Murder Mountain (33 page)

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he cried. “What the hell happened here?”

Eric started towards him, holding out his badge so they wouldn’t shoot him, followed by Coop doing the same.

“Lieutenant, I’m Officer Schroeder of the Richland Metropolitan Police Department in Ohio; this is Detective Cooper from the same. We’ve been waiting a hell of a long time for you people to get here.” Eric put his badge away and stopped at the front of the trooper’s car.

“Well, I think you’re a little out of your territory, boys, and ya sure as hell got some explainin’ to do! I think right now I better take both y’all into custody until we git this sorted out!”

I started to get up. I knew I had to put a stop to this somehow, but Michael, who was coming back from talking to Laurie, beat me to it. “Excuse me, Lieutenant,” he called out, holding out his badge. “Agent Hagerman of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You aren’t taking these boys anywhere! As far as an explanation—I need one from you—explaining why the fuck you people never showed up after I called you three times, why it took you so long to get here now, and most important, how the hell you allowed a county sheriff’s department to operate a full-blown methamphetamine operation, murdering and kidnapping people, a cop included, along the way! Now that’s one hell of an explanation I’d like to hear, and I think maybe I’ll take you into custody until I get one. I suggest you contact your supervisor immediately and get him down here. I want to make sure you all aren’t involved in this, also!”

The lieutenant and other two troopers stood with their mouths hanging open at Michael’s approach to the situation. Eric, grinning from ear to ear, looked over at me and winked, knowing that we had the state police by their microscopic balls.

“Agent Hagerman, this is state police jurisdiction ...”

“No, Lieutenant. It’s not! This is a multi-state drug and homicide operation, which belongs to the FBI. Detective Gallagher here,” he said, pointing to me, “was almost eaten alive in a rat pit this morning because you guys didn’t get off your asses to help us. Several more agents are on their way, and the State Bureau of Criminal Investigation will be here any minute to process the scene. Now, I need you three to go do what you do best, and that’s sit on your asses blocking off the road until the others get here. I also need you to put out an all points bulletin for the arrest of Chatham County Sheriff Garvin B. Conroy and Major Edward Lewis on a federal warrant for the murder and attempted murder of two police officers, for starters, and,” he paused for a moment, smiling sweetly, “that’s an order, Lieutenant!”

The lieutenant was clearly pissed off and looked like his head might explode, but he waved at the other two troopers to follow him. As the lieutenant was getting into his car, he turned to Michael, and with a calmer look on his face said, “Ya know Agent Hagerman? I heard all the rumors. I just didn’t think it was possible.” Then he got inside his car and drove away.

It was amazing to me. The sheriff had operated his
business
for years, throwing human life away like it was garbage and no one knew or did anything about it. I looked around me and wondered how I’d got there, not in the clearing, but to this place in my life where I took chances and cast everything important aside. I guessed I should have been content the case was solved and we had our killers, or would soon, but I wasn’t. If I had it to do all over again, it would never have happened this way. The sheriff would probably have been doing business for years to come.

I wondered if I would ever be normal again, physically and emotionally. The number of broken bones would be in the teens, I surmised, and the emotional trauma would be far deeper than that. Eric checked on me again, expressing his disdain at the response time of the second ambulance. “It’s a goddamn good thing you’re not dying,” he spat. “Are those assholes driving a horse and buggy here, or what?” He shook his head, and then changed the subject. “I wanted to tell you, I just talked to Sheriff Stephens. He’s going to meet us at the hospital in Spencer; he was worried. I also called your dad and your mom. The girls are fine, but they needed to know about this before it hits the news.”

“I know. Thanks,” I whispered.

I would’ve given anything to see my girls just then, but the most important thing was that I
would
see them again, something I couldn’t have said less than an hour before.

When the ambulance arrived twenty minutes later, Eric gave them a verbal lashing that could go in the record books, especially when they started to tend to Tim Carr before me; I thought Eric was going to punch one EMT in the face. Coop intervened and directed them to me, telling them Tim could wait on another ambulance, if they chose to call for one, but he would be in custody, and a trooper would have to ride along.

