Perfect Murder, Perfect Town - Lawrence Schiller [103]
It was life-or-death for her. Her mother came to Boulder and took over with the children. Patsy would go to Bethesda and become very ill, even in the plane on the way back. Sometimes she’d travel all by herself. She was desperate. She didn’t want to die and leave her children motherless.
I kept thinking, Where the hell is John? I once asked her about that.
“Well, John has to…you know…”
I know John was worried and concerned, but it didn’t change his behavior. He’s a man of few words. And very concerned with his business.
In April or May of the following year she got a clean bill of health. If there is anybody who could overcome an illness by sheer will, it would be Patsy. Sheer determination.
One day soon after the good news, I found Patsy crying in the sun room in the front of the house. That’s where she had spent most of her time when she was recovering. She talked more about religion that day than we had ever done before. She said God wanted her to be an example. So I asked her, “What are you going to do with that?”
She’d spend more time with the children, she said.
No, no, look at the bigger picture, I told her. You can do things to help other women who are suffering the same way. You need to get out and tell your story, how you licked it.
So she offered support to other women. She called them and talked. She’d send people the book that inspired her.
Patsy took this step forward and then took two steps backward. She returned to all her social stuff and pretty much dropped her cancer stuff. She spent a lot of time building up their position in the community. And she worked at her children’s school relentlessly.
One day, in ’95 or ’96, Nedra took me upstairs. “Judith, you’ve got to see this.” She showed me Patsy’s closet. Nearby there was a display—almost a shrine. Pictures of Miss West Virginia. Patsy in every phase of her pageant days. Lots of paraphernalia on the walls. It surprised me.
Then there was the time Nedra pulled this little cowboy outfit out of the closet.
“This is not JonBenét’s,” I said. “What’s it for?”
“Well, Judith, we’re just getting JonBenét into a few pageants.”
“Why would you do something like that?”
“You know, she’s not too young to get started.”
“And what if JonBenét isn’t willing?” I asked. “What if she says, ‘I’m not going to do it!’ How would you respond to that?”
“Oh, Judith, we would never consider her saying no. We would tell JonBenét, ‘You must do it. You will be a Miss Pageant.’”
It was sort of eerie. A little scary. The inevitability of it—from grandmother to mother and now to daughter.
Another time, Nedra was so excited about this little antique chair that JonBenét had picked out in Denver. JonBenét and Nedra had been shopping, and JonBenét insisted on buying this chair. Nedra was so happy that the child had selected something, that her granddaughter was showing signs of exquisite taste.
It was obnoxiously expensive. Thousands. For a child’s chair.
“Well, as long as Mr. Ramsey brings the money in,” Nedra said, “we’ll spend it.”
John would have been happy living in a cabin with log furniture. He often said that in conversation.
Early last November, there was a surprise birthday party for Patsy. Her birthday is in late December, but the family was going to be back east, so the party was in November. Priscilla White organized the entire thing. John told her, “Wherever you want it to be—the sky’s the limit.”
We all met at the Safeway Shopping Center and were loaded into a large bus—all kinds of people. Nedra, Don, John, Patsy’s sisters, the Whites, Walkers, Stines, Fernies, Reverend Rol Hoverstock, and Patsy’s entire softball team. Then the bus drove to their home and parked while John went up to the door. Patsy was flabbergasted.
“Should I change?” were her first words.
“No, no, come along right now,” he told her.
Lots of laughing. Patsy didn’t have a clue where we were going. Patsy and John sat in the back. There was an open bar.
At the Brown