Читать книгу Dead Center - Frank J. Daniels - Страница 11

= chapter 3 =

In Search of Evidence

Back on the Uncompahgre Plateau, investigators were fanning out. The Mesa County Search and Rescue Team and an Explorer Troop joined in the search for evidence at the crime scene by forming lines of searchers walking at arm’s length in straight lines, combing the area. Dan Faed, a retired Public Service lineman, had been a volunteer with the Search and Rescue team for the past ten years. He was an experienced game tracker and later worked as a hunting guide for twenty-six years. Chief of Police Rory Clark, from a small town nearby, volunteered to assist with metal detection. Chief Clark is self-taught in the use of metal detectors. A doctor once told him to do a lot of walking to help with a back problem, so he took up metal detection as a hobby. He has operated metal detectors for thousands of hours while searching for coins and other historical artifacts. He also had used them previously for law enforcement purposes. Shortly after beginning his search of the crime scene, Clark’s metal detector alerted him to the presence of a metal object in the clump of oak brush pointed out to him by Investigator Armand. Spreading apart some leaves and grass he found a shiny brass rifle casing lying on the ground. Chief Clark is originally from Texas, a quality he brandishes with great aplomb. He is well-known for coming out with a new off-color, redneck colloquialism of some sort each day and that day was no exception. “Well I’ll be dipped in shit and rolled in bran flakes.”

Dan Faed was examining the muddy boots Janice had left at the camper when he was told about the discovery of the shell casing. He immediately focused on that area. Before long, he located a boot sole impression that appeared to be consistent with Janice’s boots about forty feet from the shell casing in a direction away from Bruce’s body. Twenty feet from that impression, he found another print that was from a different, larger boot. Using a casting material called Hydrocal, a crime scene investigator with the Sheriff’s Department made casts of the two prints and collected them as evidence.

Although careful measurements of the location of the shell casing were taken, no one made measurements of the location of the boot prints. That would later prove to be a huge mistake.

It was at this juncture that I first became aware of the death of John Bruce Dodson. As District Attorney, I am notified whenever a death occurs under suspicious circumstances. In the beginning, all I heard was that a hunter had been found shot to death. Since my jurisdiction encompasses thousands of square miles of federal public lands, including some of the best public hunting areas in the West, and because this could have been an accidental death, I was not overly concerned. There are hunting-related firearms deaths just about every year in Colorado. Nevertheless something about Dodson’s death seemed peculiar and I asked my investigator, Bill Booth, to keep an eye on it.

We soon learned that, serendipitously, Brent Branchwater, who had been hunting on the Uncompahgre Plateau the day of John Bruce Dodson’s death and reported it, was a fellow law enforcement officer. In fact, he was a captain. Since it was clear that he would be a witness at future court proceedings, should there be any regarding Bruce’s death, Police Lieutenant Ron Finley asked Branchwater to write down, in his own words and from the perspective of a police officer, the events of that weekend and bring it to him. He agreed.

LOG OF EVENTS

Thursday, October 12, 1995: Arrive at campsite about 2:30 P.M. and set up camp. Scout the area until dark.

Friday, October 13, 1995: Ryan and I spend the day scouting. Return to camp around dark for dinner. Around 9:00 P.M., two vehicles arrive. One a red and white Bronco, the other a VW Camper. After some trouble getting into the opening from the road, both vehicles park on a rise just above our camp. We have no contact with the people.

Saturday, October 14, 1995: Ryan and I get up around 5:00 A.M., eat and head into the canyon by way of the 4 × 4 road over the ridge above camp. Hunt the entire day, having lunch from our packs. Around 3:30 P.M. I shoot a small deer. Ryan and I have to drag the deer from the bottom of the canyon to the truck. We get into camp late. The deer is hung, we take some photos, eat and go to bed.

Sunday, October 15, 1995: I plan to stay in camp to quarter my deer because the days are warm. Ryan gets up around 5 A.M. Before he eats and leaves, we make plans to go into town when Ryan comes in for lunch. We need more ice and are going to have a meal. About 7:00 A.M. while I’m still in bed in the tent, a shot goes off awakening me. The first shot is followed by hollering. I cannot tell what words are being hollered. I look at the clock to check the time. I could see 7:0-something showing. In a moment another shot goes off, then another, followed by the thump of a bullet strike. These two shots are clearly coming from the area in front of the people’s camp nearby. Not wanting to go out while there is shooting nearby, I lay in the tent until about 7:30 A.M. and then go out and head to the cook tent for some breakfast. I see a person in coveralls and orange vest and hat carrying a rifle up the tree line in front of the VW camper. The person is walking toward the vehicles.

