Текст книги "Death Trap"

Автор книги: M. William Phelps

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

45

As he began to consider the idea of killing Alan, playing the deadly scene over in his head like a movie, Jeff McCord realized several problems with his wife’s plan—which was now a carefully thought-out sketch she had explained to Jeff in full on Valentine’s Day, fewer than twenty-four hours before the deposition.

“Alan is supposed to be at the house at six or six-thirty,” Jeff said to Jessica after she explained what to do.

“Right,” Jessica said. She didn’t see the problem.

“Okay, what do we do then?”

If they killed Alan and he failed to return home to Terra and his parents—or wherever he was going after picking up the kids—what would happen? The last place Alan was supposed to be was at Jeff and Jessica’s picking up the kids. They would be instant suspects, Jeff pointed out.

“We burn the body and torch his car,” Jessica suggested, as if she were an old pro at committing homicides.

“All of which, obviously from my background,” Jeff recalled later, “I know is a pretty good way to do away with evidence, and really do away with a lot of trace evidence, and a good way to mess up some crime-scene stuff.”

An officer of the law explaining how to cover up a murder by referring to it as “a good way to mess up some crime-scene stuff.”

Apparently, the murder plan now made sense to Jeff. Jessica had thought this thing through quite methodically.

Jeff wanted to make sure that their plan was infallible. They shouldn’t take chances. They were too close to the victim. As a cop, Jeff said, he knew the center of the bull’s -eye when investigating a murder was the place all cops started: family, friends, acquaintances (especially those having problems with the deceased).

It wasn’t rocket science.

Jeff then asked Jessica several questions, playing devil’s advocate, testing her.

“Okay, if you’re going . . . if you’re going to torch the car and burn the [body], how are you going to do it?”

Jessica looked at him. “It’s not definite,” she said. Jessica was still tossing other ideas around. The bottom line, she made clear, was that they had to get rid of the body. The way in which they did that was beside the point. The fact of the matter was: no body, no case.

“Leaving [the body] in the trunk and ditching the car,” Jeff pointed out, “is not a good idea, Jess.”

She thought about that.

“Near this time,” Jeff explained later, they spent a considerable amount of time “fine-tuning” and “hacking out” a final plan to kill Alan.

“Alan shows up. . . . We get him in the house. Shoot him. Do whatever. Load the body up. Cart things off. And dispose of it wherever it is going to be disposed of.”

“Torch the car,” Jeff said to Jessica in response to that comment, reminding her how important it was to burn the evidence. “That’s got to be part of it.”

Jessica was not convinced burning the car was going to be necessary.

“I brought fire up, you know, as a viable option,” Jeff said later. “I don’t know if she finally decided if that was the best way to do it or not.”

As for who would do the actual shooting, Jeff was under the impression all along that Jessica wanted him to be the triggerman. He was a cop. He had taken target practice. It seemed practical.

“I figured she would do . . . some of it, given that over time she’d fiddled around with some of my weapons.”

They slept well that night. The next morning, as Jessica got ready to leave for the deposition, they picked up the conversation. Jessica came up with a new idea, Jeff said. She told him that he should probably ditch his SUV somewhere. “So when Alan shows up, he won’t know you’re here.”

Made sense, Jeff surmised. Then he reminded Jessica that the space in the driveway would be helpful. “The way my driveway was set up,” he said later, “if both vehicles are there, you don’t have enough room to move another vehicle up close to the house to do whatever it is you’re going to do with it.”

After killing Alan, Jeff noted, they needed to get him out of the house as soon as possible. Pull his car up to the back porch so they could put him in the trunk.

“Yes,” Jessica agreed.

With the commitment to get rid of Jeff’s SUV out of the way, they focused on where to torch Alan’s car with his body and the evidence.

“Mississippi?” Jeff suggested.

“No. Gulf Coast of Florida!”

What the heck, Jeff said he thought at that moment, the woman likes the Gulf Coast.

“I think Georgia was finally settled on,” Jeff recalled, “because that was the known direction [Alan] was supposed to have been traveling, which, our thinking at the time, would have played into whatever story could have or might have been concocted.”

All of this—the car burned up and Alan shot—fit with what Jessica and Jeff believed authorities would think was a carjacking-gone-wrong scenario. That, or an old-fashioned robbery. Jeff was under the impression, given what Jessica had told him, that Alan had made some “other people” really mad and had been “screwing around,” she said, “with other people’s [wives] .” So law enforcement might think one of those jealous husbands had capped Alan and torched his car.

What about an alibi? Jeff brought up next. What were they going to come up with to protect themselves when cops came knocking? The number one problem was time, Jeff explained.

