Читать книгу Because You Loved Me - M. William Phelps - Страница 29

Billy and Nicole arrived at the house somewhere near 10:15 P.M. The scene was still bustling with people, crime scene investigators and plainclothes detectives. Facts were becoming clearer as the investigation progressed, but investigators were still scratching their heads wondering how a woman of Jeanne’s stature could have ended up dead on her kitchen floor. The surreal ambience that hung in the air all evening, as community members stood stunned, wondering how such violence could take place in an otherwise unassuming neighborhood, seemed to grow as rumor and speculation fueled conversation.

“The whole thing is unbelievable,” truck driver Douglas Milroy, shaking his head in disbelief, told a Nashua Telegraph reporter as he looked on. Milroy lived down the street from Jeanne near the corner of Dumaine and Deerwood. He had watched Nicole and Drew grow up. “It’s like a Sunday-night movie.”

Parker Smith was standing in the street in front of Jeanne’s when he recognized Billy’s car “creeping” its way up the opposite end of Dumaine. Jeanne’s house was close to the corner of Dumaine Avenue and Amherst Street, Route 101A, the main drag running off Route 3. Police had Dumaine blocked from Amherst. Just east of Dumaine, about one city block, was the corner of Deerwood Drive and Amherst, where the 7-Eleven convenience store sat across the street. Standing in Jeanne’s backyard, you could see the 7-Eleven and the bank. Billy had obviously, Parker assumed, driven by the roadblock, turned right on Deerwood and connected with Dumaine on the back end.

“He was driving slowly,” recalled Parker. “I saw him and Nicole coming up the road from the opposite side.”

Nicole’s window was down. As Billy moved his car closer to the house, Parker said several police officers stood in front of the car with their hands up, motioning for Billy to stop.

“Hold on…,” said one officer. “Stop!”

Then, according to Parker, several officers rushed to each side of the vehicle as Nicole and Billy got out of the car.

“What’s going on?” asked Nicole.

(“Pardon the expression, but it was like deathly quiet at that moment,” remembered Parker. “At that point, I didn’t know what to think—if they were going to tell her right there or not.”)

Most who knew Nicole and Jeanne were concerned for Nicole and wondered how she was going to react to what had occurred.

Officers quickly surrounded the two lovers after they got out of Billy’s car.

“Who are you?” asked an officer.

“Nicole…why? What’s going on here?” She seemed surprised by the commotion. Concerned. Worried.

Detective Denis Linehan, who had partially questioned Chris McGowan, had left Chris with Detective Mark Schaaf at the NPD and returned to the scene shortly before Billy and Nicole arrived. While Linehan was talking to Assistant Deputy Medical Examiner (ME) Wayne DiGeronimo, he noticed Billy and Nicole, though not by name or sight, talking to uniformed officers by Billy’s car.

“Give me one minute,” Linehan said to DiGeronimo. From where he stood, Linehan noticed the license plate on Billy’s car.

Connecticut?

Then he recalled how Chris had told him that Nicole’s boyfriend was from Connecticut.

As Linehan walked over, Billy spoke to an officer on the opposite side of the car and explained that he lived out of state.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“What’s going on?” Linehan asked as he approached.

“That’s my girlfriend,” Billy stated.

Billy was pacing, Linehan said later, “back and forth between his vehicle and [a cruiser nearby].” He was so squirrelly that Linehan, at one point, said, “Try to relax, man, best you can.”

“I take medication for high anxiety,” Billy offered. “Sorry, but I can’t stand still.”

“You’re going to have to come down to the police station and give us a statement,” one of the officers told Billy.

Billy said he’d have no trouble doing that.

About ten feet away, another cop explained the same thing to Nicole.

From there, Nicole and Billy were separated and moved to the “edge of the crime scene.”

Detective Sergeant Richard Sprankle then conferred with one of the officers and explained what to do next. “Separate them and transport them in different vehicles.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was important to get separate stories.

After Billy and Nicole gave each other a quick peck on the lips, they were separated and watched. It was standard NPD practice to transport witnesses to the station house in police vehicles. It didn’t mean you were being viewed or targeted as a suspect, said one law enforcement official, but NPD’s policy dictated that witnesses shouldn’t be allowed the opportunity to change their mind and drive away while en route to the NPD. Still, if a witness is adamant about driving to the station house alone, there is no law preventing the NPD from allowing it.

“I need to lock up my car and turn off the lights,” Billy said to the officer escorting him around the scene.

“Sure.”

When they returned, the officer stood with Billy by the cruiser and chatted a bit.

“His mood would change,” the officer noted later, “from being jovial to being agitated. He was extremely talkative and constantly pacing back and forth.”

“I’m going to be sick,” Billy said. He walked toward the back of the car and, dry-heaving, began hacking.

Noticing what was going on, Detective Linehan, going back and forth between the crime scene and where Billy and Nicole stood, walked over and spoke with the officer. When Billy saw them talking privately, he became excited again and asked, “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“Relax,” said Linehan. “Come on. Relax as best you can.”

“Sorry,” said Billy, “It’s my anxiety—” He said he needed to take his meds.

“Let’s get you out of here then. Would you mind coming downtown and giving us a statement?”

“Can’t I go with Nicole?”

“Sorry, Mr. Sullivan, we can’t do that.”

“OK, then.”

“Do you need your medication?”

“I take it at night.”

“OK.”

Later, Billy said it was at that moment when he began to break down. He thought, I’m screwed. Something’s wrong—otherwise they would let me get in the car with Nicole.

This move by Linehan to get Billy and Nicole downtown, later scrutinized, was not unusual. Many people in the neighborhood were being brought in to give statements. Husbands and wives were not allowed to ride together. Standard procedure. There was a brutal murder scene inside a home on Dumaine Avenue. Heck, Jeanne Dominico’s body was still on the floor of her kitchen (where it would stay for about the next twenty-four hours). What people said and the differences in their stories were vital parts of the investigation. Good investigators knew the slightest discrepancy in statements, although not pointing specifically to guilt, could ultimately solve a case.

Linehan got into the backseat of the cruiser with Billy. Another officer drove. It was about 10:30 P.M.

“We’re heading out,” Linehan told Sprankle.

As they drove, Linehan asked Billy, “So how long have you and Nicole been together?”

Billy seemed uncomfortable, antsy. “Fifteen months.”

“How’d you guys meet?”

Casual conversation. Linehan wasn’t fishing; he just wanted basic facts. Billy was under no obligation to answer.

“A mutual friend,” said Billy. It was a lie; they had met in a chat room on the Internet.

For the next few minutes, they discussed where Billy was from and the town of Willimantic itself. Billy seemed quite captivated by the town’s recent popularity.

“The town was featured on a TV program; you know that?” asked Billy.

“Actually,” Linehan said, “I saw it.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Bad publicity for the town, though, huh?”

The program had depicted the town of Willimantic as a haven for drug use, especially heroin.

Billy said, “Me and some of my classmates have tried to boost the town’s reputation.”

“Well, you do what you can, you know.”

“Yeah,” Billy said.