After eating, I start skinning my deer and notice the same person come to the back of the Bronco. I now can see it is a female. She is dressed in blue jeans, sweater jacket, orange vest and sandals with white socks. She steps on the back bumper of the Bronco and pulls out a gun case. It is a brown soft case. With her back toward me, she puts the gun in the case and puts it in the back of the Bronco. She steps down, rolls the window up then turns and sees me. Neither of us acknowledges the other. I continue to skin the deer. When I get to quartering the meat a few minutes later, someone behind me says, “That’s a nice forky you have there.” I turn and find the aforementioned female standing behind me. She has a cup of water and a toothbrush in her hand. She begins a polite conversation asking about where we are from, who we are and what we do. I find she is originally from the same general area Ryan and I are from. I mention hearing shots and hollering and ask if one of her group got a deer. She says she has not heard any shooting or hollering from the area. She says her husband is on the mountain somewhere. This is his first deer hunt and she is hunting elk. She asks where my friend is and I tell her he’s hunting over in the canyon and will be down at lunch. We are going into town for ice and a meal.

She tells me that they haven’t brought enough water and would we mind bringing them some back. I tell her we would and to just put their containers by our cook tent. She says they have friends camped on the mountain above and when her husband comes in they are going there so they can put him on a deer.

She says he should have been back by now and she is going to circle the area to look for him. She says if he comes to camp while she is gone, ask him to stay. She says his name is Bruce. She introduces herself as what I thought to be “Denise.” I tell her my name is Brent. She says again the water jugs will be by her camper. Once more I ask her to put them by our tent. She goes to her vehicles and I return to the deer.

I finish boning the meat and put it into the ice chests and am putting the carcass in a bag for disposal. I have a radio playing and I can hear what I think might be an elk bugling. I turn off the radio to listen. I can now hear the sound clearly. It is a person screaming for help and is coming from the direction of the area in front of the Bronco and the VW. I run up in front of our sleeping tent and look over the rise. The female is standing by someone lying on the ground. She has an orange vest in one hand. When she sees me she starts hollering and beating the vest on the ground. She is saying, “Why didn’t you have your orange on?!!” She then picks up a gun lying there and throws it on the ground.

I shout and ask what is wrong. All she says is, “He’s hurt.” I start to run over and she runs to meet me at the front of their vehicles. When she gets to me she sinks to the ground. I ask if the man has a bad heart. She says, “No, he’s hurt. You’ve got to help him.” I run to the man lying there. She gets up and follows me. As I approach the man I can see a hole in the back of his jacket with bloodstains around it. He is lying on his stomach, palms of hands down with his head turned facing a fence to his left. He has on a gray sweater jacket and what I think are faded jeans, some hiking-type boots, an orange cap partially on his head and glasses. He has brown cotton gloves on his hands. The rifle has landed by the man’s left hand parallel to the fence. There are two empty casings lying just inside the area between the left hand and his head. There are no other pieces of clothing around except the orange vest she has thrown down at his feet. I ask if this is her husband Bruce. She said it is. I shout at him as I kneel by his right side. There is no response so I lean over to check for a carotid pulse on the neck. I can find none. I notice his face is blue and his eyes are glazed over. I then take the glove off his right hand to check for a pulse on the wrist. I can find none. I can see he is not breathing. As I am doing this, the female picks up the two empty casings and throws them. They hit my leg and glance off the ground in front of me. I tell her I am sorry, but the man is gone. She says, “No, he’s trying to talk—see?” His mouth opens and closes in a muscle spasm. I again tell her he is dead. She says, “No, you’ve got to help him.”

Ryan has our truck on the mountain and the key to the four wheeler also. I tell her I have to go for help and ask where the keys to her Bronco are. She says she doesn’t know. I ask if they are in the Bronco and she says they may be. I run to the Bronco and find the keys on the dashboard.

I drive the Bronco up the road to look for help. I see two men in a truck and wave them over. They tell me they have a cell phone we could try dialing 9-1-1 on. One dials the phone while the other gives me some water. I can barely speak my mouth is so dry. The man on the phone reaches a 9-1-1 operator and tries to tell her where we are and what has happened. When I have enough water to be able to talk, I take the phone and try to tell her what has happened. I figure I left my camp about 9:30 to go for help. It took ten minutes to find the men and make the call.

After a lengthy talk with the operator trying to find out what county we are in, a maroon Chevy X-Cab comes by with two men inside. They pass by going downhill. In a few minutes the truck is back where I am on the phone. There is one man in the truck now. He stops and says he needs to use the phone because there is a lady that flagged them down and said her husband has been shot. His brother is with her back at the camp. I tell him I have the sheriff’s office on the line and that I am going to meet the deputy on the Divide Road and bring him up. I ask if they will stay with her until I get back with the deputy.

The female’s purse is in the Bronco and I ask the man if he will take it to her, as I don’t want to be responsible for it if she has any medications in it she may need. He agrees and I give it to him. I tell the operator the license plate number of the Bronco and its color and where I will meet the deputy. I hang up and go to the intersection of Divide Road and Dominguez Trail.

