Mommy's Little Girl (16 page)

 

Cindy and Caylee took a swim in the pool after returning home. When they finished, Cindy removed the ladder and locked the gate. Cindy confronted Casey that evening, slapping down one photo after another that she'd printed off the Internet—shots of Casey at the no-clothes party. “You're at work? Huh? I watched Caylee that night so that you could go to work.” She told Casey she was an unfit mother and threatened to obtain custody of Caylee.

According to the story Lee shared with a friend, the fight had escalated from screaming into physical confrontation. Cindy, he claimed, had wrapped her hands around Casey's throat and squeezed.

 

On June 16, at 12:50 in the afternoon, Casey sat down in a La-Z-Boy recliner next to her father. “Hey, I'm gonna be working a little late. Caylee's gonna be staying with the Nanny. I'll see you and Mom tomorrow afternoon. I've already talked to Mom. Mom knows I'm gonna be staying over.”

“Okay, just be careful and . . .” George said.

Casey cut him off. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Wearing a pair of gray pin-striped slacks and an off-white
top, she walked out of the house with her daughter. Caylee looked adorable that day, dressed in a blue jean skirt, a pink top and a pair of white sunglasses. Her hair was pulled back in a perky ponytail and she wore a white knapsack, decorated with monkeys, on her back.

It was a memorable impression of the little girl. Unfortunately, it was the last time George ever saw his granddaughter—the brightest light in his trouble-ridden life.

“The truth does not change according
to our ability to stomach it.”

—Flannery O'Connor

A Note to the Reader

 

Under United States law, a person is presumed innocent until proven guilty, and Casey Anthony has yet to be tried by a jury of her peers. What follows is merely the author's recreation of what
might
have happened,
if
the charges against Casey are true. This recreation is based on the author's analysis of the law enforcement forensic evidence, the medical examiner's autopsy report, and other available information. Casey Anthony's movements during the critical period were documented by the pings from her cell phone. Time frames are estimates, based on evidence and interview statements.

 

After Casey left her parents' home with Caylee on Monday, June 16, 2008, she hovered around the neighborhood as she waited for her father to leave for work.

She returned to 4937 Hopespring Drive when the house was empty. Caylee raced to her bedroom and changed into a pair of striped shorts and a tee shirt proclaiming: “Big trouble comes in small packages.”

The police found evidence that three months earlier, someone using Casey's computer had conducted internet searches for chloroform recipes. Police believed that person was Casey, and now was the time to put that knowledge to use. Assembling the materials needed would not have been difficult—pool chlorinator, a bottle of acetone, a glass
container, and lots of ice. She would have also needed an abundance of caution to avoid inhaling any of the escaping vapors.

When the process was complete, it would have been easy to persuade Caylee to inhale the sweet-smelling fumes. It would not have taken many whiffs to render the small girl-child unconscious. When she was out and unable to defend herself, multiple layers of duct tape were wrapped around the little girl's mouth and nose and into her hair to ensure that she never awoke from her chemically induced sleep.

Law enforcement suspected Casey carried the limp body to the bedroom where the red heart sticker was placed on the tape over her daughter's mouth. Then, Caylee was wrapped in her Winnie the Pooh blanket, slid into a waterproofed canvas bag and stuffed into a black plastic garbage bag.

Then, in this scenario, she carried the delicate bundle out to her car and placed it in the trunk. Mission accomplished, she drove to Tony Lazzaro's apartment, where Tony would have been unaware of Casey's actions or of Caylee's whereabouts.

Ironically, records indicate that the couple went to Blockbuster that evening and rented two videos:
Jumper
, about a 5-year-old child abandoned by her mother, who masters teleportation; and
Untraceable
, about a kidnapper and killer. Casey remained at Tony's all night.

Casey drove back to her parents' empty house on Tuesday. Normally, Casey pulled straight into the driveway and parked outside of the garage. On this day, she backed in, raised the automatic door and parked with the rear-half of the Buick hidden from view inside the garage.

Neighbor Brian Burner was in his freshly mowed front yard, clearing clippings and other debris with a leaf blower. Casey approached him at about 1:30. “I can't find the key to the shed, and I need to dig up a bamboo root I've been tripping over. Do you have a shovel I could borrow?” she reportedly asked.

Brian handed her a round-bladed shovel with a rubber grip. She stepped into her parents' garage, disappearing from his view. At that point, it was suspected that she carried the garbage bag from the trunk into the backyard, looking for a place to bury her daughter, setting the bundle down in three different locations—next to the playhouse, near the screened patio porch and at a spot behind the swimming pool.

At the latter location, evidence indicated that someone started to dig a twelve-inch-wide hole, but quit after achieving a depth of five inches and covered up the effort. The backyard no longer seemed a viable option. The garbage bag went back into the trunk, and the lid slammed shut. Casey walked over to the Burners' home, knocked on the front door and returned the borrowed shovel. Brian noticed nothing amiss—no strangeness in Casey's behavior, no dirt on her shorts or sports bra.

Casey drove around looking for other disposal options. Cell phone pings tracked her meandering through a remote spot near the airport. And also showed her travelling to a sparsely populated area in the vicinity of the University of Central Florida.

Casey spent that night and the next day at Tony's apartment. On Thursday, June 19, according to the authorities, she went out on another scouting mission. She roamed around Blanchard Park and Little Econ Park. She was running out of time.

In the sweltering heat of a Central Florida summer, the smell in the car would have become unbearable. Documents indicated that no later than June 26, she settled on a location within her comfort zone. She stopped at the woods of scrub pine, red maple, saw palmetto, wax myrtle and heavy undergrowth less than a mile from her parents' house—the same overgrown area she'd frequented with her friends in middle school.

