Love, Lies, and Murder (27 page)

Arthur March was then cross-examined by Perry’s attorney William Massey as the deposition continued. Massey took him through the typical formalities of general remarks about Arthur’s age and general health and well-being. Arthur explained that he had good days as well as bad days with regard to his health. He said that his health problems were related primarily to his heart and high blood pressure, and now, since his “kidnapping” by “the Mexicans” when he was deported, he had problems with his right leg requiring him to use a cane to walk. Massey took him through details about his family, particularly his children in which it was described that Perry was the oldest of three, Ron was the middle child, and Kathy was the youngest, “the baby.”

“Was your relationship with all your children good?” Massey asked.

“It’s always been good, up until now,” Arthur replied.

“Is it strained now?”

“From what I hear, it is. I don’t know.”

“What was your relationship with Janet March?”

“She was my daughter-in-law.”

“Did you get along well with her?”

“Uh, yes and no.”

Massey asked him to explain what he meant.

“Well, she was—the best way I can describe it, she was a typical JAP. . . .”

“And, by JAP, you mean?”

“Jewish American Princess. And . . . I was not comfortable with her. . . . I didn’t think she . . . did anything with Perry. When she built the house, she went to her father when she wanted—anything she wanted. If she needed it, she went to her father. To my knowledge, Perry was . . . there for show purposes.”

“Were you . . . in the presence of Perry and Janet a number of times?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess you’d say it was a number of times. It wasn’t . . . a lot of times because—uh—only ate with Janet in her home three times in five years. She was not a cook and a homemaker.”

“Was she friendly to you?”

“Yeah, she seemed to be. We both knew where we—she knew what I felt and I knew how she felt.”

“And did you both respect that?”

“Yeah.”

“Or, at least acknowledge that?”

“Well, I didn’t acknowledge it. That was her feelings and she was used to being a JAP. And anything she wanted, she just had to whistle for it.”

“Did she have a temper?”

“Oh yeah!”

“You say that very emphatically.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Why do you say that so emphatically?” Massey pressed.

“Well, I saw . . . her make Perry leave the house several times and she . . . was just used to getting her way and she was gonna have it.”

Massey then took Arthur through a lengthy session of questions related to his plea agreement. At times Massey hammered home the difference between the actual sentencing guidelines and the amount of time that Arthur would likely receive as a result of his plea agreement. He fashioned his questions at times in a manner that seemed dedicated at discrediting Arthur’s sworn testimony to call into question the strong motivation that a substantially reduced sentence could hold over someone in his shoes. Massey wanted to drive home the point that under the plea agreement, the government could withdraw it if it was deemed that Arthur had not cooperated with them.

“And if the government determines that you have not cooperated fully, that you’ve not been all the way truthful, then, they can prosecute you for perjury?” Massey asked.

“Now, Mr. Massey,” Arthur said, “I’m a retired army officer. Congress granted me the right to be an officer and a gentleman. And, to remain that way, I have to tell the truth.”

“I understand,” Massey said. “But I have to ask you some questions about the plea agreement that you entered into with the government, okay? This isn’t my agreement. It’s an agreement that you entered into with the government and I have to ask you some questions about it. . . . I’ll try to be as brief as I can about it, okay?”

“I know.”

“I don’t mean offense,” Massey continued. “But the government in its sole discretion, they’re the ones that get to decide. . . . If they decide that you haven’t been truthful, they can prosecute you for perjury, you understand that?”

“I understand that.”

“And they can charge you with other crimes—”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Okay. And they can recommend a sentence up to that statutory maximum of twenty years.”

“That’s the way the ball bounces,” Arthur replied.

“And, at seventy-eight years old, the odds are that you wouldn’t make it out of prison; isn’t that right, Colonel?”

“That’s for damn sure. I almost didn’t make it two weeks ago. . . .”

“So, again, it is in your best interest to tell the truth.”

“Yes,” Arthur replied.

