If I Can't Have You: Susan Powell, Her Mysterious Disappearance, and the Murder of Her Children (12 page)

Rachel and Tim—the best friends Josh ever had—saw two distinct Josh Powells. They even named them: Washington Josh and Utah Josh. Washington Josh was quirky and a lot of fun. Utah Josh was controlling and selfish. As close as the couples had been, the Marinis cut off contact with their best friends after an awkward road trip to Puyallup in the spring of 2006.

The weirdness started before they left and escalated every mile of the journey.

As they packed the Marinis’ van, Susan quietly hid an extra bag under a seat.

“What’s that for?” Rachel asked.

Susan wore a grim expression. “If things don’t improve, Charlie and I will stay with my parents. I’m not coming back with him.”

Rachel didn’t know what to make of the remark, but Susan didn’t need prompting to clarify.

“I’ve done everything I can think of to do. Even, at this point, my bishop, my parents, everyone is telling me I’ve done everything and it’s time. I’ve done my due diligence and can leave with a good conscience.”

Susan told Rachel that Josh was talking to his father for hours at a time, several times a week. After every conversation with his dad, Josh was more controlling and more insulting to her.

During the trip they put up for hours at a time with Josh, his pet bird, his berating Susan, his ignoring one-year-old Charlie, his lateness, his disrespect, and his completely annoying cheapness.

“We had to eat out along the way, and he would let Susan order one thing from the dollar menu,” Rachel recalled. “He’d get a tray full of stuff for himself but she was allowed to order just one thing on the dollar menu. And we were buying extra stuff and slipping it to her.”

Rachel felt sick about the changes she’d seen in the couple. Susan was angry and fearful. Josh seemed bitter and cruel. Something terrible had happened between them.

“They were happy as newlyweds. Josh was a very different person when they lived in Washington. He was still annoying, and talked your ear off. He never shut up. He was obsessive about things, but he wasn’t controlling. I loved hanging out with them. They were our best friends. I remember going home after that trip and talking about it: Love, love, love, love, love ‘Washington Josh’ and Susan; do not like ‘Utah Josh,’” Rachel said. “It was like he was possessed or something. It was like he was a completely different person.”

Rachel noticed that Josh and Susan’s bickering seemed to be contagious; she and Tim argued more after being around their friends. That’s when they knew they had to make a break.

*   *   *

Like other Realtors, Josh wanted the exposure that came with an ad in the Yellow Pages. A big ad meant big success. The Yellow Pages publisher required a deposit and then a monthly payment for the promotion. Josh agreed to an $83,000 contract and also bought ads on city bus benches and thousands of refrigerator magnets. In a photograph duplicated on the magnets, Josh is wearing a smart leather jacket and smiling. All in all, it was going to cost him nearly six figures. The commitment was huge for even a veteran agent, let alone a newbie like Josh.

Not long after the ads started appearing and magnets were stuck all over friends’ refrigerators—and reality set in—Josh had a change of heart. He told Chuck and Judy that a phone number on the magnets had been incorrect and that a Yellow Pages employee had written a letter absolving Josh of any responsibility for the cost of the marketing. In reality, Yellow Pages sued Josh for the debt, so Josh sued Yellow Pages. He shrugged off the incident and decided the way out of debt was to declare bankruptcy. Josh planned for it, deliberately maxing out credit cards and buying clothes and expensive tools at Sears and JCPenney. Susan begged him not to, saying it wasn’t honest, but he did it anyway. In April 2007 the Powells filed for Chapter 7, listing more than $200,000 in credit card, furniture, student loans, and other debts, not including their mortgage and car.

*   *   *

When Josh’s real estate career completely dissolved, Josh wanted John Hellewell to teach him computer programming. John said no, that he had better things to do than spend the day programming at work, then spend the evening with Josh Powell instead of his wife and children. It was Kiirsi who made it happen. She made a deal with Josh.

“I’ve got a proposition for you, Josh,” she said, when he refused to let up on his latest plan of action.

Josh looked at her suspiciously. “What is that?”

“I’ll tell John it’s okay to work with you in the evening …
if
you go to church once a month and spend ten minutes a week with Susan. Just ten minutes!”

