Love, Lies, and Murder (9 page)

“Had you seen it within a month?”

“Mr. Jones, we’re talking about four months ago? Five months ago? Three months ago? The answer is I can’t be specific the last time I saw Janet’s bag of marijuana.”

“Other than the fact that you had seen it sometime, as best you can characterize it, within a month of August fifteenth, and the fact that you looked for it later and you didn’t find it, do you have any other reason to believe that she took it with her?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“That anytime Janet was upset and wanted to get away—anytime Janet left on a vacation or a weekend or a day, she would take her marijuana with her. It was an important part of her relaxation.”

“Did she take it to Canada?”

“I know Janet took it to Canada with her.”

“How do you know that?”

“She smoked it in Canada. Sat in the Hotel Frontenac room being late for dinner because she wanted to finish her joint. I have a specific recollection of that, Mr. Jones. And, actually, it’s a fond one.”

“Do you love Janet?”

“Yes.”

“At the time she disappeared, are you claiming you were still in love with her?”

“Yes.”

“You want to do everything you can to protect her and cherish her and cherish her memory if she’s gone and dead. Is that correct?”

“Mr. Jones, I don’t believe my wife is dead, but if she is dead, I will do everything I can to cherish her memory.”

Moments after Perry March told Jon Jones, the deposition questioner, how much he would do to cherish Janet’s memory, if it turned out that she was dead, by explaining in great detail—in front of her parents—that she smoked marijuana on somewhat of a regular basis, Jones continued his questioning, but turned the subject toward Perry and Janet’s computer.

“What happened to the computer?” Jones asked.

“I do not know,” Perry replied.

“Computer would tell, if somebody had the hard drive, whether—the sequence of when this alleged note that you say she typed and gave to you, when that was prepared. Isn’t that correct?”

“There’s no question about it,” Perry replied. “I can be very truthful with you. I know that—I know this. That the word-processing program that Janet and I used on our home computer has a file stamp of the last time it has been saved on the computer. I know that the note that Janet typed and printed and gave to me on the night that she ran away’s file stamp time was eight-seventeen. Eight-seventeen at night.

“Once the computer hard drive was determined to be missing,” Perry continued, “which I know nothing about, I also made inquiry as to whether or not there would be some separate corroboration of that time period. To know whether or not I had been put in a compromising position by its being missing. And based upon my understanding, no. Other than the file stamp copy time period on the actual word-processing program, there is no other memory log in the operating system or anything else which would corroborate or not corroborate that time period.”

“Who did you make that inquiry to?” Jones asked.

“I stopped in personally to a—I think it was a CompUSA,” Perry responded, “and went up to the desk and asked a person who was—software person, and I was informed that unless you have a specific DOS-based or Windows-based utility program, which records the time periods of all the files, that the regular Windows 95 operating system does not record the time periods for all the respective files that are generated or discarded in a computer.”

“Where was this store?”

“I don’t remember. I think it was the one in Nashville that I went to. The CompUSA out, like, on Hickory Hollow or something.”

“When did you do that?”

“Probably sometime after they effected the search warrant and I found out my hard drive was gone. I was trying to figure out what the heck does that mean. Why would it be gone?”

“When did you find out the hard drive was gone?”

“When Detective David Miller came storming out at me on the day that they effected the search warrant, screaming, ‘Where’s the hard drive, Perry?’ like out of some B-rated detective movie.”

“Did you know he was coming?”

“I had no certain knowledge that Detective Miller was—” Perry tried to answer. However, Jones cut him off.

“I didn’t ask you if you had certain knowledge,” Jones said, staring intently at Perry.

“No, I didn’t know that Detective Miller was coming,” Perry clarified.

“Did you have any information that the police were coming with a search warrant?”

“My attorney had informed me that unless I allowed the police to come out and effect a third voluntary search on my house, they were going to issue a warrant.”

“Did you have any information that one of the things the police wanted to look at or search was your computer?”

“I will answer this question, the specific question, which is that Mr. Barrett informed me the day before that the police wanted to come out again and make a third voluntary search of my house. But this time they had informed my counsel that I was the prime suspect in my wife’s disappearance.”