Arthur explained that pleading guilty had been Perry’s idea—Perry had asked his father to plead guilty, according to Arthur, because he had purportedly told his father that he was going to do the same thing.

“And that’s why I did it,” Arthur said. “I told the truth.”

“I understand. It is correct to say that it is in your best interest to—”

“Tell the truth,” Arthur said, finishing the sentence for Massey.

Massey took Arthur through the process of Perry arriving in Ajijic after he left the United States, and how Arthur had helped set him up. The questions and answers painted a picture of how Perry had met Chavez, and Carmen, and how Perry and Carmen had eventually opened the Media Luna restaurant. Arthur explained that its name means “half-moon” in Spanish.

“What type of restaurant is that?” Massey asked.

“It . . . started out as a bistro, and then became a full-time restaurant. . . . His wife ran the kitchen and he ran the front.”

“Was he still working his consulting job at that time, or did he stop?”

“I—I assume he was. I did not know. I never asked Perry how he made his money.”

“Do you have knowledge of any type of illegal activity Perry was engaging in in Mexico?”

“No.”

“As far as you know . . . he worked at legitimate businesses?”

“That’s right.”

“Made honest money?”

“Honest, as far as I know.”

Massey spent considerable time going over a timeline with Arthur that had been put together by the district attorney’s office. Arthur ended up disputing much of the timeline to the point where it seemed questionable with regard to its accuracy. They eventually arrived back to the time when Perry had left Nashville to go to Chicago for Rosh Hashanah a few weeks after Janet disappeared.

“And you know that when Perry March returned to Nashville (after Rosh Hashanah) was when he told you that he needed help with Janet’s body,” Massey continued.

“That’s—that’s right,” Arthur replied.

“And . . . you told him you would help him.”

“Yeah, that’s why I did it.”

“And, I believe you said because he’s your son.”

“That’s right.”

“And that’s the first that you had ever heard that Janet wasn’t—hadn’t just walked off or that she was in—uh—California,” Massey said, reminding him of the initial story that had been circulated to explain Janet’s sudden absence to her friends and acquaintances.

“No,” Arthur disagreed. “That is the second time. The first time . . . that Perry told me about it was at the house when he asked me to clean up. . . . He was afraid there was some bloodstains. That’s the first time—so this, this was the second time.”

“All right, I see,” Massey said.

“This was the convincer, ’cause when he told me the first time . . . all I know [was] that she was dead,” Arthur said. “He never mentioned that he killed her, never. Perry never mentioned that he killed Janet. He used the term ‘accident. ’”

“I want . . . to know in the timeline of when you arrived in Nashville, when Perry first told you about . . . cleaning the blood. . . . Is that the first time that he mentioned something to you about it when . . . he asked you to clean?”

“That’s the first time he had . . . mentioned that Janet was dead.”

“What was that . . . conversation centered around? What was he asking you to do?”

“He was asking me to check on the entranceway to the kitchen for the—uh—if there were any bloodstains.”

As Massey continued his line of questioning about the bloodstains, he seemed intent on learning the precise location of where Perry had purportedly directed his father to look for signs of blood. He also tried to extract from Arthur’s memory a more precise time frame of when Perry and his father had the conversation about the cleanup, in relation to when Perry had asked his father to help him dispose of Janet’s body. Arthur claimed that he could not recall precisely when those conversations had occurred, but he believed that they had taken place within days of each other, perhaps “within a week.”

“When you say Perry asked you to help clean up, or look for blood, what . . . exactly did he ask you to do?”

“Just clean the gravel around the entranceway,” Arthur said. “There was a parking lot there, if anybody remembers. They used to park the car out there and then go into the kitchen with groceries or whatever the hell it was, and take it into the kitchen. And he said that I should check it and clean it up and see if there was any—anything, that he was afraid there might be some blood there. And that was the reason he told me that she was dead.”

“So, directed your attention to outside in the—was it in the back or the side?”

