The Crucifix Killer - Chris Carter [12]
One August night, after another heated argument, Linda’s body was found in their kitchen with a single .38 caliber revolver shot to the back of the head, execution style. There was no sign of a struggle or break in, no defense wounds or bruises on Linda’s arms or hands. The evidence found in the crime scene together with the fact that he had disappeared after his argument with Linda made John Spencer the primary and only suspect. Hunter and Wilson were assigned to the case.
John was only picked up days later drunk and high on heroin. In his interrogation he didn’t deny he’d had another row with his wife that night. He’d admitted their marriage had been going through a rough phase. He remembered the argument and leaving the house angry, agitated and drunk, but what he couldn’t remember was what had happened to him for the past few days. He had no alibi. But he also sustained that he would never hurt Linda. He was still crazy in love with her.
Homicide investigations involving celebrities in Hollywood had always attracted a lot of attention and the media was quick to create their own circus – ‘FAMOUS AND RICH PRODUCER MURDERS BEAUTIFUL WIFE IN JEALOUS RAGE.’ Even the mayor was calling for a swift resolution to the case.
The prosecution showed that John did own a .38 caliber revolver, but it had never been found. They also had no problem getting witnesses to testify to all the public rows John and Linda used to have. In most cases, John did all the yelling while Linda just cried. Establishing that John Spencer had an aggressive temper had been child’s play.
Wilson was convinced of John’s guilt, but Hunter was sure they had the wrong man. To Hunter, John was just a scared kid who had got rich too fast, and with the money and fame came the drugs. John had no history of violence. In school he’d been just another regular geeky-looking kid – torn blue jeans, strange haircut, always listening to his heavy metal music.
Hunter tried reasoning with Wilson many times.
‘OK, so he had rows with his wife, but you find me a marriage without them,’ Hunter argued. ‘In none of those rows had he ever hit or hurt Linda.’
‘Ballistics proved that the bullet that killed her came from the same stash found in John Spencer’s office desk drawer,’ Wilson shouted.
‘That doesn’t prove he pulled the trigger.’
‘All the fibers found on the victim came from the same clothes John was wearing the night we found him. Ask anyone who knew the couple. He had a foul temper on him, shouting at her all the time. You’re a psychologist. You know how these things escalate.’
‘Exactly, they escalate. Gradually. It doesn’t usually just jump from heated arguments to shooting someone in the back of the head in one single step.’
‘Look Robert, I’ve always respected your assessment of a suspect. It has guided us in the right direction many times, but I also like to follow my gut. And my gut tells me this time you’re wrong.’
‘The guy deserves a chance. We should carry on with the investigation. Maybe there’s something we missed.’
‘We can’t carry on.’ Wilson laughed. ‘It ain’t up to us to make that decision. You know better. We’ve done our part. We followed the evidence we had and we apprehended the suspect we were after. Let his attorneys deal with it now.’
Hunter knew what killers were made of and John Spencer simply didn’t fit the bill, but his opinion alone meant nothing. Wilson was right. It was out of their hands now. They were already behind on five other cases and Captain Bolter threatened Hunter with suspension if he wasted any more time in a case that was officially closed.
The jury took less than three hours to reach the verdict of guilty as charged and John Spencer was sentenced to life imprisonment. And life’s what he got. Twenty-eight days after his conviction John hung himself using his bed sheet. In his cell, next to his body a single note that read Linda, I’ll be with you soon. No more arguments, I promise.
Twenty-two