“How do we account for our time, Jess?”

They put their heads together.

“The movies,” she said excitedly.

“Yeah!”

“Southside.” There was a movie theater there. They could go and sit in on a movie. Jessica had always wanted to go to a strip club and watch Jeff’s reaction as he checked out the girls, she said. They could do that afterward.

“The PlayLate Club,” Jessica said. It was on Second Avenue in downtown Birmingham. Not far from the movie house.

From there they could go somewhere romantic. Take a walk. Waste some time. Then head over to the Home Depot when it opened and pick up some supplies to clean up the mess, which would fall in line with the remodeling project they had going on in the house, anyway.

“That’s it.”

So, as Jessica left for the deposition, a murder plan was in play. When Alan showed up to pick up the kids, he would walk up to the front door and see a sign directing him to the back. If Terra was with him, they’d deal with it. Jessica would invite him into the house under a ruse. The kids were not going to be home. They’d be up the street at Jessica’s mother’s. Jessica said she had a good idea regarding how to convince Alan to walk into a house he had never been allowed in before then.

Once inside, Jeff would surprise him.

Jessica could sit and watch her problem disappear with a few bright flashes.

46

Terra had a major paper due on Friday, February 15, 2002. It was part of the master’s program she had been working on at Goucher. So she got up early.

While Alan was getting ready, Terra faxed the paper over to Dr. Victoria Young’s office.

“Terra had hope in her voice,” Dr. Young said later. Young had spoken to Terra the previous afternoon about the paper. Terra mentioned the deposition. She said she was traveling to Alabama with Alan. She sounded upbeat. Positive. She felt good about how the case had progressed. It was, Young said, as if Alan and Terra had finally gotten the court to listen to them. The system was finally functioning the way it should have been from day one. Terra was comfortable with saying she felt the outcome would be in their favor.

Terra’s father, Tom Klugh, left his house early in the morning to go out and get his seasonal potato and onion seedlings at the local feed store in Georgia, near his home. He wanted to set them in the ground that day. He planned on buying a cell phone later on that afternoon, his first. He even promised to call Terra after the purchase.

Alan and Terra’s flight went as scheduled. They landed in Birmingham on time. Then they made it to the deposition downtown without a hitch. As Jessica had thought, they didn’t arrive the night before.

It was going to take all day, Frank Head told Alan. Prepare for a full day’s worth of, well, answering uncomfortable questions about the past seven years.

In Hoover, the mother of one of the girls’ friends stopped by to pick up Sam and McKenna and cart them off to school. The girls were scheduled to go from school (late that afternoon) to Jessica’s mother’s house. Brian and Sara would head to day care until Jessica’s mother got out of work and could pick them up. With the day (and night) off, Jeff was at home when the girls’ ride to school showed up.

The plan Jessica and Jeff had finalized included Jessica and Jeff saying that Alan, “as usual,” had not picked up the kids per a scheduled visitation pickup time at 6:00 P.M. So the children had to be dropped off at Jessica’s mother’s house. Jessica said she was even going to tell her mother that Alan didn’t show up. Ask her to watch the kids that night so she and Jeff could celebrate a belated Valentine’s Day. She would pick them up in the morning.

This would open up that window of opportunity to commit murder.

The plan appeared infallible.

David Dorn had advised Jessica to settle her case out of court if she could. He didn’t like to see his clients go to trial. Trials never turned out the way either party wanted. It was always better to come to some sort of amicable agreement pretrial.

Jessica said no way. She wanted to see this to the end.

The depositions started at 9:42 A.M., according to the court reporter hired to record what was said.

Jessica went first. She sat. Frank Head asked questions. Standard divorce stuff that lawyers go through all the time.

There was a break late in the morning, somewhere near ten-thirty. Jessica called Jeff. There was a slight, little problem with their plan, she whispered into the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Jeff asked.

“Just for your information,” Jessica reported, “Terra’s here.”

Jeff went silent. Even though they had discussed what to do if Terra showed up with Alan, they thought for certain she was staying in Maryland.

“We’ll just have to do them both,” Jeff recalled Jessica telling him a few nights earlier as this contingency arose during a conversation.

“Okay,” Jeff said over the phone that morning, “that’s a complication.”

They didn’t discuss it on the telephone specifically, Jeff said later, but there was an agreement clearly implicit between the two of them: Terra Bates was not going to stand in the way of their plans.

“We’re going to have to kill her, too,” Jeff explained later, going back to that telephone conversation, describing what he was thinking after getting the news Terra was there, too. “I guess it was just assumed. It wasn’t mentioned. I don’t recall it being mentioned. . . . Basically, if you’re going to do one, you’ve got to do the other one if they’re there together.”

