The Dreams of Ada (45 page)

A. Uh-huh.

Q.*—took Denice Haraway in the house, then you and Tommy left and went to get some gas?

A. Right.

Q.* All right. You came back, brought the gas in the house, Odell—Denice Haraway was on the floor.

A. Yes, in the hole. She was in the hole on the floor. She was on the floor right there beside the hole.

Q.* All right. Then he—

A. Then he’d rolled her—he’d stabbed her and then rolled her off.

Q.* Did he stab her in your presence?

A. While I was there.

Q.* Okay.

A. Me and Tommy was standing on this side of the hole.

Q.* Okay. And then he stabbed her how many times?

A. Four or five times, maybe.

Q.* Okay. And—

A. You know, after he’d stabbed a couple of times, I didn’t look, you know.

Q.* Okay. So at that point, that was when she died?

A. That’s when she died. And he put her off in the hole.

Q.* How big a hole in the floor was it? Two foot wide or three foot, maybe, or—

A. Around four.

Q.* Four foot wide?

A. Around four.

Q.* How long was it?

A. It wasn’t too long.

Q.* So you—

A. I wouldn’t—I ain’t measured—I can’t guess no measurements.

Q.* Did she have her clothes on at that time or—

A. No, she didn’t.

Q.* Where were her clothes?

A. They were back at the truck.

Q.* Okay. What did you all do with the clothes?

A. Took them up there. Me and Tommy went and got them and brought them back to the house, put them in the hole with her and burned them.

Q. All right. Did you put her shoes in the hole with her?

A. Yes, all of her belongings, everything.

Q. All right.

Q. You say she was wearing—

A. Even her—

Q. —tennis shoes?

A. Soft, they were soft shoes, soft-soled shoes.

Q.* All right. And after he put her in the hole, who spread the gasoline, then?

A. Odell. He poured all the gas on her and everything. And we threw the match on her and walked out.

Q. Karl, let me ask you this: at any point in time, did you stab her?

A. No, I did not, nor did Tommy. Odell done all the stabbing right there on the left side of the hole.

Q.* Did you all try to stop him from stabbing her?

A. No.

Q.* Did you say anything to him or—

A. No, I just turned—me and Tommy turned away, didn’t watch.

Q. What was the purpose of taking her with you from the store?

A. To keep from her coming to ya’ll and letting ya’ll know.

Q.* I mean, was that the plan, though, whenever you went there?

A. Yes.

Q.* Okay.

A. We had it all planned out, you know, to—

Q.* What were you planning on doing with her after you got her?

A. Raping her.

Q. Raping her and then killing her and getting rid of her?

A. Yes.

Q. Have you seen Odell since that night?

A. That night he let me and Tommy out at his house. I haven’t seen him.

Q. You never did get back with him?

A. No, never did see him again, associate with him, haven’t seen him. Till this day, I wouldn’t know where he was at.

Q.* What does Odell Titsworth look like?

A. Kind of tall, slim.

Q. Tall compared to you? That would be, what, five-eight, five-nine, five-ten?

A. Around five-ten, five-eleven.

Q. About how much would he weigh?

A. One forty, one fifty, somewhere—

Q. What color is his hair?

A. Black.

Q. How does he wear it?

A. Well, it was more or less messed up when he was with us. But it—

Q. Is it collar-length, shoulder-length, is it long?

A. It was a little below his ears.

Q. Okay.

A. About an inch below his ears.

Q. Did he have a moustache, beard, or anything?

A. Not that I know of.

Q. All right. Does he have any scars, marks, or tattoos that you’re aware of?

A. I didn’t see any of that.

Q. And how long did you say you’ve known Odell?

A. That day. That day Tommy and me was at that party. He’d met—I’d met him just then.

Q. You hadn’t ever seen him before?

A. Never did know him.

Q.* I think earlier, Karl, you said that you’d known him a year, a year and a half, or something like that.

A. Huh-uh. I’d known him that day.

Q.* How long have you known Tommy?

A. Four or five years, maybe—maybe six. And Tommy had brought Odell around the house and I’d met him.

Q. But prior to that day?

A. Yes.

Q. Okay, now, you’re kind of confusing me a little bit. First you say that you had only met him that day, and then you said prior to the date of the incident Tommy had brought him around the house.

