A Perfect Husband (29 page)

In many ways, the case had become a tale of two sisters. There were the Ratliff sisters, Margaret and Martha, who were standing by their legal guardian, the man they called Dad, Michael Peterson. There were Kathleen's sisters, Candace Zamperini and Lori Campell, who had been waiting for twenty months to see justice, who, after seeing the evidence, had become convinced that their brother-in-law had killed their sibling. And there were Elizabeth's sisters, Margaret Blair and Rosemary Kelloway, who had been misled at the time of Elizabeth's death, and had been told that Elizabeth only suffered a small loss of blood behind her ear.

Now all three sets of sisters would sit on opposite sides of the courtroom, each in her own private hell, each in her own state of denial, disbelief, and despair. The Ratliff girls were not speaking to any of their aunts—not Margaret or Rosemary, not Candace or Lori. It was as if the girls blamed their aunts for coming forward, as though the Ratliff girls felt their aunts were all part of this great conspiracy that had been launched against Michael Peterson.

When state medical examiner Dr. Aaron Gleckman testified before the members of the jury, explaining that Elizabeth Ratliff's death was not due to a medical condition or a fall, that her death was a result of a “homicidal assault,” the reality hit home with Liz's sisters. They weeped as the results of the autopsy were explained, and they were subjected to graphic comparisons between the two deaths, photos being shown of the seven lacerations to the scalps of each murdered woman.

Following Gleckman's testimony, Dr. Thomas Bouldin, a UNC neuropathologist, testified about disturbing findings regarding Kathleen Peterson. Bouldin would tell jurors that “red neurons” were present in Kathleen's brain, which was proof that she had experienced a decreased flow of blood to her brain for approximately two hours before her death. Kathleen's sisters hung their heads and quietly sobbed as they thought of Kathleen lying helpless in her own blood, awake and fighting for her life, for a good part of that time.

As for Michael Peterson, none of it seemed to faze him. On the day the evidence about Elizabeth Ratliff began, Peterson donned a fresh red carnation on his lapel, as if there were some special message he was sending to the universe. Michael Peterson was great at throwing kinks into the trial. He had certain things up his sleeve, and he would continue to make accusations behind the scenes. It was clear from the looks on their faces that his brothers, his sons, his few friends, and, of course, the Ratliff girls completely believed in him.

 

 

Peterson and his defense team were wired with microphones throughout the trial. They all believed wholeheartedly that the jury would have much reasonable doubt in their minds. There were so many errors that police made; there was no tangible proof prosecutors could offer. There was no way a jury could convict him—could send a man to spend the rest of his life in prison—without being absolutely positive that he was guilty.

And the jurors, the twelve members and the four alternates, were looking over at Peterson with favorable expressions. From looking at their faces, it was obvious that the jurors felt sorry for Peterson's flock, that some of the female jurors seemed to dwell, particularly, on Margaret and Martha Ratliff, who, having lost their other parents, would be losing the only parent they had left.

But the jurors seemed to shift their emotions. They certainly had harder expressions on their faces after they heard the testimony of Candace Zamperini. For months, Kathleen's sister had driven from her home in Virginia to be present in the Durham Superior Court. Candace was a well-dressed, well-spoken woman, who sat in the front row behind the prosecutors. She was often seen holding Caitlin's hand, or offering a shoulder for her sister, Lori, to lean on.

Candace wanted justice. She wanted her sister to be able to rest in peace.

From the evidence already presented, jurors had seen lacerations, bruises, and scrapes. In all, there were thirty-five wounds covering Kathleen Peterson's body, and there was the crushed thyroid cartilage Kathleen suffered, which showed attempted strangulation. Before she testified, Candace had been forced to sit through months of testimony that would attempt to exonerate Michael Peterson. She would suffer his endless laughing, his whispered snide remarks, and his angry glares when the jurors weren't present.

But now, just after Labor Day weekend, it was her turn.

Holding the brass fireplace tool in her hands, the blow poke that she herself owned, Candace told the jury that the blow poke had become a “fixture” in Kathleen's home. Candace said she had bought the tool for herself, and had given the identical item to each of her siblings at Christmas in 1984. Candace had seen the item in her sister's home over the years; she had even used it, recalling Thanksgiving 1999, when she and her sister decided to light a fire to make things festive as they prepared the holiday dinner.