Collateral damage.

Most interesting, there was never a moment after their murder strategy had been outlined where Jessica or Jeff backed down and considered abandoning the plan. It would have to be adjusted. Certainly. Any good plan would be. But they were going through with what was now double murder, come hell or high water, and no one was going to stand in their way.

For Jeff, the only deal breaker, he admitted later, was if Alan’s parents showed up with him. Jeff said he would have never gone through with it if that had happened.

“I don’t know what Jessica would have done.”

During a lunch break, at 12:06 P.M., Frank Head and David Dorn took off together to eat and talk things through. They went right around the corner to a local place. Tony’s Terrific Hot Dogs. It was a familiar hot spot that Alan and Terra had actually eaten at routinely when they worked at the nearby Alabama Theatre.

As the group began to separate for lunch, Alan told Head, “I’m going to get Terra”—she was in the office waiting room—“and go get some lunch.”

“Be back by one,” Head said.

Alan smiled.

Jessica ate alone upstairs in Dorn’s office. There was a long conference table where the depositions were held. Jessica sat and began eating her lunch there.

Kelly McCloskey, the court reporter Dorn had hired to type the deposition, planned on using the lunch break to get a jump on proofing the record. “Can I work on these transcripts over lunch, Mr. Dorn?” McCloskey asked the attorney before he left.

“Sure.”

As McCloskey went through her work, Jessica stepped out to go to the restroom. She looked calm. Confident. Like things were going her way.

When Jessica returned, McCloskey was on the phone with her firm, finding out what her next assignment was. There were some conflicts, McCloskey said later in court, and she was in contact with her office to try to work things out.

Jessica looked on, watching McCloskey talk on the phone, waiting for the opportunity to say something. It was obvious Jessica wanted to talk. McCloskey had work to do, however. She didn’t have time for idle conversation.

“My husband’s a police officer in Pelham,” Jessica said after McCloskey hung up with her boss.

“Really?”

“He’s been a cop for some time. . . . We live in Hoover.”

Jessica carried on. Did not stop talking. McCloskey was getting a bit impatient with her, when, McCloskey said later, “Jessica just blurted it out.”

“It wouldn’t take much for [my husband] to shoot somebody,” Jessica explained to the court reporter.

How strange it was for Jessica to say such a thing. McCloskey was startled by this, adding later, “And I just automatically took it to be justifiable homicide that she was speaking of.”

McCloskey didn’t answer. She gave Jessica a quick roll-your-eyes stare, then continued with her work.

Jessica, though, did not stop. “I don’t understand why Alan is fighting so hard for [Samantha, the oldest daughter]—she’s not even his child. But, of course, he doesn’t actually know that yet.” There was a sarcastic tone to her voice. She was making fun of Alan, even though he wasn’t around. To a stranger, no less.

Jessica then talked about how Alan used to hit her when they were married.

“She did mention an incident where he had her arrested, and said that he had—she had attempted to hit him or assault him in some way,” but that it was actually Alan who had hit her.

McCloskey wanted off the subject of Jessica and Alan’s life. She was a court reporter, not a therapist.

It was 1:00 P.M.

Finally lunch was over.

47

During his side of the deposition, Alan discussed a day when he believed Jessica was hiding the children at her sister’s house in Florida. David Dorn was disturbed by this—that Alan could make such an allegation without any proof. There were other things said throughout the day, but the case would be in a judge’s hands in a matter of weeks.

Alan felt confident as he and Terra got ready to leave Dorn’s office. Things had gone well. When it came down to it, Jessica was not a good liar. It was so clear that she was making things up, it was almost embarrassing to have to sit and listen. But there it was: all out in the open now.

It was a little after 3:00 P.M. as everyone met in Dorn’s office. Alan mentioned that since they had finished so early, would it be possible for him and Terra to pick up the girls sooner? It would be nice to get a jump on traffic and get out of Birmingham before five o’clock.

Jessica snapped: “No! Won’t work. The girls have some things going on after school, extracurricular activities, and won’t be home.”

So it was back to the original agreement. Alan said he’d be at the Myrtlewood Drive house at 6:00 P.M. sharp. He wanted the kids ready to go.

Frank Head asked Alan if he was all set.

Alan said he was.

They agreed to talk the following week.