A. Yes, Tommy did have him around.

Q. Okay.

A. I’d met him for—I don’t know how long it was. It wasn’t—it was less than a year.

Q. Okay. But it just was—

A. Way before a year was up.

Q. Was it just a casual or passing acquaintance? Or what you’re trying to tell me—

A. It was just meeting him and then him going.

Q. Okay. So it wasn’t a close—

A. No relation—no.

Q. —relationship, it was just kind of in passing. He would be with somebody you would know, like Tommy.

A. Yeah.

Q. And you’d see him to recognize him.

A. See him with somebody else—

Q. Okay.

A. —that he knew, yeah.

Q. And then basically what you’re telling me, Karl, is that the first time that you really got to know Odell Titsworth was the night of the incident of April the 28th, 1983? [
sic
].

A. Yes.

Q. Or ’84, excuse me.

A. That’s the most time that I’ve known him.

Q. Okay.

A. Right then.

Q.* So you’re not really good friends with Odell Titsworth?

A. No.

Q.* You’re better friends of—

A. More or less.

Q.*—Tommy Ward’s?

A. Me and Tommy was friends. That was it.

Q.* Do you all have any other friends other than each other or—

A. Well, our kin.

Q. What kind of work—

A. Tommy’s sister and them, I know them.

Q. What kind of work have you been doing?

A. I’d been doing fence work in Hominy.

Q. What, building fence?

A. Yes.

Q. Barbed-wire type fence?

A. Yes.

Q. What, for a rancher or a farmer or something?

A. Company.

Q. For a company?

A. Yes.

Q. What kind of education do you have? How far in high school—

A. I went to the twelfth grade.

Q. Did you graduate?

A. My mom—she died in—right before graduation, and then I’d quit.

Q.* So you quit. Where did you go to school at?

A. In Latta. It was the Latta High School. The last school I went to.

Q. Do you read and write the English language pretty well?

A. Yeah, just had trouble with history and that was about all.

Q. It’s my understanding you were in the National Guard, is that correct?

A. Yes, I was in the National Guard.

Q. How long were you in the National Guard?

A. I done three months.

Q. You did?

A. And then they discharged me because of my back.

Q. What’s the matter with your back?

A. They said it was messed up too bad to be doing the training. So they gave me a trainee discharge.

Q. What unit were you in?

A. It was in—the company was Alpha.

Q. Alpha Company? What town? Was it here in Ada, or where?

A. In—my training took place in Fort Benning, Georgia.

Q.* Okay. You went to Fort Benning, Georgia, for your—

A. Uh-huh.

Q.*—boot camp or—

A. Basic and AIT.

Q.*—basic?

A. Yeah.

Q.* And that was for—you were there for three weeks and—

A. Three months.

Q.* Three months.

A. And then right at the end, right before graduation, they discharged me.

Q. Okay. So you were in the infantry—

A. Yes.

Q. —unit in the National Guard?

A. Yes.

Q. And was it at Allen, is that where you—

A. Yes.

Q. —attended your drills?

A. That’s—yes. Well, I never did attend any drills—

Q. You didn’t?

A. —because I was discharged before—

Q. Okay. So you—

A. —I got back.

Q. —went through your active-duty status prior to going to trying to—

A. I went to the last day, the last day of training.

AGENT ROGERS:
Dennis, can you think of anything else right now?

Q.* Yes. Is there any statement that you’d like to make regarding this incident that happened?

A. Well, I’ll probably never do it again.

Q.* Okay.

A. Or at least I’ll never get into any trouble like this again, you know, because I’ve learned my lesson.

Q.* Okay.

Q. Karl, during the period of time that we’ve interviewed you today, once again I’d like to ask you, have we threatened you or—

A. No.

Q. —promised you anything?

A. (
Witness indicating negatively
.)

Q. You’re making this of your own free will, this statement?

A. It was on my own free will to get this recorded.

Q. Have you been allowed to smoke, drink, drink Cokes—

A. Yes.

Q. —anything that you wanted?

A. Yes, I was served right during the meeting.

AGENT ROGERS:
Dennis, can you think of anything else? Okay. This statement is going to be ending at 3:50
P.M
., same date, same people present.

The lights came up in the courtroom. The video screens were moved into a corner. The defense attorneys questioned Gary Rogers.

Wyatt established that no body had been found where the tapes indicated it would be, or anywhere else; that Odell Titsworth had not been involved; that the house had been burned down long before, and did not even exist as a house the night of the disappearance; that the eyewitness accounts of the Timmons brothers, about what they had observed at McAnally’s, differed from the accounts on both tapes. He noted that Fontenot said on the tape it was “almost dark” during the kidnapping, whereas at 8:30
P.M
., when the disappearance actually occurred, it had long since been dark.