“So, shortly before the police came out and searched the computer, found out somebody had ripped out the hard drive, you had been told that the police intended to come to your house and search the computer—is that correct?”

“Actually, Mr. Jones, I knew before then because the police had come out once before then, saying they wanted to inspect my computer, and they did.”

“Who do you say tore the hard drive out of your computer ?” Jones asked.

“I don’t say anybody,” Perry replied. “I have no idea, Mr. Jones.”

In response to further questioning, Perry said that he did not have an opinion regarding who may have removed the hard drive. He explained that the computer was used primarily for “home stuff.”

“I did a lot of work on it at home,” Perry said. “I’d do documents for clients . . . office work. I used it quite a bit to access Internet. Databases, things of that nature. Janet used the computer for the construction of the house. All of her house budgets and Excel spreadsheets were on the computer. And then there was—clearly, Janet used it for her personal word processing as well, when she needed to type somebody a letter or send some correspondence. . . . And then I used it probably mostly for education for my kids, for Sammy.”

“Who owned the computer?”

“We did. My wife and I.”

“Where was it located?”

“In my study.”

“After August fifteenth, did you use the computer?”

“You know, Mr. Jones, I don’t have any recollection of specifically using the computer after August fifteenth. I don’t think I did. . . . I may have used it once for some office-related issue . . . and I did turn it on for the police when they came and inspected it.”

Over the next few minutes, Perry and Mr. Jones moved into the area of differentiating between using a computer and programming one. Perry—in his typical manner of playing his game of semantics with his questioner—quibbled at length over the use of the word “programming” with regard to how it pertained to computers and their use.

“Mr. Jones,” Perry said, “I’ve never written a program.”

“Have you ever attempted to do any programming of the computer?”

“I don’t understand your question,” Perry responded. “I just think it’s because you’re probably just not using the correct vocabulary with me. When you say that, are you asking if I wrote software programs? I’m not . . . trying to be truculent here, I’m just trying to understand what you’re saying.”

“Have you ever modified a program?” Jones asked.

“Modify a program,” Perry repeated. “Every time you save a file, you modify a program or data. That is part of a program. So the answer is every time you save, you modify. That’s the truth.”

“Other than just saving, have you ever modified a program ?”

“Sure, I have. I’ve installed pieces of programs where you don’t fully install the program (when initially loading it into the computer). You take pieces of it out. You put pieces of the program in as part of the installation process. I’ve deleted programs. I mean, again, I just think it’s imprecision in language. I’m not being evasive. I just don’t understand what you’re trying to ask me.”

“When did you last use or attempt to use the computer before the police came and found that the hard drive had been ripped out?”

“I don’t remember, but I do know—wait. I’m sorry,” Perry said. “That—I did not answer your question properly. The last time I used the computer—that I turned it on physically before the police executed a search warrant on my house and I learned that the hard drive was gone—was in the presence of Detective David Miller and one other police officer.”

“Was that, to the best of your memory, within a week of . . . your discovery of the hard drive being ripped out?”

“I think so,” Perry responded. “I think that I discovered that the hard drive was missing. I don’t know the exact date they executed the search warrant of my house. It was the fifteenth or the seventeenth of September. I can’t remember.”

Jones offered the date as the fifteenth of September.

“That was like . . . a Wednesday?” Perry asked.

September 15, 1996, was actually a Sunday, but neither Perry nor the questioner, Jones, seemed to know that. In actuality, the search warrant in question had been executed on September 17, 1996, a Tuesday.

“Anyway, if the police executed, assuming that it was Tuesday—I don’t remember the date,” Perry said. “But if they . . . came to my house with their corps of paramilitary boot-camp folks . . . and executed their first search warrant on Tuesday, then I think that Detective Miller—inspected my computer Wednesday of the week prior, because I left for the Rosh Hashanah holiday on Thursday. So I was gone Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I was back in town on Monday.”

Even though Perry’s testimony had been inconsistent and had wavered back and forth with regard to the date of the search warrant having been served, and had conflicted with whether the warrant had been served before or after his trip to Chicago for the Rosh Hashanah holiday, Jones’s incessant questioning was eventually able to show that the warrant had, in fact, been served upon Perry’s return. It had been at that time that Detective Miller had discovered that the hard drive was missing from Perry and Janet’s computer.

