Doc: The Rape of the Town of Lovell (56 page)

Deputy Sheriff Jack Doolan, armed and uniformed, met the caravan in the parking lot and escorted Doc, Marilyn, their older daughter Susan, and Wayne Aarestad through the side door. Rex had arranged for Doc to be protected after the verdict was read. The Story people planned to double back to the Lovell Bible Church for prayers and exultation. A full house was expected.

When they entered the courtroom, they saw that the accuser's side was almost vacant. "Those turkeys were tipped off to the verdict," Rex whispered.

"Is that a good sign for us?" Cheri asked.

"Sure. Wouldn't they be here if they'd won?"

Cheri wasn't so sure. The light in the windows had changed to a sickly yellow green. She wondered if it was the final rays of the afternoon sun sifting through the trees or a trick of her imagination. It looked so . . . bilious. More supporters filed in, smiling and humming hymns. She wished she didn't feel so bad.

"Okay," the judge said to the group in his chamber. "You're all armed, right?"

Judi Cashel touched the small of her back, where her .380 five-shot revolver pressed against her business-suit jacket. It was a popgun, barely effective against ground squirrels, but she'd left her regular weapon home in Casper.

Judge Hartman's chambers were crowded with lawmen, mostly Big Horn County deputies, and the unrobed judge was telling them how to deploy.

Judi had been down the street at the restaurant with Dave Wilcock and Terry Tharp and a few others when the call had come in. Like most of the others, she'd already concluded that the jury would hang and that would be the end of it. Everyone was convinced that the victims would refuse to testify at a second trial. Tonight most of them were attending their regular support group meeting up in Lovell. Judi wondered if she should alert them by phone when the verdict came in. If Story were cleared, they'd be more upset than ever. But if he were found guilty—well, some of his supporters were dangerous, and it might be wise for the victims to drive straight home.

The shirt-sleeved judge was saying. "The jurors from the north end have requested armed escorts home." Judi's heart leaped. She thought, The jury's certainly not afraid of our side. We're not the ones who've been frothing at the mouth. Why are they asking for protection? She tried not to get her hopes up.

As she took her assigned position in the rear of the courtroom, she felt the hostile stares. Every seat on the right was taken, but the left was empty except for social workers and a few unknowns.

The jurors trooped into their box. Most of the ten women and two men looked haggard. Judi's ears picked up an undercurrent of sound from the right side of the aisle and realized that the Story people were humming a hymn.

"Good evening," Judge Hartman said calmly. "Please be seated." She wondered how he could sound so cool. In chambers, she'd watched him slip a pistol under his robes. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," he said, "have you elected a foreman or reached a verdict in this matter?"

The courtroom was silent as one of the women handed a slip of paper to clerk Bernice Argento. She passed it up to Judge Hart-man, who perused it without changing expression, handed it back and said, "I would ask that the defendant please stand at this time while the clerk reads the verdict."

Judi watched as Story stood up. He looked so tiny. He claimed to be five-six, but when she'd stood next to him he hadn't looked much taller than her own five-two. She wondered if his runtiness had helped to fuel his anger and his crimes. Men had raped for stranger reasons.

The clerk's voice barely carried to the rear of the room. Judi caught the name "Durtsche" and then . . . "not guilty." She began to feel sick. Get it together, she told herself. No matter what happens, you're gonna walk out of here with your head held high.

Then one word soared above the others. There was no mistaking it. She heard it several more times before the wailing began.

At first, Rex Nebel wanted to fall to his knees in praise of God, but when the clerk came to the Emma Lu Meeks assault count and called out "guilty," he felt as if he'd been in another motorcycle crash. He heard Doc say a soft, "Oh, no," and watched as his small shoulders seemed to sag. Rex wanted to vault over the rail and drag him away. A few seats away, Marilyn and Susan embraced and cried.

