Mommy's Little Girl (31 page)

Cain walked out of the woods and Cutcher asked, “What's going on?”

Cain said, “Oh, it's nothing. It was just a bag of trash.” He turned to Roy and argued that the remains would not be skeletal yet. Then he said, “You're just wasting the county's time.”

On August 12, crime-scene investigators were gathered at another location 16 miles from the Anthony home to a brush line bordering a lake. They collected potential evidence—a faded pink baseball cap emblazoned with “V.I.P. Very Important Princess,” along with the dirt and debris found with it. The next day, they brought out cadaver dog Gerus to search the scene. He did not alert to anything.

Detective Appie Wells met with Kiomarie Torres Cruz at the wooded area near Hidden Oaks Elementary School. From this interview, another piece of confusion entered the case. Kiomarie told the investigator about hearing a child in the background when she'd had a conversation with Casey Anthony on July 9. It turned out that Kiomarie was mistaken—she'd actually received a call from another Casey, and was confused about the source.

Kiomarie, however, provided new insight into the suspect. She said that Casey was a nice girl except for when she drank, “but I have a very strong feeling she is bipolar . . . She has called me before, back in the day, I remember after she had the baby, when we were actually talking a lot . . .

“She would call, ask me a couple of questions and then call back the next day and I'd have the answers to the questions. She's like, ‘I never asked you that.' ”

Detective Wells probed further, “She wasn't just trying to trip you up?”

“This is what drives me insane, because Casey was never like this when we were in high school or middle school. She was perfectly fine, and it was after she had the baby when the issue started. I mean, the boyfriends—I don't want to get started on that. I cannot keep track of who she was dating and who she was with.”

“Okay.”

“I know what she would do in spite of her mother, because her mother did—I don't know how you say it—but push her really, really hard, like, to do the right things.”

“Right. She had a lot of high expectations.”

“To be the perfect all-American girl.” Kiomarie continued, “. . . her mother does not like Hispanic people, and most of the guys she was with were either Hispanic or of a different race.”

 

Rick sent an email to his mother, describing his exchange with Cindy, and said he'd forward it all to her to read.

I did my best to talk some sense into her but to no avail . . . When the facts are known, Cindy will have to face them. Right now she is in denial.

Shirley wrote back to her son:

I read all the letters. I agree with most of what you said. I know she won't believe any of us until she sees that little body or Casey says where she's at.

I made her upset with the last note that I wrote . . . George told a reporter that he lost his job, so now his job is to drive Caylee's billboard around. I'm asking where he got money for gas.

. . . I'm afraid Cindy will mess around and lose her job. Maybe she will lose her credibility and they might not want her back. She should go back
to work and let the police handle it from here. But, she won't.

Rick replied to his mother:

. . . How can they possibly believe a lying snot that has never told the truth? How can they not see that all of Casey's actions are not of someone that cares that Caylee is missing? . . . She is guilty as hell, Mom. Cindy and George . . . need to blame themselves for enabling Casey to steal and lie and get away with it. They created her and bought in to all her lies and excuses for way too long. They are still doing it. It absolutely amazes me. They both need to get counseling before they go off the deep end, but I think they already have lost their minds.

Fired up after communicating with his mother, Rick tried one more time to batter through Cindy's shell of denial:

You guys need to quit making statements on TV. You have both lost your minds. People want to hurt you for being so stupid. Casey could give a rat's ass about Caylee. Her boyfriend can't even stand her for what she did. There was no kidnapping and you know it. This charade has gone on long enough. How could you believe a ridiculous story like this? You guys look like the stupidest people on the planet. The more George opens his mouth, the more asinine he sounds. You guys need counseling right away.

After the police spoke today and said that there is not one speck of evidence that points to a kidnapping, you said something really stupid. You said that since Casey does not have Caylee then she must have been kidnapped.

Cindy, Caylee is dead. Casey will lie to her own grave. Bet on it. She is a sociopath and cannot tell the truth. Caylee may have died in an accident but Casey will lie to the end.

You just need to quit talking to the media. You are not helping your cause. People that used to sympathize with you now hate you for being so ignorant. I have to be blunt because you aren't listening to the facts here. There is no supporting evidence to Casey's story. NONE.

She is going to prison for a long time and there is nothing anyone can do. You probably hate me but deep down you know I am right . . . Please get some counseling before it is too late. I didn't want to meddle in your business, but this is way too important to let go. You guys need help. Mom thinks so, too. Please come back to reality.

Rick did not hear back from his sister for six long days.

Casey cancelled two scheduled visits with her brother Lee, but, on August 14, she agreed to meet with her parents. Reporters jostled George and Cindy Anthony as they approached the jail. The Anthonys were in no mood for the media. George said, “You don't want to be knocked down, get out of my way. I'm done with you guys. Leave me alone. Do not come past here. Please, do not come past here. Out of respect for these other people, for a change. Honor them.”

A reporter shouted, “Do you have anything to say about the new theory that Caylee might be dead and it might be an accident?”

Cindy snapped, “Frickin' quit publicizing that stuff! She's out there!”

George screamed, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Leave us alone, please. Do not follow us in the gates. Do not bother us when we're standing in line. Let's go. Let us go. Let's go.”

His anger contrasted with the message on the matching tee shirts worn by George and Cindy. The Never Lose Hope Foundation had made them for the couple with a butterfly and the message “Fly Home Baby. We Miss You!”

They entered the visitation area and sat in uncomfortable chairs. On the video monitor, Casey smiled and greeted her parents. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, beautiful. I love you.”

“Hi. I love you, too,” Casey responded.