As they lifted me onto the gurney, my body screamed in pain, and I immediately begged for pain medication.

“Ma’am, what’s all over ya?” an EMT asked while rolling me to the ambulance.

“Don’t fucking worry about it! Just get her to the goddamn hospital!” Eric roared.

Intelligently, the EMT declined a response and loaded me into the back of the ambulance, checking my vitals and hooking me to an IV with pain medication. The relief was instantaneous; it felt like heaven.

I saw Michael standing at the back of the ambulance and he gave me a slight wave goodbye. I was so out of it by then he could’ve been Bugs Bunny waving, so all I could do was stare at him. Eric was going to ride to the hospital with me, but said he needed to do something quickly before we left. He got out of the ambulance and pulled Michael off to the side.

“I wanted to say thank you. This isn’t easy for me, but I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m glad you were here to watch out for her. Even though it should’ve been me that did it, which is no one’s fault but mine. And I’m sorry.” Eric reached his hand out to shake Michael’s.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Eric, but thank you. You take care of yourself, and take care of CeeCee.”

They shook hands.

The ambulance drove away the same time the helicopter with the other agents landed and the State Bureau of Criminal Investigation arrived. Coop stayed to assist Michael with anything he needed, including managing the media, who had gotten wind of the situation already. News helicopters began flying over the clearing within minutes of my departure.

Eric held my hand the entire ride to the hospital, or so he said. I was asleep before we were halfway down the mountain.

I was in the hospital for three weeks. I had fifteen broken bones: eleven in my face, three ribs, and a fractured wrist. I also had moderate burns on my scalp and down my back from the grease. I was transferred from the hospital in Spencer back to Mansfield on the third day, which was something I demanded. I couldn’t get out of West Virginia fast enough and I needed to see my children. I didn’t mind being in the hospital that long. For the most part, I was sedated and on heavy pain medication, and besides, I needed the rest.

Sheriff Conroy and Eddie Lewis were apprehended at the Louisville, Kentucky airport, attempting to board a plane to Brazil and carrying over half of a million dollars cash. They, along with Tim Carr, were charged with five federal counts of murder, attempted murder, drug trafficking, and conspiracy to commit murder. All three faced the death penalty.

Lizzie Johnston’s remains were exhumed from her father’s backyard garden; she had been shot in the face. According to Laurie Kaylor, VanScoy and Tim Carr had grabbed Lizzie while she walked to the gas station, took her to the clearing where Boz was found, and raped her repeatedly until they shot her. I attended Lizzie’s funeral. Her father, aged another twenty years since I’d last seen him, was barely functioning and did his best to utter a quiet “Thank you.” I gave him six months, maximum, before he committed suicide. I’ve seen the signs before, and I knew Larry couldn’t cope.

Any remains of Lisa Grendle and Gina Reynolds were never found. Laurie said that Lisa was put through a wood chipper and that Gina was buried somewhere in the mountains. Laurie was given federal protection and placed in the witness protection program. The investigation further revealed numerous members of the Chatham County Sheriff’s Department, Chatham County business owners, and local politicians involved in the operation. The number of indictments soared.

A search warrant served at the warehouse Laurie gave up resulted in the uncovering of the largest operating methamphetamine lab any federal agency had ever seen. The DEA estimated the lab was supplying the entire north and southeast parts of the country, and it cost the federal government millions of dollars to clean it up.

And there was the media. The story was national, and I was touted as a hero, but the finger pointing started right at the beginning. The media wanted to know how an operation like this had gone on for so long without the knowledge of the DEA or the FBI, which ultimately resulted in each agency blaming the other for a lack of communications.

One night at home, while watching more coverage of the case on the news, I thought how this all started with one missing woman, and what a hellish summer it had been. Eric and I had to change our phone number because of calls from the press, and put our house up for sale, for completely different reasons.