Jessica stayed with David Dorn as everyone left. Kelly McCloskey packed her things. She heard an exchange between Dorn and Jessica. Dorn was sitting down, going through some paperwork. Jessica had a “bragging” tone to her voice, as though she had gotten one over on Alan. “That time,” Jessica told Dorn, “when Alan was looking for the girls at my sister’s . . . [we] all knew where the kids were.” She laughed. The reference was to a particular portion of the deposition that had visibly angered Alan. Alan was certain Jessica had been lying to him—and here was Jessica now laughing about it, saying he was right. “My sister had instructions from me,” she continued, “to tell Alan the girls weren’t there.”

“What?” Dorn said. He stopped what he was doing. Stood. He was upset. “Perturbed” was how Kelley McCloskey later put it.

“I cannot believe my client would do something like that,” Dorn reportedly said to Jessica. “You were in contempt of court. You should have never done that.”

“Boastfully” was the word Dorn later used to describe Jessica’s demeanor during this same scene. She was ecstatic over the fact that she had lied to Alan and had easily gotten away with it.

Jessica didn’t react to Dorn’s frustration. She just stood there.

“You mean you and your family,” Dorn said, disgusted, “did not have the common decency to let this man see his children?”

Jessica walked in the door at 4:30 P.M.

Jeff was waiting.

They had ninety minutes to get things prepared for Alan and Terra, who were grabbing a quick bite to eat downtown.

The problem was getting Alan and Terra into the backyard so they would walk in the back door. That was key to the plan going off without a hitch.

“The den,” Jeff explained, “here in the den.”

It was the perfect murder room. There was a couch. Jessica could offer them a seat. Jeff could walk up and take several quick pops. It would be over.

The room was adjacent to the garage. “Back of the house,” Jeff said later, explaining how he and Jessica went about preparing the house for the murders. “It’s the standard entrance. Trees, shrubs, whatever—behind the house. No windows facing either of the neighbors or facing the street.”

Jeff had written a note on a piece of cardboard earlier that day and had placed it on the front door: WE’RE HAVING SOME PROBLEMS . . . PLEASE COME AROUND TO THE BACK DOOR.

Jeff took out his weapon, a .44-caliber Beretta. He had purchased it from another officer while working for the Birmingham PD. As Jessica watched, he made sure it was “readily available and loaded.” He planned to strip the weapon after the murders. He and Jessica could then spread those pieces out along the interstate.

Jeff’s duty weapon as a cop was a standard-issue Glock. This Beretta will throw a little confusion into the crime, Jeff thought. They’ll know I carry the Glock. . . . It’ll confuse them.

It was decided Jessica was going to answer the door. She would make initial contact with Terra and Alan.

“I was,” Jeff said later, “actually under the impression that she was scared of Alan. . . . My being there was meant as a surprise. I believed she was afraid that if Alan had the opportunity, he might do something to her.”

Jessica made it clear to her better half: “You will be in the den when they come to the door.”

Jeff nodded his head. He understood.

48

Right on time, 6:00 P.M., Alan and Terra pulled up in front of the McCord home. Alan drove a Grand Am he had picked up from the Avis terminal that morning. Jessica and Jeff were inside the house, upstairs, waiting, looking out the window. They had a new plan. It didn’t involve the sign on the front door anymore.

Jessica spied Alan’s car. Then she ran outside to greet them.

Alan wanted to park on the street. Not ever being allowed in the house before today, he looked quizzically at the house, until he saw Jessica in the driveway waving at him. She was motioning for Alan to pull into the driveway.

Park here.

Jeff sat on a stool in the den, eight feet away from the couch Terra and Alan were going to be told to sit on. He had his Beretta tucked inside his waistband. By now, Jeff and Jessica had come up with what they believed was a foolproof plan to get Terra and Alan to sit on the couch. It couldn’t miss. There was no way Alan would refuse when Jessica told him what was going on. Jessica knew how to address Alan’s sensibilities. Using the kids as a ploy was the key. He’d fall for it without a second thought.

Terra walked in first. She looked bright and chipper, maybe even a little curious. This hospitality was so unlike Jessica. She had never wanted Alan inside her home before. Why now? Why had she changed her mind?

Alan walked toward the door while eyeing the dog.

“He barks. . . . He might bite,” Jessica warned.

The dog went nuts. “Come on,” Alan said. He was in fear of the dog. What is this? What’s going on? Get that damn dog to calm down.

“Don’t be afraid, Alan,” Jessica said. “Come on in.”

Jessica walked in last, behind Alan and Terra.

Entering the den, Jessica told Alan and Terra to have a seat on the couch. Why? “The girls are upstairs. They’ve been preparing a play for you.” She smiled. Alan seemed a bit confused until Jessica mentioned the play. The girls were always putting on plays and puppet shows and pretending. Alan was all about the theater. “They want to show it to you quickly before y’all leave, okay?” Jessica added.