“I dunno,” Josh said.

“And it’s not ten minutes on your laptop, or computer. Just sitting by Susan, holding her hand. Maybe watching a movie together.”

“No,” Josh said. “I can’t do that. I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not, Josh. That’s the deal. John teaches you programming … for
free
. All you have to do is go to church once a month and pay Susan some attention.”

Josh, not without reluctance, finally agreed.

He didn’t stick to the agreement for long. He stopped going to church. He stopped paying Susan even the few minutes of attention Kiirsi had mandated. Instead, his sole focus became his new career—computer programming. As John continued evening training sessions, Josh got an IT job at Aspen Distribution, a trucking and warehousing company.

At the time, Susan wrote to a friend:

They gave him a work issued laptop and an identity badge so I know he feels special. I pray and hope that his skills will keep his company satisfied and he can stay long term.

Despite Josh’s new career and Susan’s hope that her husband would find his way in the world and some stability in a new career, she was taking concrete steps to formulate an escape plan. The day he was at his job interview, Susan was home on the phone calling around to divorce attorneys, setting up phone consultations. She wrote in another e-mail:

I did manage to get ahold of one and feel a lot better about my rights.

On the advice of a divorce attorney, Susan made a videotape of their belongings. Looking into the camera, with Charlie underfoot, Susan narrated the tour of their home:

This is me. July 29, 2008. It is 12:33 Mountain Time. I’m covering all my bases making sure that if something happens to me or my family or all of us that our assets are documented. Hope everything works out and we’re all happy and live happily ever after, as much as that’s possible.

On the last sentence she smiled slightly and rolled her eyes while sounding skeptical.

During the forty-four-minute video she pointed out Josh’s elaborate computer setup in the basement, with multiple screens and five hard drives; his locked filing cabinets; 3,000 pounds of wheat stored in huge buckets and bags; thousands of dollars’ worth of tools, cameras and bikes; an unused treadmill; a $300 meat grinder; Josh’s remote-controlled cars; every type of saw made; a motorcycle; welding machine; strollers; and old VCRs. In the garage is what Susan calls the “chemical cabinet,” multiple shelves of lawn and plant chemicals, and carton after carton of new, unopened furniture, window blinds, and water purification systems.

The video shows a family in chaos. The contents of the house, garage, yard, and storage shed aren’t just the everyday young family’s belongings. It’s a picture of both obsessive spending and hoarding. The clutter, the stacks of stuff, are overwhelming to see. Josh never met a tool or gadget he didn’t covet.

Susan was afraid Josh would find the video, so she gave it to Kiirsi for safekeeping, in case anything happened to her.

13

I don’t know how you can help except talk with me and be another individual that would know about the situation if questioned b/c things went crazy later. Sad that I’m this paranoid.

—SUSAN POWELL E-MAIL, JULY 7, 2008

On Monday, December 14, the day after his church opened its arms to him, Josh failed to show up for a police interview—and for the polygraph the police wanted to administer. When word got out, people were saddened and suspicious that he wouldn’t meet with the police or move heaven and earth to find Susan.

His Salt Lake City attorney, Scott Williams, said Josh had cancelled the Monday meeting because the lawyer needed time to “advise and consult.” Josh also contacted a media consultant so he would “look and sound more sympathetic when questioned about Susan Marie Powell’s disappearance.”

The police did see Josh briefly on Tuesday, December 15, when they obtained a warrant to collect a DNA sample. The detective trained to draw blood repeatedly asked Josh if he was anxious or nervous. He was so tense it was difficult to draw the blood sample.

It was the last time Josh would ever talk to the West Valley City police.

He answered general questions about Susan, although his attorney answered most of the questions and spoke for Josh. The police asked about Susan’s shoe size, any scars she had, what kind of jewelry she wore, and how recently she had highlighted her hair. Josh refused to take a polygraph and wouldn’t pinpoint exactly where he and the boys had gone camping. He was still vague about naming Simpson Springs.

West Valley City police had already flown state helicopters over the Simpson Springs area and within a few days they would be on the ground, inspecting dozens of mines along the Pony Express Trail.

