A Perfect Husband (12 page)

Michael Peterson smiled and waved to a crowd of supporters at the bond hearing held on Monday, January 14, 2002. He sat silently as his two attorneys spoke on his behalf, and expected the proceeding to go very smoothly. But in a surprise move, DA Jim Hardin asked Todd Peterson to take the stand. Hardin produced a document in which Peterson had given power of attorney to his sons, Todd and Clayton, just one day after Kathleen was found dead.

Concerned that Peterson might have issued the power of attorney so his property could be sold, so he could liquidate and flee the country, Hardin was reluctant to let Peterson walk free on bond. Todd Peterson, furious at Hardin's suggestion, initially refused to answer any of the prosecutor's questions, describing them as “baseless and irrelevant.”

When the angry twenty-five-year-old was instructed by Judge Hight to be responsive, Todd Peterson testified that the power of attorney had been signed over to ensure the financial welfare of the Peterson children and stepchildren, that there had been no talk of selling any property. Asked about when Todd last saw Kathleen alive, Todd testified that he'd seen her at their Cedar Street home at 9:45
P.M.
, December 9, 2001. At the time, Todd noticed that one or two wine bottles were open, and also that his dad had a bottle of champagne in hand, which they were drinking from two crystal glasses. Todd further testified that he went to a party that night, and returned home in the early hours of Sunday morning to find his stepmother already dead. Todd said his father was “utterly incoherent” when he arrived on the scene.

“He could not speak,” Todd told the court, recalling his father's grief. “He simply cried, curled up on the floor, and cried and weeped and weeped. It was the most awful night of our lives.”

Under cross-examination, Todd complained that police had threatened to arrest him five times on the night of Kathleen's death. Apparently, police didn't want Todd to speak to his father, and Todd resented their behavior, telling the court that the police conduct was “the most malice I have ever seen.”

Following the proceeding, novelist Michael Peterson was ordered to surrender his passport. After promising not to leave the state of North Carolina, and posting an $850,000 secured bond, Peterson was granted a release from jail. He had put up his Forest Hills mansion as collateral. The house, which had been appraised at $1.2 million, held $870,000 in equity for Peterson. So the bulk of his Cedar Street home, his pride and joy, was virtually swallowed up by the court.

In order to cover the price of his defense, Peterson was going to have to come up with other resources. But most of those resources were yet to be liquidated. They were still tied to Kathleen Peterson's estate.

After being granted bond, Michael Peterson emerged from the county jail, flanked by David Rudolf and his family of supporters. Peterson gave a brief statement to reporters, telling them that all he really wanted to do was go home. He wanted an opportunity to spend time with his kids. He needed to spend quality time with them, and he needed to be at home, alone, where he could grieve for his wife.

That night was an emotional time for Michael and his kids. They stayed up late, until almost 1:30
A.M.
, just hugging each other and treasuring their every moment. Even though they knew they couldn't make up for the lost Christmas, the children had left up the Christmas tree. They insisted that their dad open the presents under the tree left for Michael, marked “From Santa Claus.”

They ate a big dinner, which had been brought in by Clayton and his girlfriend, Becky, who had gone to a nice restaurant and had ordered all of Michael's favorite dishes. All through dinner, the phone was ringing off the hook. People were calling to wish the family well. Those familiar with Peterson's columns, with Peterson's regular attacks on local officials, felt Michael had been jailed because of some retribution. Many who followed Peterson's political career felt that the DA and the police had taken glee in placing Peterson unfairly behind bars.

Close family and friends all knew that Michael was completely innocent. They were certain that Peterson had been held under false charges, and they were disgusted by the enthusiasm of the press, which had been covering the story with vigor. In many people's minds, the media had added unfair stress for Michael Peterson's kids, who were devastated by the loss of their mom, who felt humiliated and degraded by the trumped-up allegations against their dad.

Even though having their father back home was a huge relief, even though they knew he was an innocent man, the children realized that Michael would still have to stand trial for murder. There would be all kinds of publicity. All kinds of accusations. In between their tears of grief, they tried to understand what the sketchy and confusing details of the murder investigation really added up to. Nothing seemed clear. There was no murder weapon. There was no motive. The charge against their dad was just illogical.

For his part, Michael Peterson would go on local TV broadcasts almost immediately following his release, commenting about his difficulties in grieving for the loss of his wife. Peterson was making sure the public knew that he didn't plan to hide; being an innocent man, he would somehow carry on with life.

Since he was independent-minded, Mr. Peterson had no problem talking with the press about his feelings. He was candid about his sorrow for Kathleen's other family members, and he felt certain that the truth would have a way of winning in the end. It was, after all, the United States, where innocent people were still innocent until proven guilty. Peterson was happy to tell the media that he looked forward to his trial, to proving his innocence in a court of law.

Also following Peterson's release from jail, the Peterson children had given an interview to the Raleigh-based paper
News & Observer,
telling a reporter they could not imagine their Dad having done anything to tear apart their family. The children called Kathleen their mom, and explained how good she was at keeping the family together. Kathleen was the one who insisted on cooking a feast every Sunday; Kathleen was the one who made sure that all of the children interacted with each other's needs and interests. To the reporter, Todd would assert, “We're probably a more loving and cohesive family than anyone I've ever met.”

Todd felt the foundation of their family was built at the dining-room table, where many great stories and conversations had taken place. He recalled with fondness all the chatter, the animated laughter, and Margaret agreed with Todd, saying that there was such a good spirit among them that at times, the Peterson household felt “just like a big old Italian family.”

Martha told the reporter that her ties to Michael Peterson went far beyond the laughter at the dinner table, citing her dad as the support system she could always count on in moments of crisis. According to her, Michael was “the most honest, sincere, kindhearted person anybody could ever know.” Martha said that Michael had taught each of them “the right family values.” Through Michael, she learned to trust her family, believing that her family “would be the only thing that would remain standing,” should all else fail.

