Perfect Murder, Perfect Town - Lawrence Schiller [266]
Detectives Thomas and Harmer visited the Whites to tell them of Beckner’s decision. White was furious. Again he said he should be afforded the same rights that John and Patsy had been given in April 1997, when they were given copies of their prior statements. Thomas said that Beckner was immovable and the decision was final. White then said that as of that moment, his cooperation with the police was over. As the detectives left, Priscilla White gave Jane Harmer a hug, and when Thomas reached for White’s hand, he was surprised to see tears in his eyes. White hugged the detective, but Thomas was sure that White had meant what he said.
Meanwhile, the city of Boulder released the police department’s running costs on the Ramsey case. In 1996 the officers’ overtime had amounted to $20,340.80. In 1997, overtime, travel, and investigative expenses came to $222,844.20. For the first four months of 1998, similar expenses came to $31,138.21. The district attorney’s additional costs of $215,000 were not included.
Though the case was on the DA’s doorstep, Pete Hofstrom told his boss that his weekly felony calendar was just as important as the Ramsey case. During the first week of May, for example, he was scheduled to make fourteen court appearances. On some Fridays, he attended hearings on a dozen pleas and sentences. For Hofstrom, it was a matter of policy that no one’s life should be neglected in favor of the Ramsey case, in which the search for justice had so often been subordinated to other agendas.
By May 8, Michael Kane was at work in the Boulder Justice Center. Trip DeMuth was unhappy about reporting to an outsider but understood the need for a specialist. An avid middle-distance runner, DeMuth now added a few more miles to his weekly schedule.
Finally, Bob Grant saw the months of consultation with Hunter start to pay off. All Hunter had really needed during the last year and a half, Grant believed, was support. Now, with Michael Kane on board, Grant saw little need for additional input from the metro DAs.
One of the first pieces of advice Kane gave Hunter was that the DA’s office should keep its collective mouth shut. Hunter knew that for eighteen months he had made up the rules with the media as he went along and had taken himself to the precipice—indeed, had possibly stepped over the edge. He realized that he could no longer risk having his casual remarks wind up in print. Nor could he afford to waste time talking. Abruptly, he withdrew behind a wall of silence.
The police department’s position about its officers talking to the press was made clear to a writer in a conversation with one of the detectives.
DETECTIVE: I have always been unclear as I watch Beckner, Koby, and Hunter and some other people that [talk] freely through the media and journalism circles while we are threatened with beheading if we say anything.
WRITER: Look at what happened to Linda Arndt.
DETECTIVE: Yeah, a tragedy.
They changed the subject:
WRITER: The case is going to be on his [Hunter’s] shoulders now.
DETECTIVE: I’ve got to believe that he will step up to the plate. I think the detectives at this point are just pouring their heart and souls into this presentation.
I know that Beckner is really encouraged. He wants us to come through. And Hunter is bringing all of his VIP people. I don’t think that they’re going to be disap pointed.
I have prosecuted X number of murder cases over the years and I can say to you, I have never had a murder case with one-hundredth of the investigation that has been put into this one.
After the detective hung up, he sat quietly thinking about the presentation.
“What’s wrong?” Mark Beckner said to him. “You’ve been so quiet lately.”
“It’s my medicine,” the detective replied. Beckner laughed. My medicine was a term the detectives used when they were taking it on the chin from the DA’s office.
On May 26, Hunter met with the members of his staff who would attend the police presentation including Denver DA investigator Tom Haney, who had been hired several