After about ten to fifteen minutes a forest ranger comes by. He stops and asks if I am the one waiting for the sheriff’s officer. I tell him yes and he radios responding officers confirming the location. He says the sheriff’s officer is on the way and will be there in about forty-five minutes. The deputy comes along shortly and follows me back to the camp. I park the Bronco next to the camper. Not exactly where it had been before. The two men in the maroon truck had parked next to where the body lay. When I go up with the deputy, Kevin Patrick, I can see the woman sitting on the ground holding the man’s head in her lap. The man is now on his back, covered up with a blue quilted cover and a blue plaid cover.

The deputy tries to get her away from the body, but she refuses. Then he asks me to help get her away. She finally goes with me back to where we have a utility trailer parked. I get her a chair and some water and get her to sit down. She wants to know why it has taken me so long to get back. I tell her it was a long way to get help there in the mountains. I try to engage her in conversation to keep her from going back down to the body. She tells me she and her husband were in the medical field. I ask what they do. She tells me Bruce is a lab technician and she is a nurse in the psych ward. She tells me today is their three-month wedding anniversary and they are supposed to have a date tonight. She looks toward where the deputy is working and says, “You did tell them I threw the gun there didn’t you?” I tell her yes.

She tells me she is cold so I get out a plaid insulated shirt and give it to her to put on. She then asks me if I have any children. I tell her I have two. She says she has a daughter and a son. She tells me she taught her children to shoot by using a .22 rifle on chipmunks. She also says she reloads all her own ammo for her guns. She says she and her ex-husband had run hunting camps in this area for years. She found out he had a girlfriend where he was working and when she found this out she divorced him.

Vehicles begin arriving. With every one which passes she asks if it is the paramedics or when is the helicopter going to get here. The woman tells me what a great relationship she and Bruce had. That he was so loving and punctual. She talks about his mother and how she often sent money to Bruce, $10,000 usually. Bruce’s dad had been an executive with R. J. Reynolds and had bought stock in the company all along. When he died he left it all to Bruce’s mom. Also, she tells me that his mother had taken the life insurance and stocks and invested the money and done well with it. She talks about how she and Bruce improved Bruce’s home and how it doubled the value. She talks about what guns to hunt with there. She says she broke her back and doctors told her not to be shooting so she has a light rifle; a .270 I think. She tells me she hasn’t missed a hunting season and was going to come regardless. Bruce had asked if she was going whether or not he came along. She told him she was. She says Bruce wanted to use a shotgun, but she had borrowed a rifle for him. She says this was his first time to hunt deer. She says she would get up first and warm the camper and make coffee for him while he lay in bed. She would then leave first to get a head start to go low on the mountain and push the draws up trying to run deer to him. She says she had gotten into a bog and got her clothes muddy and had to come back to change. A little while later the deputy comes over and asks me to give him a statement. The two men who had stayed with her while waiting for the deputy sit with her again. I provide the deputy with I.D. and give an account of events.

Other law enforcement officers arrive along with the coroner. A female crisis intervention counselor arrives and is brought to the camp to talk to the victim’s wife. From this point I sit on the front bumper of one of the sheriff’s office vehicles. Every so often one of the men comes and asks me a question then talks to the victim’s wife. One investigator asks about the gun she put in the Bronco. They get permission to look and open the tailgate. They remove the brown case and ask if this was the one I saw her put in the vehicle. I tell them it is. He unzips the case and removes a synthetic-stocked, stainless bolt-action rifle. I cannot I.D. the gun as I never saw it clearly until then. They tell the lady they are going to take the gun in for testing and write her a receipt. At this point she begins to faint. One of the officers is an EMT. He produces a medical kit and checks her. The officer decides she is going into shock. A helicopter is called for and she is airlifted out. It is about dark when the helicopter clears. The deputies ask if the woman’s vehicles will be okay there as they will be back the next day to investigate further. I tell them I am not going to mess with them and will keep an eye out.

Ryan makes it into camp after being checked on the ridge by a deputy. He had to wait for the helicopter to take off before he could come down the slope. I tell him what happened and ask why he hadn’t come down for lunch. He says he walked a ways and just wanted to stay out. We go ahead and go to town anyway. I need to get away for a while. We drive to Grand Junction and eat at a fast food restaurant. It is about midnight when we got back to camp. We go to bed after caring for the deer meat.

Monday, October 16, 1995: I stay in camp while Ryan goes hunting. Deputies return around noon and use Search & Rescue team to check the area.

As soon as Branchwater’s report was brought to me, I read it with rising interest, paying special attention to Branchwater’s description of Janice’s reactions at the death scene. Something in my gut told me there was more to this grieving widow’s story than she told.