After getting the dates of the sequence of events somewhat straightened out, Jones wanted to know whether or not Perry’s house had been burglarized prior to the police arriving and discovering that the computer’s hard drive had been removed and taken from the residence. Perry responded that the house had not been burglarized, at least not to his knowledge, either before he left for Rosh Hashanah or while he was gone. He had not noticed any signs of a break-in, nor had he been aware of anything missing from his house. When he was asked whether he left his house unattended at any time in the days leading up to the point where he discovered that the computer hard drive was missing, Perry responded that he had not. He said that his father, Arthur March, had stayed at the house on Blackberry Road while he was in Chicago with the children.

“Did you leave your house unattended when you went to Chicago for the holy day?” Jones asked.

“No. My father was there,” Perry responded, “but I’m not sure he was there the whole time.”

“Why was your father there?”

“Because he couldn’t afford to come up for Rosh Hashanah holiday.”

“Well, why did he stay at your house?”

“Because it was more comfortable.”

“More comfortable than what?”

“Than the condominium that I had rented.”

“What had you rented a condominium for?”

“I rented the condominium so that when Janet came back, I’d have a place to go.”

Perry explained that his father could have stayed with friends that he knew in Nashville rather than at his house or at the condominium, or he could have stayed at a hotel, like he normally did when he came to visit.

“Did your father stay at your house . . . to watch it?” Jones asked.

“Sure,” Perry replied. “He was there because it was comfortable, free, and he would also be able to take care of it. It’s a large place. Things go wrong. Things happen.”

“Did your father have any motive to tear out the hard drive?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Have you asked your father if he tore out the hard drive?”

“I believe I did.”

“What did he say?”

“No.”

“You believe him?”

“Absolute one hundred percent.”

“When did you ask your father if he tore out the hard drive?”

“That I can’t remember,” Perry said. “I was relatively shocked when it happened. I don’t remember when next I saw my father.”

“Was your father there when the police executed the search warrant?” Jones asked.

“I’m sure, yes,” Perry responded. “I believe he was in town.”

“Was he at your house when they exercised it?”

“No.”

“Did your father chase people away from the house, the press away from the house that week?”

“I don’t know,” Perry replied. “He may have. I think I heard a story. My father is a character. He may have chased away people who tried to trespass on my property. I didn’t—I know that when I left for Rosh Hashanah, I had him put up No Trespassing signs.”

“Okay. You had him put up No Trespassing signs and you asked him and told him to keep people away from the house and out of the house; is that correct?”

“I can’t say that I explicitly told him to keep people out of the house or away from the house. My dad’s a big old cuddly bear; and if he was there to watch the house, I promise you, no one would get in my house.”

“And he was there to watch the house; is that right?”

“No, he was there because it was a comfortable place and it also served another purpose that he could keep an eye on it.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jones responded. “You just said if he was there to watch the house, he would keep people away. Is that what you said?”

“I said if he was there, yeah, to watch the house.”

“Oh, you were just speaking hypothetically, Mr. March?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Because he was not there to watch the house; is that your sworn position?”

“No, Mr. Jones,” Perry responded. “It’s not my sworn position. My sworn position is that my father was at my house because it was comfortable, because he couldn’t afford to travel with us, because he was not invited to Rosh Hashanah at any other place in town, and that he also served another very good purpose of keeping an eye on the house, making sure that things were okay. And at that time it had already become a media circus, so keeping reporters and press people off my property was important. And my father was there and I’m sure he would have chased people away, as you put it.”

“Well, the words ‘to watch the house’ were your words,” Jones said. “Was he there to watch the house?”

“As another—as one of the many reasons my father was there, I’m sure it can be construed that he was there to watch the house.”

“Well, now, Mr. March—” Jones began, but was abruptly cut off when Perry interrupted.

“Mr. Jones,” Perry said, “if you would have walked up to my house during Rosh Hashanah, my father probably would have chased you off.”