He barely heard the remaining verdicts: guilty of first-degree rape against Mae Fischer and Terri Timmons, guilty of assault and battery with intent to commit rape against Wanda Hammond, Hayla Farwell and Annella St. Thomas, not guilty in the cases of Julia Bradbury and Emma McNeil.

The judge made Doc stand up again, and Wayne stood with him. "John Story," he said, "based on the verdict of guilty of these counts in this matter at this time, it is the order of this Court that you be taken to the Wyoming State Hospital in Evanston, Wyoming, and there be given a mental and physical examination by two disinterested and reputable and legally qualified physicians, one of whom shall be an expert in the field of psychology. . .

He ordered Doc jailed pending a presentencing investigation, and instructed the spectators to remain in place for five minutes "until Mr. Story has been removed from the courtroom."

Rex wished he could get his hands around the judge's neck.

"Mister
Story." What stupidity! All the kangaroo courts in the world couldn't change Doc into a mister.

Cheri Nebel shuffled toward the front of the courtroom like a sleepwalker. A red-faced Wayne Aarestad was leaning forward, his head down, his palms flat on the tabletop. He seemed compressed, squeezed, like a bull in a chute. His clear blue eyes looked flat and dazed. As far as Cheri could see, he wasn't even breathing.

Marilyn hugged Doc, then Cheri. "Justice?" Marilyn asked in a choking voice. "Where's justice?"

Doc managed a faint smile as one of his patients pinned a flower on his gray suit.

Rex held himself together till the last deputy had left the courtroom. The other spectators milled around, looking confused, forlorn. He opened the gate and marched up to the judge's bench. "The only rape that's happened in this county," he yelled, "is right here in this courtroom!" He spat a wad of Skol across the polished wood.

"Look at this!" he yelled, pointing to the left side of the courtroom. "Empty! Doesn't that tell you people anything?"

He stomped the floor and kicked the air. The judge was gone, but the clerk backed away and the court reporter grabbed for his machine. "This is a travesty of justice!" Rex called out.

He turned to the press row and said, "Can't you guys see what happened here?"

The journalists looked cowed.
"You!"
he snapped at a male reporter. "You had your nose in a slant from the first day! Wherever that Casper paper pointed, you stuck your nose in the same shit and went right with it."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a TV reporter hugging the wall. The look in her eyes made him feel better.

Then he saw Jan Hillman holding her oversize glasses and rubbing her eyes. She'd been Doc's most effective defender. While others were wringing their hands, Jan and her mother had been risking their necks for Doc. Rex hated to watch this strong woman cry.

Someone took his arm and steered him into the hall. He felt as though he'd let down his church and his friends and his principles. He wished he could take Doc's place in the cell tonight. Behind him in the courtroom, a voice moaned in prayer.

Impromptu press conferences broke out The Reverend Ken Buttermore said, "When all's said and done, God will get the glory, you watch. Lovell hasn't seen anything yet."

Wayne Aarestad told a reporter, "It was completely unexpected, and we will appeal." He said he doubted that his client would ever see the inside of a penitentiary.

Terry Tharp praised the jurors for having "a lot of guts."

Joe Brown asked someone a question and was referred to the prosecutor, standing nearby. "I won't talk to that man," the hospital manager said.

Cheri Nebel stumbled out on the front lawn to clear the stench of corruption from her nose. A cast-iron sky seemed to push down and flatten the unjust little town. Peaks and valleys had vanished for the night. Just as Marilyn walked through the side door, a meteor flashed across the Big Horns. For three or four seconds its phosphorescent tail lit up the ridge. To Cheri it had the same sinister quality as the bilious light in the courtroom.

"If Satan had fireworks," she said to her dear suffering friend, "they'd look like that."

"What a terrible blow!" Marilyn wrote in her journal. "We are all in total shock. None of the accusers were there which proves they knew what the verdict was before we did, AGAIN! Lord, what is your plan?"

83

FALLOUT

The next morning, Terri Timmons asked Loyd for the morning paper. The last word the previous night had been a brief call to the support group from the Lovell P.D., reporting that Story had been found guilty on some counts but not all. She'd gone to sleep convinced that her case was a loser.