“There—there’s an entrance to the kitchen on the side,” Arthur explained. “You pull the car in, park the car, get out of the car, and . . . you can go into the kitchen from there. That was the place he told me that there might be some blood.”

“Is that close to the backyard or the side yard?”

“Well, I’m not sure that’s considered a yard. That was a driveway . . . on that side by the kitchen. It was not considered—I didn’t consider it—uh . . . a backyard. I considered it part of the driveway.”

“Other than outside on this gravel, were you asked to look for the presence of blood anywhere else?”

“Not to my recollection.”

Arthur also said that he had not found any blood to clean up.

“Do you remember . . . when Perry . . . told you . . . that he needed help disposing of the body? Do you remember what time of day it was that he told you, evening or morning, or—”

“No. It was—I think it was in the afternoon, but I’m not—I can’t really give you a definite time, ’cause I don’t . . . remember.”

“Did you leave that same day to go to where the body was?”

“That night.”

“That night,” Massey repeated. “And you were in which vehicle?”

“The Volvo. He was driving . . . driving. I’m sorry.”

Arthur said that he was “pretty convinced” that the location he led the police to was where the body had been hidden. He said that it had been covered with dirt, but indicated that it wasn’t a lot of dirt because he could scrape it away with his hands. In response to questions about Janet’s weight and height, Arthur said that she weighed about one hundred pounds and was nearly the same height as Perry. He said that she was not a heavy lady.

“Once you were able to locate this bag with her . . . you say her remains were in it, right? Then, did you pick the bag up?”

“I didn’t pick it up with two hands,” Arthur replied. “I brought it down . . . pulling it. I mean, I didn’t lift it, ’cause it was a little . . . heavy. I don’t even pick up a fifty-pound dog-food bag. . . .”

Massey entered into a round of questioning to try and more clearly ascertain the size of the leaf bag that held Janet’s body, which, Arthur finally clarified, was the same thing as a garbage bag, but that it was a large bag. He said that it had not been double-bagged, but that her body had been placed inside a single black garbage bag, which he dragged down a small hill to the road, where Perry then met him with the car. He explained that Perry had helped him lift the bag containing Janet’s body to place it in the Volvo’s trunk. They also talked about Janet’s weight when she was alive.

“Do you think she weighed a hundred pounds when she was alive?” Massey asked.

“I know I never lifted her, so I don’t know,” Arthur said. “I don’t think she weighed more than a hundred pounds. She took very good care of her body.”

“When you got the bag . . . when you went up . . . to the wooded area to find the body . . . did you look in it at the time?”

“No . . . it was, like, almost open, but it wasn’t. And all I saw at that point was some bones and some clothing. And . . . I closed it back up and took it back down.”

“Okay. And you said at that point you didn’t . . . recall any kind of putrid smell or bad smell?”

“No.”

As the deposition continued, Massey eventually turned his line of questioning toward whether or not Arthur felt that his family had been persecuted.

“Mr. March, did you ever feel that your family . . . unit were being persecuted?”

“By the Levines? Yes.”

“What about by the police? Did you feel that the police were acting on behalf of the Levines?”

“They were just doing what the Levines wanted them to do, ’cause, as you know, Carolyn Levine is the queen of the Jewish Mafia in Tennessee and Nashville. And, she could . . . do whatever she wanted.”

“What is the Jewish Mafia?”

“If you don’t understand it, I can’t explain it to you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand it.”

“You know what a ‘Mafia’ is, the word means?” Arthur asked. “And you know what ‘Jewish’ means. And you don’t understand those two words together?”

At one point Massey took Arthur through a lengthy question-and-answer session regarding Nathaniel Farris, aka Bobby Givings, and the plans to kill the Levines that Perry and Farris had masterminded. Arthur testified that the plan to harm the Levines had been his—not Perry’s.

“Perry never mentioned harming the Levines,” Arthur said.