Perfect Murder, Perfect Town - Lawrence Schiller [137]
“No, no, no, no,” Hunter replied.
Shapiro searched in his backpack and gave the DA a copy of “Code of Silence,” a paper he’d written about the Simpson case.
“I’d like to talk to you again,” Hunter told him as he walked into the Justice Center.
Shapiro rushed to a student computer lab and wrote his report, which he faxed to the Globe. Then he called Mullins, his editor.
“We need to know what Hunter meant by ‘looking into the area of pedophilia,’” Mullins said. “Go back and see what he says about that.”
En route to Hunter’s office, Shapiro was apprehensive. To his surprise, Hunter invited him in. Before the DA could say a word, Shapiro blurted out: “I wasn’t straight with you outside. The truth is, I work for the Globe.”
“Mullins called me after he received your phone call,” Hunter said grinning.
“He did?”
“He told me you’re young and you’re a bit overenthusiastic,” Hunter continued. “He wanted to make sure you weren’t getting too excited about your job. Something like that.” The DA smiled.
The situation was bizarre, Shapiro thought. Here was the DA talking to his editor after he had publicly expressed outrage at the Globe for publishing the autopsy and crime-scene photos. Before long, though, they were joking about the Simpson case. It struck Shapiro that Hunter was asking most of the questions. He wasn’t the interviewer; he was the interviewee.
Hunter suggested that they keep in touch, and Shapiro gave the DA his pager number.
A couple of days later, Shapiro’s pager buzzed. Though he didn’t recognize the number, he returned the call.
“Hey, buddy,” someone said.
“Alex.” It was Hunter.
“I’m thinking of meeting Stephen Singular,” Hunter said. “I want to know what you think of him.”
Singular had some good ideas, Shapiro told him. Then he requested a meeting. In the intervening days, Mullins had told him that the Globe was looking at a wild rumor. They’d heard that the Ramseys were hinting that Fleet White was somehow connected to the murder of their daughter—a rumor that was never substantiated. Surely Alex Hunter would know something about it.
“Did Mullins ask you to come back?” was how Hunter greeted me.
I laughed. “Yeah.”
First I asked him if the rumors were true that the Whites were distancing themselves from the Ramseys.
“No,” he said. “It’s the Ramseys who are distancing themselves from the Whites.”
“Who else knows about this?” I asked.
“I would think the Enquirer is already on that story.” I realized that Hunter was talking to several of the tabloids.
As we kicked around different theories of the case, Hunter became my commander-in-chief. I started to think of stories in terms of what Hunter said rather than in terms of what my editors wanted. If Hunter had a theory, I figured it was worth pursuing.
Around the same time, in late March, I called Pam Griffin, JonBenét’s pageant seamstress. She was very talkative. Of course I didn’t tell her right off that I worked for the Globe. I knew she’d find out the truth eventually.
She was a close friend of Patsy’s, and I figured she might know what was in the ransom note. I asked her if the words foreign faction were used. She said she believed they might have been. Alli Krupski, a reporter for the Daily Camera, had told me she’d heard from a cop that the word Iran was also in the note. So I called the director of the International Institute for the Study of Terrorism at George Washington University for information on Iranian terrorist groups thought to be active in the U.S. He gave me the name of one death squad—Missionaries of Iran. They strangle people and sometimes behead them. That connected to rumors I’d heard that the ransom note threatened JonBenét would be beheaded. So I concocted this crazy but fascinating conspiracy theory, called Guardians of the Revolution.
I decided to write up my theory and give it to a few people. I hoped the Ramseys would hear about it and that I might get closer to them. The story was never intended for publication.
I decided