Candace showed the jury three pictures of Kathleen's home, pointing out the blow poke, which was always sitting in the background near the fireplace. Jim Hardin then offered the blow poke to the jurors, so each of them could hold the hollow item. Two of the jurors actually gripped it and swung the blow poke, as if they were pounding something.

Then Candace, who was fighting back tears, told jurors about a trip that she and her sisters made to Fort Myers, Florida. The family had joined up for a reunion in May 2001. It was a visit to see their mother, Veronica, and Candace and Kathleen were roommates, sharing a bedroom as they had when they were little girls growing up together.

Candace testified that, while in Florida, she and Kathleen “talked for hours” about their lives, each giving away secrets. During their conversations, Kathleen had talked about the stress she was under at work. Kathleen said she was spending twelve-to-fourteen-hour days at her job, that she was unhappy having to lay off so many employees, and yet she felt she had to “stick it out to the bitter end.” Kathleen confided that she “would not have a job by the end of the year.” She expressed concerns about having to pay college tuition for three children, and she complained that she no longer had any time for herself. She was feeling run-down and having headaches, yet she had no time to go to a doctor. For the first time, ever, Kathleen had confided that she felt exhausted and tired, that she had been drinking and taking Valium because things were so dire at home.

Kathleen talked about the falling price of Nortel stock, and she explained that she had lost her life's blood in the stock market. Kathleen talked about the looming expenses at her home, and she admitted she no longer could afford the upkeep. There was water damage from a leaky roof, and also $10,000 in termite damage. There were major plumbing problems, there were bats in the attic, the problems seemed endless, and Kathleen couldn't afford to fix any of it. Kathleen confided that she wanted a smaller home, but she said Michael wouldn't consider that possibility.

Candace told jurors that her sister “felt sick that nothing was turning around” at Nortel, and cried tears about losing over $1 million in stock prices, which were continuing to fall. Candace explained that she tried to console her sister, that she had suggested that Kathleen look elsewhere for a job. But that didn't seem to be a viable option for Kathleen. Kathleen had climbed to the top of the ladder at Nortel, and at her age, she felt she wouldn't be hireable at the same salary elsewhere.

Hours later, as Candace went through the events surrounding her sister's death, describing the blood on the walls in the Peterson stairwell, explaining her attempts to clean up the blood, she told jurors about spraying Windex in the stairwell, about her desire to hide the horrific scene from other family members.

“I found blood running down my arm,” Candace testified, her voice weakening. “I just really remember reaching my arm up and spraying the cat picture.”

And with that, Candace Zamperini broke down in tears.

As she sat on the witness stand in her black suit and pearls, the woman tried to compose herself. She made every effort to keep her head held high, but the court had to take a brief recess. Candace found herself being led away by her husband, Mark, and her sister, Lori. She had been whisked out of the courtroom so her tears could no longer be visible.

When Candace took the stand again, she was grilled by David Rudolf. The attorney asked questions pointing to Candace's initial belief in her brother-in-law's innocence. He asked Zamperini to explain why she made statements to police, early on, about what a wonderful marriage her sister Kathleen enjoyed with Michael Peterson.

But, in her final remarks to the jury, Candace testified that whatever opinion she ever had of Michael Peterson, whatever support she had shown him early on, was a result of misguided thoughts.

“Sitting here today, I have no idea who Mike Peterson is, none whatsoever,” she testified. “Who he held himself out to be, and who he's turned out to be, I have no idea who he is.”

It would be ten weeks into the trial, after jurors heard testimony about “thousands” of blood spatters at the scene, after they had been shown haunting photos of the Peterson stairwell, that the defense team would make a curious decision. David Rudolf, Michael Peterson, and the rest of his group thought it would be best for jurors to head to the mansion; this way, they could see the blood in the stairwell for themselves.

The jurors were getting much more than they bargained for. Having given up their summer vacations, having listened to cross-examinations and all kinds of varying opinions, suddenly this group of good citizens found themselves being driven over to Forest Hills, escorted by bailiffs and attorneys from both sides. The eight women and four men of the jury, along with their four alternates, became solemn as they were driven up the long and winding driveway. They surely would have been impressed with their immediate surroundings, if it weren't for the fact that they were being led directly to the back stairway of the Peterson house. At Rudolf's request, this staircase had been kept boarded up, and preserved since December 14, 2001.