Jessica walked up the stairs toward the bedrooms to make it look good. The kids were supposedly waiting there.

“Okay,” Alan said. He sat down. Terra sat on the other side of the couch. “Fine, fine.”

Not even two minutes later, Jessica returned. Alan and Terra were sitting together, facing Jessica, who now stood in front of them. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence and staring.

“The girls have been sick,” Jessica said.

“Really?” Alan responded.

“They don’t need to be out in this weather.”

“Well, we need to get going.”

“What do you plan on doing this weekend?”

“Don’t know.”

“Sam’s been having problems with math. Philip might be able to help him, being an engineer, you know.”

“Yeah,” Alan said.

This was strange: Alan and his ex-wife in her den talking about the kids like normal human beings.

Jeff finally spoke up. “Maybe it’s something Sam can pursue, you know, mathematics. What, Alan, with your expertise in physics as far as weights and balances from your theater experience.”

“Where are the girls?”

“Oh, they’re still getting ready for the play,” Jessica said. “They’ll be down soon.”

Jeff stood. He had been sitting on the hearth area of the brick fireplace inside the den. Terra was directly opposite from where Jeff now stood in front of her. Alan moved away from Terra for no apparent reason and sat at the other end of the couch.

Without a word Jeff reached around to the back of his waistband, pulled out his Beretta and shot Terra near her head.

“I can’t remember if I double-tapped her,” Jeff said later. Meaning, “You know, obviously, two rounds in the same mass.”

Terra fell forward. Dropped to the floor.

Of course, startled and shocked by this, Alan went to stand.

Jeff pointed his weapon at Alan as he moved and fired at him twice.

Both shots hit Alan.

He tried to get up on his feet, according to Jeff, while saying, “You fuckhead.”

So Jeff shot him again, a third time, saying, “You’re the fuckhead!”

“I put a round in him and he stumbles to the floor,” Jeff explained later.

After disabling Alan from doing anything, something Jeff said he had learned from being a police officer, he put two more rounds into Terra, to make sure she was dead.

Terra had not said a word. Or moved.

“The way you’re taught, if you’ve got multiple targets you—you know—at least try to wound one, move to the other, ideally, you know, if you double-tap, fine. Put one down and then move to the other.”

The words of a trained killer.

Jeff described killing two human beings as methodical and calculating. It was as if he was talking about someone else, or a movie he had seen. He made it sound so common, so unrealistic. However, what was also clear from his description of that day was that Jeff McCord knew exactly what he was doing. The only consolation one can speculate from all of this is knowing that Terra, at least, had presumably no idea what was happening. She didn’t have to suffer the horror of thinking about dying.

“I don’t think she had time to assess the threat,” Jeff explained, “or recognize, Oh, damn, something’s about to happen.”

Murder was now a something.

While Jeff killed Jessica’s ex-husband and his wife, Jessica sat on the second step of the stairs in front of them, watching, looking on as if it was some sort of staged play. She was calm and collected. It was as if every wish Jessica had was coming true in front of her eyes.

She might have even enjoyed it.

“Go move the car,” Jeff ordered.

Jessica snapped out of the moment and jumped up. Walked over to Alan’s body and rummaged through his coat, looking for his car keys.

“Where are the keys?”

They needed to bring Alan’s car up to the back door so they could load the bodies into the trunk as planned.

Jeff walked over. Checked to see if Alan and Terra were still alive. There was blood now soaking into the carpet, like spilled juice. There were tiny spots of blood on the coffee table. The couch, too.

“Visual assessment,” Jeff said later, describing his next move as if he were an army medic out on the battlefield communicating via walkie-talkie. “No signs of breathing.” The ability Jeff had to detach himself emotionally from the telling of this horrific event was truly frightening. Here was a guy describing how he had murdered two innocent people in cold blood, and he spoke of it as though he was being questioned as part of an exam. No compassion or remorse whatsoever was present in Jeff’s demeanor.

Just facts, one after the next.

Jeff reached down and checked Terra’s and Alan’s carotid artery—neck—pulses, as he coldly put it later, to “make sure.”

Confident they were both dead, Jeff went around the room, knelt down and picked up all the shell casings. In his head he kept repeating how many shots he had fired—six rounds . . . six . . . six—and he knew he needed to find that number of casings.

After pocketing the casing shells, Jeff broke the gun apart. Then he began to think about what else needed to be done.

Yet in all of it, Jeff was wrong. The coroner later reported finding eight wounds.