Once I was released from the hospital, I was having serious psychological issues from my experience at the clearing. I couldn’t live in the woods anymore. Too many animals resembled rats—raccoons, groundhogs, possums, deer, snakes, and birds all turned into rats when I looked at them. God forbid that I’d see a real mouse. A cartoon mouse on the television would send me babbling and drooling in the corner, and at night, the sounds of the rats shrieking and squealing rang in my ears whenever I tried to sleep. If I did sleep, I would have night terrors and wake up soaked with sweat. I came to a point after being home for a month at which I gave serious thought to checking myself into the psychiatric ward.

A huge amount of prodding from Eric, however, and one order from Sheriff Stephens, sent me to therapy three times a week. That, along with a high dose of Prozac, seemed to help.

Eric took the girls and me on a long vacation to Uncle Matt’s condominium in North Carolina, a trip which we usually made by car. The only realistic way to drive there was by driving through West Virginia, though, so we flew. I spent hours on the beach getting my head together and giving serious consideration to filing for disability and quitting my job. I didn’t know how I would do it anymore. The problem was that I didn’t think it was worth it.

I took myself back to when I first became a police officer and the reasons why, and told myself that I needed to be in that place again. I didn’t save anyone’s life in West Virginia, but I may have prevented others from dying down the road. That was good, wasn’t it? Towards the end of our vacation, I was starting to feel a little better about going back to work, even though Sheriff Stephens told me to take my time and come back when I was ready.

Kincaid recovered from her gunshot wound and called me frequently, making sure I was okay. The shooting of Captain John VanScoy was never mentioned again.

Two weeks before I went back to work, I met Michael at a local diner for coffee, having only seen him once since West Virginia, when he’d visited me briefly in the hospital. Our visit was short, and Michael informed me that he’d transferred back to the behavioral unit in Virginia. Now that he was getting a divorce, he felt there was no reason to stay in Cleveland. I felt the tears immediately well up at the thought of never seeing him again. I could tell by the pained look on his face that it literally killed him to make that decision. The truth was, I couldn’t have him and Eric both, and I had made my choice. I just never realized how hard that choice would be. I couldn’t help but pull him into a tight embrace before leaving, I felt him let out a deep breath as I did it.

“Oh God, CeeCee, I knew this would be hard, but I feel like dying right now. I swore back then that as long as you were alive and okay, that would be good enough.” He pulled back from my embrace and looked at me, “I will think about you everyday for the rest of my life, and remember,” he smiled then, “if you ever find yourself single...”

“Number one on the list, I know. Take care, Michael, till we meet again...” I gave him a gentle kiss, touched his cheek, and walked away. I didn’t know if I would ever see him again, and I thought it would probably be best if I didn’t, but it hurt just the same.

Three months after the incident at the clearing, I felt able to go back to work. On my first day, I was met with balloons, cards, and a cake from everyone welcoming me back, and I was glad to be back. These people were my extended family and I would’ve missed them.

The first time I was alone in my office, I sat in my chair and looked out my window over the city. What I used to think of as a dirty, crime-ridden city looked totally different to me. It was beautiful, it was my home, and it made me smile. Hearing a light knock at my door, I turned and saw Captain Kincaid.

“Naomi! I was just getting ready to go to lunch and wondered if you’d like to join me?”

“I’d love to, CeeCee but, first, I want you to look at this new case. It seems right up your alley...”

CeeCee Gallagher series:
The Devil’s Closet
Mary Jane’s Grave
Rapture of Omega
The Body Mafia

Murder Behind the Badge: True Stories of Cops Who Kill

Stumbling Along the Beat: A Policewoman’s Uncensored Story from the World of Law Enforcement

Copyright ©2010 by Stacy Dittrich
www.StacyDittrich.com

December 2010
Blue Jay Media Group

All rights reserved. No portion of this book, whether in print or electronic format, may be duplicated or transmitted without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

ISBN: 978-1-936724-01-7