“You have no proof, aside from these statements, that she was kidnapped, raped, and murdered. All you can prove, aside from these statements, is that she is gone.”

“That is correct,” Rogers said.

Butner asked if the OSBI or the Ada police or anyone else had been able to find any physical evidence to back up the stories on these tapes.

“Not that I know of,” Rogers said.

“Do you ever discover physical evidence of a dream?” Butner asked.

“I don’t follow,” Rogers said.

Butner repeated the question.

“It depends on what kind of dream,” Rogers said.

The entire courtroom erupted in laughter. When it subsided, Rogers said, “I guess not.”

Wyatt asked if the agent was telling the jury that Randy Rogers, Bob Sparcino, and Jason Lurch had no connection to this case.

“Not that we know of,” the agent said.

The next, and final, witness for the state—the sixty-seventh—was a psychologist from East Central University, Frederick Patrizi. The professor said he had long been interested in the dream process, had taught courses about dreams. He had been shown the two tapes last spring, he said, and the Ward tape again in August.

“Do you have an opinion whether the Ward video was a dream?” the D.A. asked.

“It’s my opinion it was not a dream,” the professor said.

He said the tapes were too logical; that a dream typically jumps around, has gaps; that typically, in a dream, people change. The tapes had no dreamlike quality, he said, “with the possible exception that they were rather bizarre.”

On cross-examination, Wyatt established that the professor had never interviewed the suspects, and that he had seen the tapes in the presence of Mike Baskin, Gary Rogers, and Dennis Smith.

The professor was excused. The large, round clock above the spectator section read 6:25. Bill Peterson stood beside the prosecution table. His voice boomed loud in the quiet courtroom.

“The State of Oklahoma rests, your honor,” he said.

Wyatt and Butner approached the bench. They moved that the state had not proved the corpus delicti on any of these charges; and that therefore the case should be dismissed.

“Overruled,” Judge Powers said.

16

DEFENSE

G
eorge Butner was feeling good after the playing of the tapes. He did not know why. Perhaps because the worst was over; now the defense would get its turn.

Some of Tommy Ward’s family went to Wyatt’s office, for the second run-through of their testimony, which Tricia had requested. Tricia still could not bring herself to say swearwords, to say more than “s.o.b.” The attorneys felt she would be effective on the stand.

Don Wyatt went home, to ponder the opening remarks he would make the next morning. Bill Cathey grilled Joice Cavins on her testimony. She was a nervous person, frenetic, given to outbursts; she was not the best kind of witness. But she was Tommy’s alibi; they probably would have to put her on the stand. During the preparation, Joice stumbled over some of her answers, got confused. She broke down, crying.

“I don’t want to kill Tommy!” she sobbed.

Chris Ross couldn’t sleep that night. This was the assistant D.A.’s first murder trial, and he was all keyed up. The state had rested. He should have been able to relax, but he needed to work on his closing argument. Because the defense had two attorneys, the state would get two closing arguments as well. What Ross said would be the last words heard by the jurors before they began to deliberate.

For months he had been reviewing the tapes in his mind, over and over. How to make sense of them, with Titsworth not being there. Had there been a different third person? That did not fit in with the eyewitness evidence.

When he went to bed, he lay awake, the facts of the case dancing in his brain; he tried to figure out what to emphasize in his statement. He thought again, as he had many times, of Tommy’s saying on the tape that Odell took Denice’s bra off while Tommy was biting her breast. That had never made sense to him. It was close quarters; Tommy, biting her, must have pulled the bra off himself. That had led Ross to decide, some time earlier, that everything Tommy had done he had merely attributed to Odell. But that was elementary, he felt; he needed something more.

Hour after hour he lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come. At 3
A.M
., still restless, he got up, filled the bathtub with hot water, and eased himself into it, hoping the warmth would be relaxing. Over and over the tapes ran in his brain, like some true-life horror film. Then, suddenly, in the tub, in a kind of synaptic leap, an illumination, it clicked into place. Suddenly, to Ross, the tapes made sense, psychologically—if his memory was correct. He needed to check his memory against the transcript.

He went back to bed. He could hardly wait till morning. Excited, he got to the courthouse early. He told Bill Peterson that as the defense began its case, he would like to be excused from the courtroom for a while. He spent the next few hours at his desk, going through the transcript of Tommy Ward’s statement, line by line. When he was finished, he decided he was right.

