Читать книгу No, Daddy, Don’t!: A Father's Murderous Act Of Revenge - Irene Pence - Страница 11

THREE

In 1971, Michelle Ward graduated eighth of 400 in her Baton Rouge, Louisiana high school class. In the summer just prior to entering Louisiana State University, she began dating Dale LaBorde, and they fell in love. Her academics slipped slightly during her freshman year when she eloped with Dale.

Still, Michelle Ward LaBorde graduated with honors from college with a B.A. in Education, and began teaching fifth grade. Five years into her marriage, she gave birth to a son, Billy, on November 4, 1977. After the baby arrived, the young couple found that school, work, and parenthood took their toll. Dale wanted to continue partying with friends, while Michelle taught school during the day and stayed home with the baby at night. With such diverse interests, the marriage disintegrated and they divorced in 1980.

Afterward, Michelle took custody of her three-year-old son, and applied to Louisiana State University Law Center. She was immediately accepted. In law school, she rose to the top 1 percent of her class, automatically qualifying her for the honorary Law Review. In May 1983, she graduated first in a class of 184, and began working for Akin, Gump, Strauss, Hauer & Feld in Dallas. The highly respected law firm had more than one hundred lawyers. It also had offices in New York and Washington, D.C. The “Strauss” in the firm’s name was Robert Strauss, a one-time chairman of the Democratic National Committee who would later become the ambassador to the Soviet Union.

By mid-1984, John Battaglia Jr. needed a few more classes before he could take the CPA tests. The attractive man was the antithesis of an introverted, bespectacled accountant. Instead, he was gregarious around people and could be very charming.

One of his best friends—and roommate—Mark Weisbart, was a bankruptcy attorney at Akin, Gump, Strauss, Hauer & Feld. Weisbart was sure that the pretty blond bankruptcy and estate lawyer with whom he worked, Michelle LaBorde, would enjoy meeting John. She was tall, poised, and possessed a model’s good posture that exuded self-confidence.

Michelle LaBorde was two years older than thirty-year-old John Battaglia, but anyone would have guessed she was much younger, due to her unlined face and pretty brown eyes. Michelle wasn’t just smart; she was brilliant, and it would take someone with a fine intellect to interest her.

Mark Weisbart suggested that Michelle and her fellow lawyer, Kitty O’Connell, join him and John Battaglia for a drink at a local restaurant. Michelle and John were instantly drawn to each other. As soon as she began talking with him, she appreciated his intelligence. He knew a great deal about art, music, and the theater. In fact, she found that he could talk extensively and with authority about many subjects.

They immediately began dating, but before their first date, Michelle wanted to clear the air and let him know that she had a seven-year-old son.

John Battaglia’s face brightened when he heard about Billy. He told her that he loved children. During his four years in the Marines, he had volunteered to help with Special Olympics because he wanted to work with children. He couldn’t wait to meet her son.

Michelle soon realized that of all the things she liked about John Battaglia, she was most impressed with his interest in Billy. When Battaglia brought toy soldiers to Michelle’s two-bedroom, one-bath rental house, Billy was delighted to see him walk through the front door. As John and Billy made the soldiers march up and down the furniture, he told the young boy about his experiences in the Marines. Soon, Michelle began to wonder if Battaglia was more interested in Billy than in her. Michelle had a rule that she wouldn’t leave the house until after 8:00 P.M., when Billy was put to bed. So Battaglia came early before their dates to play with him, and at other times would take just the boy out for pizza.

Billy became very attached to John. The seven-year-old’s father lived in Baton Rouge, and Billy wasn’t seeing him on a regular basis. John took over that role, and the two became very close.

When Michelle and John attended law firm parties, her colleagues would exclaim how lovingly he looked at her. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the new man in her life adored her.

On New Year’s Eve, three months after they began dating, Billy was scheduled to visit his father in Baton Rouge, freeing Michelle for three full days. At the same time, one of her law school friends offered to loan Michelle her New York City apartment on Third Avenue while the friend was visiting relatives in Shreveport.

