Читать книгу Murder In The Heartland - M. William Phelps - Страница 33

As Ben Espey continued to push the MSHP to issue an Amber Alert, he was learning more about Bobbie Jo’s murder. The ligature marks on her throat, doctors indicated, proved “she had been strangled from behind.” Also, many of the postmortem tests conducted on Bobbie Jo’s body pointed toward Espey’s earlier assumption of her being “…dead at the house.”

These corroborations were significant for several reasons. The fact that the Stinnett home had shown no signs of forced entry seemed to indicate that, although Bobbie Jo might not have known her killer, she trusted her enough to turn her back to her. In addition, it appeared that whoever had extracted the child knew what she was doing. The Cesarean section—if what was done could be called that—had to be carried out quickly, or the child could suffer permanent damage. With the results from the hospital, Espey knew for certain the baby, not Bobbie Jo, was the target of the attack.

Ben Espey hoped for helpful information from one other piece of evidence taken from the crime scene by St. Joseph PD CSI technicians: Bobbie Jo’s computer. It was being examined as Espey continued to run the investigation from the basement of his office.

Today, more than any other time in law enforcement history, electronics—cell phones, iPods, laptops and personal computers—are among the first pieces of evidence collected at crime scenes. Most electrical devices contain information that can lead to arrests, and—as Ben Espey was about to learn—the Bobbie Jo Stinnett murder case would be no exception.

With two children of his own, two grandchildren, cousins, and kids around him his entire life, Sheriff Ben Espey was fighting exhaustion, fatigue, fear of not finding the baby in time, and concerns about what might have happened to the child. But, as the evening hours wore on, the bureaucracy involved in issuing the Amber Alert ate at him most.

Finding Bobbie Jo’s child was more than just a job for Espey. He was a family man. He raised horses and cattle, farmed hundreds of acres. But the most pleasurable part of his life, he explained, was just being around his family, which included a new grandchild. His wife worked up the street from his office. On most days, they ate lunch together; took long walks, hand in hand, on his property; and rode horseback. (“The best friend I ever had,” he recalled.) Espey felt lucky. Grateful. He had what Zeb Stinnett would never have. Yet he could give back to Zeb the one thing that might help the man get through the toughest days of his life ahead.

His infant daughter.

Each time he explained to the higher-ups why issuing the Amber Alert was probably one of the only chances they had of finding her alive, his pleas were met with a resounding no. Although many agreed with Espey’s stance, no one, it seemed, wanted to stick his or her neck out to make it happen. There just wasn’t enough information to send out the alert, Espey was told again and again. An Amber Alert could not be issued for a “fetus.”