As the stairwell was being opened, no one could have anticipated the mystic vapor that would exude from behind the plywood. There was that smell of death, that smell of decay, dull and faint, but discernible. No one said anything at the time, but the odor, which the jurors endured, just seemed incomprehensible.

Even though everyone remained silent, even though not a word was spoken at the house, the scene in the stairwell looked like a horrible nightmare. The jurors scanned the narrow staircase, which, until then, had disturbance from external air only once, when Dr. Henry Lee had examined it. As the jurors looked at the scene in person, the totality of the blood was disturbing. There was blood on the woodwork, on the walls, and on the famous black-cat poster. It was blood that had rotted over time, it had turned brown, yet the blood made its way down the wall in so many unusual patterns.

It was a stark contrast from the front stairwell of the house, which was a white spiral work of elaborate architecture, sitting in the middle of a room that was large and lofty. Jurors would catch a glimpse of the beautiful antique tapestry hanging beside the front stairwell—a medieval print that had been purchased by Elizabeth and George Ratliff on their honeymoon—which they had heard some brief testimony about.

But it would be in the back staircase—that the jurors hesitated. It was there that the phantasm of Kathleen in crimson blood, the image of her mangled body, had become all the more accessible. From within the house, the stairwell lent itself to a sense of bitter struggle. It had become eerie—like a vault that entombed Kathleen Peterson's shrieks—her death cries.

Yet it must not have occurred to Peterson or anyone in his camp that the jurors would be struck by the inconsistency they faced. In Peterson's view, the amount of dried blood seemed to support the claim that his wife had fallen down the stairs. And Peterson's lawyers had anticipated that jurors would agree. Rudolf and Maher were convinced that once the jurors saw the actual scene, they would observe the physical confirmation of Kathleen's tragic fall.

But the odors in the place were oppressive and the sight of all that dried blood conjured images of torment. The scene was morbid. To some, the mansion seemed like a haunted place, and the echoes of Kathleen and Elizabeth, both tortured spirits, no longer seemed to be so completely abstract.

In a demonstration for the jury, famed expert Dr. Henry Lee dropped red ink on a white poster to show how the diameter of blood spatter could increase with velocity. The arrival of Dr. Henry Lee had brought out additional media, the courtroom was jammed, and jurors seemed mystified by Dr. Lee's grace, by his easy smile. Dr. Lee's opinion covered two days of testimony, September 15 and 16, during which time the forensic expert found many things wrong with the state's case.

Henry Lee, with a Ph.D. in biochemistry, had built the Connecticut State Police an internationally recognized laboratory. His fame had gone global with his 1995 testimony in the O.J. Simpson trial, and he would be deemed America's top forensic scientist. People had driven from all parts of the Research Triangle hoping to have a chance to meet him.

Dr. Henry Lee signed copies of his books. His signed autographs.

The man was a legend.

The crime scene analyst would spit up gobs of ketchup to underscore his point that Kathleen may have coughed up blood, testifying that there was “too much blood” for anyone to be able to make exact determinations about what happened in the stairwell. He testified that it was possible that the bloodstain patterns had been caused by Kathleen Peterson shaking her hair, by any variety of motions.

“We have to look at the totality, everything, before we jump to the conclusion that this was a beating,” Dr. Lee told jurors. “To reconstruct, you have to look at the totality. You cannot look at one isolated pattern and make a picture.”

According to Henry Lee, Agent Duane Deaver's blood spatter experiments were nothing more than “child's play.” Dr. Lee found Deaver's work to be rather useless, stating that it would be impossible for anyone to re-create the stairway scene in a laboratory.

“In your opinion,” Rudolf asked, “is the bloodstain evidence consistent with a beating death?”

“No,” Lee said. “Inconsistent with.”

Dr. Lee focused on the outside of the stairwell. He testified about the three “points of origin” in space, saying that the blood source could have come from anywhere, from someone's head hitting a surface, from someone coughing. Lee explained that, in his view, a point of origin was not necessarily a point of impact.