As the brothers and sisters chatted with the Raleigh reporter, relaxing in their living-room, where the tall Christmas tree with tiny white lights still twinkled, their dad remained out of sight. Todd believed that the criminal case against his father was an absolute sham. He felt, like so many others, that the local authorities were trying to quiet one of their biggest critics. Todd also felt, now with his father safe at home, that the state's case was beginning to unravel. He was convinced that the DA was stretching, going for a conviction with no basis whatsoever. And the other Peterson kids agreed. In their hearts, they remained confident that their dad would be acquitted.

However, Caitlin Atwater wasn't present during the interview to speak for herself. Todd was speaking for her, explaining that Caitlin was too distraught to be talking to the press. Apparently, Caitlin had gone back up to Cornell. Kathleen's daughter had chosen to isolate herself, unwilling to talk to the media about her grief.

As for the rest of them, they were sure that the worst was behind them. Michael had gone back to writing; Margaret, Martha, and Clayton were going back to their respective lives. None of them had complete faith in the justice system, especially after what they'd been through for so many weeks following Kathleen's death. But Clayton, who was busy rebuilding his life with a new round of college studies, felt that the worst of the nightmare was finally over. “It didn't seem real, it happened so quickly and was so outrageous,” he told the reporter. “But, I mean, I don't think Dad is going back to jail.”

Two weeks after Peterson had come home, his famed attorney had a run-in with the law himself. David Rudolf found himself in a courtroom in Chapel Hill—he was on trial for careless and reckless driving. Apparently, a rookie officer had stopped Rudolf in May 2001 as Rudolf was driving himself to the Durham Regional Hospital. The incident happened at 5:45
A.M.
, and Rudolf, who was in pain and heading into the hospital to have back surgery, allegedly swerved off the road, causing a tractor-trailer to slam on its brakes. According to the rookie officer's testimony, after Rudolf was pulled over, the attorney became irate and started cursing.

At the Chapel Hill District Court, one officer testified that Rudolf said something to the effect of “Do you know who I am?” Then he mentioned that he'd represented Rae Carruth. Rudolf denied making that statement, explaining that if he had mentioned Rae Carruth, it was only after the officer said something about recognizing him from television.

Whatever the truth was about Rudolf's bragging, no one could be sure, but five witnesses testified that David Rudolf used foul language to police, telling one officer, in an obscene way, that the officer was going to lose in court. Allegedly, while Rudolf argued with officers, he made a cellular call to a spokeswoman for the Chapel Hill Police Department at 6:00
A.M.
Rudolf was looking for the Chapel Hill DA's telephone number, and the police spokesman later testified that she, too, could hear him arguing with police.

After other officers arrived on the scene, Rudolf was given a citation. The attorney then pulled away, spinning his tires, flinging mud and gravel on the officers and their cars. The officers claimed Rudolf was fishtailing, and pulled him over a second time, citing him for reckless driving again. District court judge Pat DeVine found Rudolf guilty of the second incident and ordered him to pay a $100 fine and court costs. Rudolf admitted that he lost his temper inappropriately, but he later would file an appeal to fight the ruling against him.

In the meantime, Michael Peterson was feeling bewildered and overwhelmed without having Kathleen in his life. His lawyer's recent squabble with the law was the last thing he cared about. Peterson was confident that his lawyer would be utterly prepared, that David Rudolf would be able to face whatever outrageous contentions the prosecution might put forth in his upcoming murder trial.

But no attorney on earth could have prepared him for the loneliness he was feeling, sitting in that big house, day after day, with nothing left but reminders of Kathleen. When his kids were still around, in the first week after his release, Michael had started writing. Hopeful that he could recover from the tragic accident, he continued writing day after day. Peterson was working on a book about politics and corruption in a small Southern town, but he discovered that his writing couldn't keep his mind off things, especially once his kids had all gone back to college.

With the love of his life missing, his writing didn't come as easily. The writing seemed empty. His spirits couldn't be bolstered, not even by his son Todd. Since Todd was attending a local college, he had decided to live at the Cedar Street home for a while, just to keep a watchful eye on Michael. There were times when Michael seemed so depressed, no one was sure what he might do.

There were many days when Michael broke down and wept. He would go and stare at Kathleen's grave, carrying a little bouquet of flowers, and he would just stand there frozen. Michael still wanted to be near her. Whenever he was by her grave, he felt Kathleen would want him to stay in Durham. But then, there were so many terrible memories for him at Cedar Street, and there was the malicious intent of the local officials. For Michael, living in Durham had become a real dilemma. Once his murder trial ended, he was seriously considering leaving North Carolina and moving far away—perhaps California, perhaps Japan.

But as he looked around their home—at all the objects he and Kathleen had collected from around the world, at the gifts they had received as wedding presents—Michael felt he couldn't bring himself to leave the place he and Kathleen had made their home. To uproot himself and lose every last inch of her, that was too much for him. At least, by having her things around him, he could feel he was still with Kathleen. More than anything, he wished he could have her back, and he had dreams of curling up with her on the couch, just watching TV, chatting and laughing. He would sit at home with the family dogs and watch episodes of
Law & Order
, dreaming of the days when he and his wife would stay home together, all snuggled up, all warm and happy.

Friends and family were still offering support, but that wasn't much comfort anymore. Peterson was having trouble regaining his balance. Without Kathleen, he couldn't seem to get back on his feet again. People still wondered why a special grand jury had been called. They wanted to know why there had been a presumption of guilt at the onset of Kathleen's tragic accident. Michael Peterson had no answers, really, to offer anyone. The roughest times for him were late at night, sitting in the darkness, wondering what the future would hold.