Cindy threw her hands over her mouth trying to quell her sobs.

“Why is she crying already?” Casey sneered.

“Because we haven't seen you,” George said. “How's your day going so far?”

“I was asleep,” Casey said rubbing her eyes. “It's okay. I got up at five and stayed awake for about an hour and went to bed for a little bit. So my eyes are red. I'm a little tired.”

“So what else is going on with you?” George asked.

“Nothing,” Casey said with a laugh. “The usual. Just waiting around.” Casey asked about their tee shirts and told her father that she liked them.

George handed the phone to his wife. Cindy choked on her words as she said, “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom,” Casey said and wiped at her eyes. Laughing, she said, “Well I lasted a minute. How are you feeling?”

“Not—We're not doing well, Case,” Cindy cried. “None of us. Lee's been sick. Dad's boiling up at the media.”

“I heard,” Casey snickered.

Cindy's face screwed up with pain. “Someone just said that Caylee was dead this morning—that she drowned in the pool. That's the newest news out there.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

“It's very hard,” Cindy sniffled.

“Yeah, I know,” Casey said, her voice turning harsh. “Trust me, I know that. Someone just sent me some of the stuff on line—the comments that people have been leaving, blogs—articles, I guess, that people have been writing. It was very upsetting last night to see that.”

“You know, it's terrible, Casey. We get hate mail, threatening letters.”

“Well, I haven't gotten anything like that, thankfully. All the letters I've gotten are positive . . .”

“We need to have something to go on,” Cindy pleaded.

Casey widened her eyes and flared her nostrils. With a toss of her hair, she snapped, “Mom, I don't have anything.
I'm sorry. I've been here a month. I've been here a month today. Do you understand how
I
feel? I mean, do you really understand how
I
feel in this? I'm completely, completely out of the loop with everything. The only information I get is when I see my attorney. That's it. Outside of that, I have nothing to go on. I just have to sit here and wait and wonder. Wonder if something's going on—wonder if something's new.”

“Have they asked about which one of us you want to speak to?” Cindy asked, referring to the possibility that Casey could visit privately, in person, with one other person.

“Yeah, I wanna see Dad. You know I wanna see everybody, but I had to choose, and I wanna see Dad.”

Cindy's face contorted. “Well, then, here, talk to your Dad.” She handed George the phone, wiped her eye and slumped forward, folding her arms tight across her mid-section.

“Hey, sweetheart,” George said. “I want you to know you are the boss through this whole thing, alright?”

“No, Dad, I'm not,” she snapped. “I haven't been since I got here.”

George talked over his daughter. “Listen to me for a second. Okay? Listen. Think of you owning this conglomerate—this huge business. José is one of your employees, so is the sheriff's department, so is the FBI, so am I, so is Lee and so is Mom. We're all working with you. And, if for some reason, something's not being said or being done, you can make it change. You're the one that . . .”

“Dad, I've told José. I've given him information to give to you guys. We've given everything to the police. But nobody's helping us—it's obvious. We know their intention. I'm sorry. I've helped in every way that I possibly can since the day I got here.”

“Okay,” George nodded.

“They didn't even give me twenty-four hours to help them—the police—without putting me here,” Casey ranted. “So, it's obvious where everybody's intentions lie.
I know you guys want Caylee. I want Caylee more than anyone can understand, but I can't do anything from where I'm at.”

“. . . Sweetie, I'm not trying to get you upset.”

“I am upset now. I'm completely upset.

The media is going to have a freaking field day with this . . .”

George tried to interrupt, but Casey cut him off. “Let me speak for a second, Dad. I have let everybody talk . . .”

“Okay, here's your mom,” George said, handing the phone to Cindy.

“Can someone let me . . .” Casey pulled the phone from her ear and clenched both fists in front of her as her face contorted. “Come on.”

“Casey, hold on, sweetheart. Settle down,” Cindy said.

“Nobody is letting me speak. You want me to talk, then give me three seconds to say something.”

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

“I am not in control over any of this, because I do not know what the hell is going on. I do not know what is going on. My entire life has been taken from me. Everything has been taken from me. You don't understand. Everybody wants me to have answers. I do not have any answers because I do not know what is going on.

“I have no one to talk to. Except José when he comes—he's the only person I can talk to right now, because I cannot even say anything to you guys besides telling you that I love you,” she said with a sniffle as her nose stuffed up from her tears.

“I want Caylee. Things like that, and that isn't even being put on the air, which it should be. It is everything else, everything that I am not saying. That's why I have not been calling, why I have not been taking calls, because him and I said we're not going to do that. I am trying to make sure that I am not going to give anybody else anything else to throw against me. But even with me giving them nothing, they are still doing it. So how am I . . .”

“. . . You'll be fine once Caylee is found,” Cindy assured her.

“Mom, I understand that. Do you understand my position on this? You guys expect me to have a thousand answers, and I have nothing. I have been here a month, out of contact with everybody except you guys, on the rare occasion that I get to see you, and my attorney. Do you understand? What am I supposed to learn from that? A month I have been removed from the situation. You guys are not understanding my side on this, and I am sorry.”

“No, I understand.”

“No, you don't,” Casey said with scorn. “Because you are still asking me if there is anything I can tell you that can help, that I am the one that can do this. I can't.

“The opportunity was there that I probably could have helped. I am trying. I was trying. There is nothing more that I can say or do until I'm home, and even then, I do not know what I can do from that point. But I can at least do something other than sit on my butt all day and read or look up stuff for my case, because that has to be my focus right now. That has to be my focus . . .”