He was uncertain, at first, whether to use his theory in his closing argument; it might be too complex for the jurors to follow. But he decided, fairly soon, that he would.

As Ross pored through the transcript, Gordon Calhoun and Jannette Roberts met in Wyatt’s office, a meeting arranged by the attorney. Jannette told Gordon he was correct in that she had taken pictures at Blue River on Memorial Day. But those were different pictures, she said—and he was wearing the same thing.

Gordon said he would have to see the pictures to be sure. Jannette did not have her photo album with her. She said she would drive up to Oklahoma City to get it. They agreed to meet again at eight o’clock the next morning, to look at the Blue River pictures together.

DAY NINE

George Butner was not feeling well. He’d been bothered much of the night by an upset stomach; he thought it might have been caused by some pork he had eaten the day before. His stomach was still queasy when he arrived in court. He informed the judge of this in chambers; if he had to bolt suddenly from the courtroom, he wanted the judge to know, it would not be a sign of disrespect.

The judge asked if he wanted the session postponed. Butner said no, he would continue for as long as he could.

The defense of Tommy Ward and Karl Fontenot began with an opening statement by Don Wyatt. The attorney summarized briefly what the defense would try to show. Referring to his private investigator, he said, “He’s going to bring you some revelations about who, in his opinion, is involved in this.”

It was not quite the dramatic claim Wyatt had fantasized about months before, but it would have to do.

The first witness called by the defense was Dr. Clyde Butler, a biology professor at East Central. He said that when the detectives came to borrow the skull and bones, they told him the bones would be used to compare with ones found at search sites, to determine if the bones found were human. They did not tell him the bones would be brought to the jail, he said.

The professor was a witness because Wyatt wanted to suggest shoddy police tactics; he was the first witness because Wyatt wanted the jury to see that professors from the college were willing to testify for the defense as well as for the prosecution.

There was no cross-examination.

The next two witnesses, father and son, were Joel Ward’s closest friends in Tulsa. One was an engineer. Both testified that Joel had never owned or been in possession of a gray-primered pickup; if he had, they would have known about it, they said.

Joel Ward was next. He testified about all the vehicles he had ever owned or possessed; none had been a gray-primered pickup, he said. He said the incident testified to by the insurance man had never happened. He did not know why the man had made it up, he said.

There was other testimony Wyatt would have liked to elicit from Joel. He would have liked the jury to hear about a dream Tommy had had at Joel’s house, after seeing a news report about a woman who had been killed and mutilated in a car accident. In his dream, Tommy had caused the accident. Wyatt felt that the dream was psychologically significant; it showed a tendency in Tommy’s inner makeup to have such dreams, in which he was the guilty one when in fact he was not. The attorneys had debated at length about whether to have Joel tell of it. They were afraid the district attorney would claim that such testimony related to Tommy’s character, and that the judge might agree. Testimony involving character—involving things not directly related to the case at hand—was prohibited, unless the defense opened up that area. But if they did, Peterson could then bring in witnesses to tell about Tommy’s getting drunk at times, about his smoking dope—neither of which would help with the jury. The D.A. could also bring in witnesses, prohibited till now, who claimed Tommy had threatened them at other times.

The attorneys had decided they would do without the dream. Joel Ward was excused.

Marie Titsworth was called. She told how the police had confiscated her daughter’s pickup from in front of Don Wyatt’s house, while she was cleaning there, and had returned it about a week later, covered with fingerprint dust.

Then her son, Odell, took the stand. Titsworth, twenty-six, was something of the town bogeyman, because of his four felony convictions and the publicity that surrounded them. He was known to Wyatt, and to Dennis Smith, as a soft-spoken, gentle person—who became violent when he got drunk. He had moved to Oregon in January, after testifying at the preliminary hearing; he’d been flown in for the trial by the state, in case Bill Peterson wanted to call him. But Peterson felt he had already proved through Titsworth’s girlfriend, her mother, and the surgeon that Odell had not been involved. He saw no point in putting on the stand a fellow who hated cops, and whose mother worked for the defense attorney.

Wyatt called him instead. Titsworth, his black hair rolling in waves to his shoulders, told of his arrest the previous October, of his questioning by Detectives Smith and Baskin in a basement room of the police station. “I told them I didn’t know nothing about it,” he said. “I didn’t know what they were talking about.”