She must have held her breath as she lifted the foul-smelling bundle out of the trunk of her car. She carried it a little ways into the woods, dumping it into a patch of
fern, ground cover and fallen leaves, where poison ivy and air potato vines snaked across the ground and embraced tree trunks in their effort to stretch out of the gloom and toward the sun.

If the pending charges are true, Casey then turned and walked away, leaving behind the remains of her child, her flesh and blood—the beloved granddaughter that George and Cindy Anthony would never again see.

During that dark week, Casey showed few signs to her friends and family of being emotionally impacted by the fate of her daughter. On Tuesday, she posted a message on Amy's Facebook page! “Cheer me up lady. I love you and can't wait to finally get you moved in.”

One night, she stopped by Christopher's house shortly after 7
P.M.
She was driving a dark-colored Jeep Cherokee with New York plates. She told Christopher that her car had broken down and she was borrowing a friend's.

She greeted his mom, who was working out on her new treadmill for the first time. Casey and Christopher then watched television and chatted. She seemed happy, but said that she was a bit depressed about her parents splitting up. Her dad, she said, was cheating on her mom. Her mom, she said, explained about the divorce and told her, “We're going to be together and Dad's going to be out of our life.”

Casey also said that she was buying a house at a subdivision near the dump on Curry Ford Road. It would be a home for her and Caylee, but her mom was helping her pick it out. She blew off $250,000 as a cheap price to pay for a home.

She also told Christopher that she had a strong relationship with her mom, but not so much with her dad. He wanted to get too involved in her life, she said, pushing his beliefs on her, telling her how she should act and insisting that she worked.

Casey made herself at home in Tony's place to the delight of his temporary roommate, Nate Lezniewicz. He and Tony were in school full-time, bopping in and out of the apartment between classes. Casey always seemed to be smiling and happy. But better than that, she kept the house in order, did the laundry and often cooked dinner. Nathan told Tony, “Don't screw this up. I'm eating better than I have in a few months.”

Despite the fact that Casey seemed to be there every day, all day, Nathan, Tony and the other roommate, Cameron Campina, all thought she was employed by Universal as an event planner. Casey's answer to any questions was simple: her boss allowed her to work from home. They accepted that explanation. And besides, Casey brought home bags of groceries from time to time. She'd have to have a job to do that.

Caylee had been a frequent visitor at the apartment the first half of June. Nate thought Caylee was a “very sweet, very smart” girl who was fun to have around. He often sat with her watching her favorite shows,
The Pink Panther
and
Dora the Explorer
. Caylee amazed him with her ability to count to 45 in Spanish—something she'd learned from Dora.

At times, Nathan and Caylee played a little game with his laptop. He'd call out a letter and she'd hit the key, getting it right almost every time. Caylee's favorite phrase cracked him up: She'd say “What's up, dude?” every time someone entered the apartment.

One afternoon when he and Cameron took a nap in the living room, Caylee pulled out Tony's drum pad and a pair of drumsticks. She woke them up, pounding out a beat and chanting, “Wake up, Nate. Wake up, Cam.”

But her presence disappeared in the middle of that month. Nathan teased Casey about Caylee's absence. “I'm beginning to think you don't have a child. Where is she? How come we haven't seen her around?”

Every time the subject came up, Casey greeted it with
a chuckle. “Oh, she's at Disney World with the nanny”—Or at Cocoa Beach or the Universal theme park. She explained that there were problems and constant fighting at her parents' home. She said she didn't want Caylee subjected to that environment. While she was here, she claimed, Caylee was with the nanny. Life at the apartment with three single guys often got a bit too rowdy for a 2-year-old girl.

Casey was right about that. There were lots of late nights with partying both in the apartment and out at clubs. Initially, according to Tony and his roommates, Casey had been reluctant to use marijuana. The guys teased and coaxed her with a chorus of “Come on, Casey,” and “Hit this bowl.”

Casey always gave in and took a toke. Soon, it was a nightly habit and Casey needed no persuasion. She wasn't a typical user, though. It took very little to get her high. Tony described her as “giggly and happy” when she smoked, though he was quick to add, “She's been happy the entire time she's been here.”

 

On the morning of June 19, Casey called high school acquaintance Matthew Crisp to find out if he still leased apartments. Her boyfriend, she said, wanted to break his lease and find a new apartment. Matthew said that he was still in the business and asked her to come by.

She came by with Tony, upbeat and full of smiles. Matthew showed an apartment to Tony and he liked what he saw. As they were leaving, Casey gave Matthew a hug—a very tight hug, to Matthew's surprise.

 

John Azzilanna and Teddy Pieper, students and club photographers, worked at Fusian on Friday night, June 20, after midnight, shooting pictures until the club closed at 2
A.M.
One of their subjects was Casey, who was wearing a blue dress. She seemed happy. She seemed all about having a good time. Just a typical clubber—without a care in the world.

The only thing that struck Cameron as odd were Casey's cell phone calls. Any time her phone rang, Casey stepped outside. He'd watch her pace around in the grass behind the apartment. Although he didn't know it, many of those calls were from Casey's mother asking about Caylee.

While Casey partied, her parents suffered. Cindy called constantly begging to see her granddaughter. Casey's excuses never ended—they were in Tampa, they were in Jacksonville. She promised to come home one Monday, but when that day arrived, she called and said the nanny had been in an accident and was now in Tampa General Hospital being treated for a concussion. Casey, her girlfriends and the kids were staying at the hotel in Tampa until Zanny's family arrived.