Michelle and John flew to New York for three romantic days. They bundled up for the crisp, cold weather and strolled down Fifth Avenue, delighted by the spectacular Christmas decorations in all the upscale store windows. They stopped at Rockefeller Center to watch the locals ice skate and were awed by the spectacular jewel-toned lights decorating the tree beside the rink.

The crowded, fast-paced city captivated their imaginations. Yellow taxis streaked by them as they walked the streets deeply inhaling the wafting aroma of freshly baked pretzels.

They made love for the first time, which made the trip all the more special.

Only one incident marred their vacation. Michelle had run across the street to a grocery store, and when she returned, Battaglia was sitting on the bed with a goofy expression on his face.

Michelle looked into eyes that stared blankly at her. She was positive he had taken some kind of drug. But he wouldn’t admit to anything and his behavior appeared normal. Still, Michelle couldn’t get his silly look off her mind.

As the weeks passed, Michelle saw no other indication of drugs, and John seldom drank, so their whirlwind courtship returned to its original happy, and now intimate, state.

In February of 1985, they decided to drive to New Orleans to celebrate Mardi Gras. It was only a forty-five minute drive from Baton Rouge, and Michelle wanted to introduce John to her family.

At five o’clock, he picked her up at her glass-and-granite office building on Pacific Street. Once in his car, she took off her heels and slipped into a pair of loafers she had pulled from her suitcase. He had already been home and changed into jeans and a casual shirt.

They headed east on Interstate 80, through a chain of small Texas towns. They crossed the Louisiana border near Shreveport and drove southeast for several more hours.

At pitch-black midnight, they were nearing Baton Rouge when a car full of teenagers roared past them. No sooner had it passed, then it pulled in front of them and slowed down, causing Battaglia to slam on his brakes. That enraged him, but when the kids flashed a bright floodlight directly into his eyes, he went crazy. It was impossible for him to see the road.

“Those goddamn kids!” he bellowed. “Are they trying to get us both killed?”

In the glow of the light, Michelle could see Battaglia’s face visibly change. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted into a threatening grimace.

He reached down, his right hand fingering the carpeted floor, searching for something.

“What do you want?” Michelle asked

“The duffel bag,” he said as he groped in vain under the seat. “I’ve got a gun in the bag. Get it for me!”

The thought of a gun frightened her. “That’s the last thing you need,” Michelle said, her concern growing. She kept glancing at his face. It was a face she hadn’t seen before. For the first time since she had met him, he looked panic-stricken. His eyes stared wildly and he began yelling at her. “Give me the goddamn duffel!”

As they fought over the bag, Battaglia began weaving across lanes.

“Stop it,” Michelle screamed. “Now you’re going to get us killed!” What’s wrong with him? she asked herself.

As he sped up the car, his driving became more erratic. Michelle was so frightened that she grabbed the duffel and threw it into the backseat. A few moments later, they passed the car full of boys and Battaglia screamed obscenities at them.

When the teenagers’ car was only pinpoint headlights in their rearview mirror, the atmosphere in the car was still heated.

“Why in the world are you bringing a gun?” Michelle asked, her temperature still climbing.

“New Orleans is a dangerous place,” he told her.

“It’ll be a lot more dangerous if you’re carrying a gun!”

She thought she knew him, but this man sitting beside her was a total stranger.

It was almost one in the morning in Baton Rouge when they pulled into the driveway of Michelle’s sister’s house where they would be spending the weekend. One look at Michelle, and her sister could tell that she was upset and asked her what was wrong. Michelle explained about the incident in the car.

The rest of the weekend flew by in a blur for Michelle. She couldn’t erase the craziness of the highway episode, although no further bizarre incidents occurred during the rest of the trip. John Battaglia behaved normally in spite of the loud and colorful Mardi Gras crowds and the parades that covered them with confetti and plastic jewelry.

However, by the time Michelle returned to Dallas, she had made up her mind. She wouldn’t tolerate anyone who had such drastic mood swings and was so scary and unpredictable. No longer would she be seeing John Battaglia.

Then she found out she was pregnant.