Titsworth said he was interrogated four different times while being held, that Baskin repeatedly called him a “sorry son-of-a-bitch.” He said the questioning was much more intense than during any of his prior arrests. “They were hollering,” he said, “trying to get me to say I done it. That I killed her and raped her, and Tommy and Karl was with me.” He said that after one bout of severe questioning, back in his cell, he wondered if perhaps he had gone crazy and done something like that, and didn’t remember it—till he remembered his arm was broken at the time.

Titsworth said that several days after the last questioning, Captain Smith told him. “It was just a dream Tommy Ward had. It was just a dream.”

He said he was kept in solitary confinement, that he was taken to the cells of Ward and Fontenot and told by Baskin to act real tough, as if he was threatening them. “They were scared,” Titsworth said.

He said later he was placed in cells next to Ward’s and Fontenot’s, to see what he could find out. They both told him they hadn’t done it, Titsworth said. He said Ward apologized to him, and told him it had only been a dream.

“Even in your investigation of this matter, Mr. Titsworth, you learned it was a dream?” George Butner asked.

“Yes.”

Titsworth said he had moved to Oregon because of his being linked to this case. “I was threatened by a lot of people around here. And it would be impossible to get a job in Oklahoma.”

Court was recessed for lunch. The members of Tommy Ward’s family dined on stuffed potatoes at the Feed Store. When they returned, the youngest sister, Kay Garrett, took the stand. Eighteen years old, a new mother, in the pretty bloom of youth, wearing a ruffled purple blouse, Kay testified that she had cut Tommy’s hair very short between 3 and 4
P.M
. on April 20, eight days before the disappearance. She said she knew it was that Friday because the following week she and her mother had gone to Lawton to visit her sister Melva, and Tommy had been pestering her to cut it before that trip. She produced a small appointment calendar from her purse, on which the trip to Lawton on the twenty-eighth was marked.

On cross-examination, Chris Ross, back in the courtroom, noted that the haircut was not marked on the calendar. Pointing out that she’d said she’d given Tommy a bad, gapped-up haircut, Ross asked why Tommy would let her cut his hair if she gapped it up.

Kay blushed, smiled shyly. “I guess he trusted me,” she said. The warm laughter that erupted in the courtroom, even among some of the jurors, was the first hint since the trial began of any sympathy for the defense.

Bud Wolf was called next: Tricia’s husband, Tommy’s brother-in-law, his hunting partner near the abandoned house in the days, years earlier, when the house was still there. Led by Wyatt, Bud, wearing a three-piece suit, gave a soft-spoken recitation of his solid-citizen work record; of his activities at the Unity Missionary Baptist Church, where he served at times as treasurer and taught a boys’ Bible class. Bud swore, under oath, that on April 21, 1984—the day after Kay had said she cut Tommy’s hair—he saw Tommy with very short hair. He told of the incident of Tommy coming to the house to borrow money, taking off his baseball cap, saying “Ta-da!” and turning around to show off the scalping.

On cross-examination, Chris Ross, who knew Bud from foster-parent class, asked why he was certain this had happened on April 21.

“Because it was the day before communion at our church.”

“Isn’t communion every Sunday?” Ross asked.

“No,” Bud said, “at our church we have communion only twice a year. On Easter Sunday, and again in October.”

Ross smiled, shook his head slightly, resumed his seat; his bemused expression seemed to say: you learn something every day.

There was a brief recess. People congregated in the corridors. Don Wyatt told Bud, Kay, and Joel that they had done great on the witness stand. They were vastly relieved.

At the other end of the hallway, Theresa Shumard, a local news stringer who was covering the trial for the
Daily Oklahoman
, chatted with Gary Rogers and Dorothy Hogue. Mrs. Shumard, pregnant, almost as large as Tricia, said angrily, “As soon as they put the family on the stand, that proves he’s guilty! If they need the family to speak up for him, that proves it!”

George Butner’s stomach was still bothering him. The defense attorneys huddled in a rear office. They went over the witnesses they still planned to call. It was now mid-afternoon on Thursday. At the rate they were going, they would finish on Friday. The judge would probably sequester the jury once testimony was completed and they were ready to deliberate. That meant the jurors would be locked up in a motel, away from their families, for the weekend. They would be like caged animals, eager to get out; they would be angry, perhaps at the defense. An early recess today would allow them to continue the defense into Monday.

George Butner felt his stomach getting worse.