Perfect Murder, Perfect Town - Lawrence Schiller [1]
Merry Christmas and much love,
The Ramseys
ACCESS CELEBRATES $1 BILLION MARK
A billion bucks. That’s enough to make anybody celebrate.
So when Boulder-based computer distributor Access Graphics Inc. passed the $1 billion mark in 1996 revenues, it tossed a luncheon party at the Hotel Boulderado on Friday.
John Ramsey, president of Access Graphics, thanked about 300 employees at the gathering and told them it couldn’t have happened without them.
Reaching the billion-dollar mark has come relatively quickly for Access, which was formed in 1989 from the merger of three companies: CAD Distributors Inc. of Boulder; CAD Sources Inc. of Piscataway, N.J.; and Advanced Products Group of Roswell, Ga.
—Tom Locke, business writer
Daily Camera, December 21, 1996
PART ONE
A Death in Paradise
“Do roses know their thorns can hurt?” JonBenét asked me that one morning. I was the landscaper at the Ramseys’ home during the last two years of her life, and it was the kind of question I’d learned to expect from her.
I remember how intelligent JonBenét was. That’s why I never talked to her as if she were just a little kid. I spoke to her pretty much as I would to an adult, the way I’m talking to you now. We would discuss evolution, the natural mutations that occur in plants, animals, even people.
So when she asked me about thorns, I told her, “They’re a rose’s shield. They allow roses to survive. They keep away animals who might eat them.”
She would follow me all over the yard, finding something to do wherever I was working. I was happy to talk with her, and would answer her questions about anything and everything. All the topics you’d call natural science seemed to interest her.
“What is a year?”
“That’s the length of time it takes for the earth to make one trip all around the sun.”
“So I’ve been around the sun five times?”
“Right. And you’ve almost finished your sixth trip.”
I added that I’d completed the journey twenty-seven times. That stopped her. So many trips, she exclaimed. Then she became lost in thought.
That same week in September, the needles were falling off the pine tree and the sap had started to drip. “Why does a tree do that?” she asked. I wasn’t certain I knew exactly, but I tried to explain—scientifically. “The sun helps pull the sap up from the trunk to the leaves.” Then I compared the sap to human blood, said the sap carries nourishment to the whole tree. Anyone could see she was excited to learn about these things.
The neighborhood kids would come by from time to time. JonBenét seemed to socialize with them just fine. Her brother, Burke, was three years older. He almost never said a word to me. Just played by himself in the backyard, completely occupied with his own projects. Next to the sandbox and swing, in the pea gravel area, he dug a system of canals. Then he put a hose on top of the slide. The water poured down and spread perfectly throughout the elaborate waterway.
“Someday you’re going to be an engineer?” I asked him. “No,” he said. Just a single word—no.
He always seemed to play alone.
Just then Patsy called from inside, “It’s time to start your homework.” I remember thinking, There’s a mother who really cares about her children.
“Burke, come in and start your homework.”
“OK, just a minute, Mom.” It was like an old-fashioned TV show—Leave It to Beaver or Father Knows Best.
While I kept the gardens well-defined and tidy, as pristine as a golf course, JonBenét had her own projects. She would attach an exercise device to her ankle, and then, as it rotated several inches off the ground parallel to it, she would hop with the other leg over the cord as it swung by. She’d keep this up for long periods on the back patio. And she was very good at it. It was kind of a cool thing—demanded good reflexes and coordination. I even thought of getting