Perfect Murder, Perfect Town - Lawrence Schiller [219]
Hunter was speechless. The question of what Thomas, Gosage, or Eller might do with this information would trouble him for months. Only his close relationship with Koby protected him from exposure.
Koby made no comment about the tape, and quickly changed the subject. He told Hunter he thought that Mark Beckner was the right man to take over the Ramsey investigation. Beckner, the father of two, had come up through the ranks of the Boulder PD and had once headed the internal affairs division. He had graduated from college with a degree in criminal justice and joined the department as a patrol officer. He was organizationally sound—made assignments, followed up, met deadlines, and maintained quality control. More important, under Beckner’s supervision, the detectives would no longer decide on their own assignments as they often had done under Eller. Koby said he planned to permit Eller to stay on as head of the detective division, a position he’d held throughout the JonBenét investigation.
Koby told Hunter that his decision had not been influenced by the internal investigation into Larry Mason’s legal claims against the commander and the department. Nevertheless, the DA understood that Koby did not want Eller’s reassignment to be perceived as having been motivated from outside the Boulder police department.
One detective who didn’t know about Shapiro told a reporter covering the story that John Eller had taken the fall for the leaks in Vanity Fair. As always, he had protected his officers. They had always respected their commander, and this only increased their admiration.
When Tom Wickman told the detectives that Eller was being replaced, they were outraged, though Gosage had warned them it was coming. When they learned that Beckner would be heading up the investigation, they were stunned. It was all wrong to put a “grazer” in charge of the Ramsey case, they said, Dave Hayes, an old-time “meat eater,” was their kind of man.*
In the coming months, John Eller would arrive at work, walk into his office, and close the door—something he’d never done before. At five in the afternoon he would open his door and walk through the detective division on his way out of police headquarters. As he passed by, some detectives would mutter under their breath, “Fucking Koby.” One day a calendar indicating February 28, 1998, as the commander’s last day with the Boulder PD appeared on the wall near Eller’s door. Eller would mark off each day on the calendar. On New Year’s Eve, he held his annual party. All his detectives attended with their families.
Around October 8, my editor, Brian Williams, called me.
“Alex Hunter feels that some of the things he said to you have gotten out. He wants your access terminated.” Williams said it was completely over between me and Hunter.
I was floored, insulted. I had been fucked. I wondered if Hunter had found out all the stuff I was doing with the police.
Then Thomas called me.
“Jeff, you’ve got to decide if you’re a journalist, a private investigator, a mercenary, or whatever the hell it is you’re doing. I felt I owed you this phone call.”
I told Thomas that Hunter had terminated me. He didn’t sound surprised. He said things were hot, some confidentiality had been compromised. The detectives had all been told that if they were ever caught talking to one reporter, no matter how trivial the incident—a beer, a hello, a comment on the weather—their badge would be revoked. He said Koby had personally told him that if he ever talked to me again, his career was over.
“Who knows about things like Eller?” I asked Thomas.
“Me, Gosage, Wick. Koby. Whatever.”
“Fuck! You shouldn’t have told anyone about that.”
I called Koby.
“I think we’ve had all the conversations we’re going to