He testified that anything could have created the blood spatter, that the three points of origin did not mean that a beating had occurred. Dr. Lee disagreed with Agent Deaver's opinion that the particular spatter on the wall—in the corner of the stairwell—came from someone beating Kathleen Peterson with some sort of blunt object.

Dr. Henry Lee disagreed with all of Duane Deaver's opinions. Looking at an enhanced photo of the crime scene, Lee recognized a “swipe mark” in the stairwell, but claimed the swipe mark didn't indicate any cleanup of the area. If there had been an attempt to clean up, Lee testified, the person had done “a lousy job.”

Regarding the blood droplets found inside Peterson's shorts, again, Dr. Lee had a different view. Henry Lee stood up in front of the jury to illustrate the possible ways blood spatter had gotten in the inside leg of Peterson's shorts, pointing out that Michael Peterson was “a skinny guy, with not too much meat.”

Dr. Lee testified that because Mr. Peterson was wearing “baggy shorts,” because there was a lot of space between the flesh and the fabric, “any configuration” could have caused the drops of blood. Mr. Peterson's walking on a step, his sitting down—Lee said there were a lot of possibilities.

“Based on your education, and your training, and your experience, and your own observations and findings in this case,” Rudolf asked, “do you have an opinion to a reasonable degree of scientific certainty as to whether the totality of the evidence in this case from the scene is more consistent with an accident?”

“It's more consistent with an accident,” Lee testified.

Later that afternoon, under cross-examination, Jim Hardin was able to get Henry Lee to admit that the “points of origin” that Agent Deaver located were each origins for blood that were created “out in space.” Nevertheless, Dr. Lee would contend that locating a point of origin did not necessarily equate a beating.

Prior to Lee's testimony, a neuropathologist, Dr. Jan Leestma, had testified on behalf of the defense. Dr. Leestma told jurors that he believed Kathleen Peterson's death had been the result of an accidental fall. Like Dr. Henry Lee, Dr. Jan Leestma was being paid $500 an hour to testify about his opinion. In essence, Dr. Leestma told jurors that Kathleen Peterson had suffered two falls, causing four impacts. However, when Jim Hardin asked the hired expert to explain exactly how that might have occurred, Leestma told Jim Hardin to ask a blood spatter expert, or a biomechanical engineer, for that answer.

“So I'm asking you, since it was Dr. Leestma's opinion that she had two falls and four impacts,” Hardin said to Dr. Lee, “as the blood spatter expert, can you please explain to this jury the sequence of events about how that happened?”

“With all due respect,” Dr. Lee answered, “I can't really give you the sequence of events. I cannot. I don't know exactly which one fall is first or second.”

“Well, in fact, Dr. Lee, you can't even say that all those lacerations were caused by falls, can you?”

“I did not say that.”

“Well, that's what I want to understand,” Hardin pressed, “you can't say?”

“I cannot say that,” Lee responded.

“You can't say that all of those lacerations were caused by falls?”

“I don't know,” Lee testified. “That's outside the area of my expertise.”

By the time Jim Hardin finished with his cross-examination, Dr. Henry Lee's testimony wasn't seeming quite as worthy as his reputation. A recently retired commissioner of public safety in Connecticut, a coauthor of definitive books on forensics, Dr. Henry Lee had spent hours on the witness stand, had been a showman, had flung ketchup and red ink, but he hadn't convinced the courtroom observers. He was smooth. He was fun to watch. People gawked at Dr. Henry Lee. But not everyone was sure he had the right opinion.

Regardless, the forensic man was still treated like a star. The folks in Durham read articles about him with fascination. The local papers drew cartoon caricatures of him. Dr. Henry Lee had been so comfortable on the stand, so confident in front of the TV cameras, he had even brought some levity to the situation. Throughout his testimony, he had managed to crack a few jokes.

Caitlin Atwater, however, would later confide that Dr. Lee's attitude bothered her. She couldn't understand Lee's theory that there was “too much blood” for the death to have been a beating, yet not too much blood for a fall. She realized that the man was highly respected, but Caitlin felt his opinion didn't make sense. Caitlin was upset and offended by Dr. Lee's courtroom performance.

“I understand he was trying to be personable,” she later confided. “But the people in the courtroom were laughing about my mother's blood.”