Loyd perused the Friday paper and broke into a big smile. "There were only two guilties on forcible rape," he told her. "You and Mae. The rest were assault and stuff like that."

Terri started crying. "They believed me!" she said. "I can't believe it.
They believed me!"
It seemed the biggest miracle of all. She wasn't accustomed to being listened to, let alone believed. Loyd held her close and stroked her gypsy shag.

When she calmed down, they had a little talk and decided it might be wise to keep the kids home for a while.

Aletha Durtsche had mixed feelings about the not-guilty verdict on her count. She kept telling herself that she'd helped accomplish the important aim: an evil man was going to prison.

When her children's school called late in the morning, she had an idea what it was about. In the last few days, some of the Story people had turned vicious. Diana Harrison's daughter had gone home after one of her schoolmates said, "Your mother's a sperm-sniffer!" and others chanted the ugly word. There'd been a few fights, plus some pushing and shoving.

This morning the school reported that the Durtsche child wasn't seriously injured. She'd been hit over the head with a book, then flung down a staircase. Mike brought her home and they decided to keep her out for a few days.

One of Wanda Hammond's first checkout customers was the florist, Beverly Moody. The poor woman looked as though she'd cried all night. Wanda thought, Why can't she just accept the truth so we can be friends again?

"Wanda," the sturdily built woman muttered, "one of these days you're gonna pay for what you done. The Lord is gonna take care of Doc and you're gonna be reliable for the rest of your life."

Wanda swiped at the "total" key and missed. "Yes, I know," she said as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "The Lord'll take care of him."

When her shift ended, she rushed down Main Street to keep an appointment with Bishop Hawley in his office. She wanted someone in her church to confirm that she wasn't an evil person-

Bob Hawley was the swimming pool janitor at the school and popular with everyone. "Wanda," he said, "you did no wrong. Don't let those people bother you." The little round woman thought, Why, those are the only kind words I've heard!

Arden McArthur fed her two remaining schoolboys and told them to wait in front on their bikes. She'd already discussed the verdict with Meg and Minda. "He tightened the noose around his own neck," Arden told them. "Remember how we just wanted him helped? And he wouldn't admit he needed it?" The three McArthur women had agreed that true judgment would come later, not only for Story but for everyone.

When Mel and Marc were ready, Arden climbed on her bike and rode majestically ahead of them toward school. A driver swerved close and raised his finger. You just go right ahead, mister, she said under her breath. That's what I'm here for.

At noon, Rex Nebel still paced his yard. He'd been watching the highway, looking for the accusers or anyone else who'd spoken against Doc. Tears wet his beard. He and Cheri had cried all night, and he wasn't a man who cried.

When he recognized Gerald BrinkerhofFs truck, he ran out on the shoulder and shook his fist. "Pull over here!" he yelled. "I want to talk to you!"

The pickup sped past. "Hey, come back!" Rex yelled.
"Hey!"
He kicked a fence post. He wanted to beat somebody to death.

A few hours later, the phone rang in the pastor's study at the Lovell Bible Church. The caller was Deputy Sheriff Billy Joe Dobbs, and he needed to see Ken Buttermore right now.

At the sheriffs substation, Dobbs began, "I don't know quite how to tell you this."

"Let me have it," the preacher said. He was a former railroad worker, broad-shouldered and hard to intimidate.

"The sheriff says I'm to inform you and Rex Nebel and Joe Brown that you've been deemed potentially dangerous persons. He says if anything happens to any of these victims, you'll be in the same situation as Doc Story."

"Let me get this straight," the preacher said with less reticence than the lawman. "Are you telling me that without any witnesses, without any evidence, you'll throw me in jail?"

"I'm only telling you what I was told."

Buttermore left shaking his head. Later he learned that someone had called Mae Fischer at three in the morning and said, "This is Ken Buttermore. I'm gonna get you."