The police said they still had questions about the camping trip and Susan’s state of mind on the Sunday she vanished.

“We’re not marriage counselors,” Assistant Police Chief Craig Black told the media. “If she wants to be away, that’s her business. We just would like to have information that helps us find her.”

On Wednesday, December 16, police named Josh a “person of interest.” They said that he had information and details that could help locate Susan and described an “unusual lack of cooperation” on his part. They said that the case was suspicious and stopped short of calling it a criminal investigation, but were busy preparing warrants for Josh’s work computer, telephones, mobile records, USB drives, and the family’s bank accounts.

That same week, the Coxes held a news conference in Puyallup. Sitting at a long table with his wife, his daughters, and his parents John and Anne, Chuck said that Susan had never said anything about being afraid or wanting to leave the marriage. With a Christmas tree behind him and tears in his eyes, Chuck called Josh “a super father” to the boys and said he didn’t think the marriage was ever abusive.

Like he’d done when he hugged him at church, Susan’s father tried to keep his true fears from being known. He didn’t want to scare or push Josh into doing something that could harm Susan … if she was still alive. Chuck was holding out hope that Josh had locked Susan up somewhere, and if the police put pressure on him, Josh would cave and say where she was.

Inside, Chuck never believed that camping trip story for one minute.

Who would?

*   *   *

By the end of the first week of Susan’s disappearance everyone, especially local and national media, were well into the familiar routine that follows the disappearance of a missing young woman, especially a pretty one. First, hundreds of people gather in groups to help search the areas in which the missing woman was last seen. Next, suspicion falls on the husband or boyfriend. Then as pressure mounts, candlelight vigils and colored ribbons mark the woman’s disappearance. While there was no massive search—there was no place
to
search—there was a vigil, and there were remembrance ribbons for Susan in purple, her favorite color.

Susan Powell’s disappearance, however, was different from that of other women who go missing or are murdered. Police had never been called to the Powell home on a domestic disturbance. Josh didn’t appear to have a secret life. There was no other woman, or man, with whom he was sneaking around.

Utahans know a thing or two about missing people. Thousands turned out to help search for Elizabeth Smart when the fourteen-year-old was kidnapped from her bedroom in her house in Salt Lake City in 2002. In 2004, they helped again, that time searching for Lori Kay Soares Hacking. Her husband said she didn’t return from a morning jog.

Chuck Cox was a quick study. He’d picked up on the media’s fascination with a missing girl, a news hook that even had a name: “missing white woman syndrome.” Television in particular devoted a disproportionate amount of air time to crimes involving a young, attractive, white, middle-class woman or girl. Susan’s father took advantage of this to give the media everything they wanted, all in an effort to find his daughter. By the end of the first week, Chuck had given at least forty interviews, including to
Larry King Live
,
Good Morning America
,
The Today Show
, and
Geraldo.

Susan’s friends—and most of Josh’s friends—began to suspect Josh. Although their marriage had been sealed for eternity in the temple, Susan had contemplated divorce. She had started to stand up for herself. Friends said she would never, ever have walked away from her boys and that she would not have permitted the midnight camping trip. Some knew that she had found a way to set some money aside, just in case.

They reflected on Josh’s odd personality and offbeat sense of humor and were reminded of bizarre comments he had made, which took on a sinister light in retrospect.

They remembered how Josh, in casual conversations, seemed obsessed with how one could get away with murder. He talked about the mistakes Mark Hacking had made when the Salt Lake City man reported his wife, twenty-seven-year-old Lori, missing July 19, 2004. According to family members, Lori Hacking was five weeks’ pregnant at the time. Mark Hacking eventually confessed to shooting his wife and disposing of her body in a Dumpster. Josh said Hacking “screwed up disposing of his wife’s body” and that it was best to “stick close to the truth” when talking to the police and “don’t tell too many lies.”

The husband of a coworker remembered a Christmas party in 2008 when Josh talked about his fascination with TV crime investigation shows. He discussed “how to kill someone, dispose of the body, and not get caught,” and told the partygoer that Utah’s thousands of mine shafts and tunnels were the perfect place to “dispose of someone and no one would ever search for the body.”