me. Just a few.
Thank you, Mrs. B. No further questions.
Judge: Mr. S., your witness.
posted by Juanita at
9:14 AM
3 Comments:
Thanks for the invite. A private blog is a wonderful thing.
I'm glad at least the dread of the trial is over.
The rest will never be.
I believe strongly in writing out misery like this to get it all out, as it has always helped me. I had no idea that he told you that the police/ambulance was already there after he shot his wife. He really couldn't have made this worse for you, could he?
I know that the title of our blog was recovering witness : I scrolled back to read this ... I'm just left thinking whoa ... heavy ... it is good to write things out.
thank you for sharing
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