Monster (73 page)

It seemed that Southy Healey would have made a better target. However, Healey had no motive or even the opportunity, unless Luther had stopped on the way back from Central City to get him so that they could both kill her.

But then for all the reasons Eerebout and Healey didn’t fit, Luther did.

“In all your conversations with Detective Richardson did you tell him the whole truth?” Hall asked Eerebout.

“No.”

“Could you keep straight what you told him from one time to another?”

“No.”

“When do you think it was that you finally came clean with all of this?”

“Not until the grand jury and, I’d say, today.” Eerebout replied. “Today is a big part. It’s all getting out finally.”

At last, Byron Eerebout was told he could step down. His swagger had returned as he passed the defense table. He glanced quickly at Luther with a slight smile on his face. Then he left the courtroom, where he seemed to appreciate being mobbed by the television camera crews.

A few minutes later, out in the hallway during a break, Earl Elder could only respond to the testimony of his daughter’s former boyfriend with, “Byron gives me a headache.”

During the break, the attorneys approached Munch with a new concern. The prosecution’s next witness, Hall said, “is distraught.” It was an understatement.

There had been a major slip-up on the part of the prosecution team and police. A slip-up potentially worse than Byron Eerebout’s comment about Tom Luther and prison. Lost in the concern about the potential mistrial, someone had forgotten to pick up Debrah Snider from her motel that morning.

Snider was left with no way to get to the courthouse. It had already been a rough night worrying about her testimony the next day and seeing Tom for the first time in nearly nine months.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. She was angry. Here she was, having made the decision to testify against the man she still loved, because she felt the truth was more important, and she was being told that she wouldn’t be allowed to tell the truth. At least, not the whole truth.

The district attorney had instructed her that she couldn’t mention Tom’s other crimes. She couldn’t say anything about how he viewed women, the comments he made, the pornographic movies where women were raped “and learned to like it.” She wouldn’t be allowed to explain why she was testifying against him. She wanted the truth to come out and, to her, she was being asked to lie.

Now, she had also been forgotten. She waited with her bags packed for hours before catching a bus to the courthouse. But her troubles didn’t end there. Inside the Taj Mahal, she had purchased a cup of coffee to settle her nerves, but the security officers at the metal detectors, who had no idea who she was, wouldn’t let her through with the drink.

That’s when it all boiled over. She cursed the guards and made such a fuss that she was physically escorted from the building. It was only when Richardson went looking for her that he discovered the prosecution’s key witness had been tossed out onto the streets.

Richardson put out a bulletin to all cab drivers and bus drivers to be on the lookout for her. The airport was called and told not to let her board. Finally, while Eerebout was testifying, a bus driver reported that he had taken a woman matching Snider’s description to a mall.

Police officers were dispatched to find her, which they did, wandering in tears, clutching her plane ticket back to West Virginia. She was within minutes of leaving for the airport and forgetting the whole Cher Elder affair.

Now she was waiting in the witness room, an emotional wreck. The actions of the security officers had convinced her that what Tom had once told her about his attorneys preparing to portray her as a vindictive bitch was about to come true. They would all be laughing at the crazy woman who loved a man she knew was a killer.

Cleaver broke in. “Mr. Hall has indicated that the next witness is ... distraught,” she said with a dramatic pause. “I happen to believe that the next witness is somewhat bizarre, and we’re very worried that we’ve gotten through one difficult witness and we may get another one.

“I hope if we get to any point where we think the woman is not going to follow directions she’s received, such as not revealing Mr. Luther’s criminal history, that we stop. I think it might be helpful if you would tell her that she cannot bring up a variety of things. I’m concerned that she is going to do whatever it is she wants.”

Munch said he’d be happy to warn Snider not to mention Luther’s history or pending charges. He asked that she be brought into the courtroom

Debrah marched in, her face red from crying. She swept past the defense table to stand before the judge without looking at Luther, who stared at her.

“Ms. Snider, I’m Judge Munch, and all that I wanted to chat with you about is just one or two things,” he said. “Court is generally a very stressful place for everybody and most witnesses, and it may well end up being that way for you, too. And very frankly, sometimes when people are being asked questions by lawyers, it’s hard to understand exactly what they mean and exactly what they’re asking.”

Munch didn’t get a chance to finish. Angrily, Snider cut him off. “Sir, I don’t have a single thing wrong with understanding what people ask me, but if I feel I’m not being respected, I have a problem with my temper.”

The outburst surprised Munch. “Well, Ms. Snider, then you and I have to talk about something. Okay?”

But Debrah wasn’t backing down. “And I don’t mind going to jail if that’s what you’re going to warn me about.”

Munch was puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about if this court doesn’t see that I am respected, and you want to put me in jail for contempt of court, let’s go,” she shouted. “I expect to be respected here by everybody. And I know that that is sometimes a problem.”

It was Munch’s turn to blush red. He looked at the lawyers. Hall held up his hands in surrender and Cleaver smirked an I-told-you-so. “Counsel, do you have any idea why this woman is going off?” Munch asked.

It was Snider who answered. “Yes, because I’ve already had a pretty bad day.”

Munch held up a hand. “Just be quiet. Counsel, either of you have any idea what’s behind this?”

Hall replied, “Judge, I think this whole matter is a very stressful situation for Ms. Snider.”

Cleaver added, “I was told that she was escorted out of the courthouse earlier today by security. I don’t know what the details are of that. I also think that Mr. Richardson has told her that we are going to cross-examine her and frame her as a ‘vindictive bitch.’ So I don’t know what she’s expecting.”

Richardson, who sat grimacing through Snider’s outburst, now looked at the defense attorney angrily. What in the hell was Cleaver talking about? It was Luther, who was now sitting in his seat shaking his head, who had told Debrah about his attorneys’ plans.

Munch turned to Hall. “Mr. Hall, I’ve really never had a witness who I was just trying to explain the rules tell me to go ahead and put them in jail for contempt. I am not particularly inclined to have her testify today. That’s an unusual reaction from a person.

“How much of a problem does it create for you if I direct that this witness be called Monday rather than today so that she has a chance to gather her thoughts?”

“That is no inconvenience to us,” Hall said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m not sure what Ms. Snider’s schedule is. She lives in the state of West Virginia and has flown out here to testify at this trial.”

Judge turned to Debrah. “Ms. Snider, it seems to me, very candidly, you’re quite upset.”

Debrah nodded. “Absolutely.”

“I’m not sure it’s the world’s best idea for you to testify in this frame of mind. I’m inclined to have you stay here over the weekend and come back and testify on Monday.”

“That’s fine.”

“I also don’t think it makes a lot of sense for us to have this chat right now because I think you’re angry, and I’m not sure why. So we’ll talk about it on Monday morning instead.”

Again, Debrah nodded. “Fine.”

Munch left the court muttering and shaking his head.

Later that evening, Richardson took Snider out to dinner. He knew the trial hung on her keeping it together in front of the jury. It was going to be hard enough to explain Debrah’s motivations over the past three years. If she acted unstable, angry and, quite frankly, vindictive, she’d lose all credibility with the jurors.

Richardson knew what was bothering her. She had at long last chosen the truth over love, and now she was being told she couldn’t tell the whole truth. In a way, he didn’t blame her.

“We’ve worked together for three years and all along you’ve told me you wanted to do the right thing,” he said looking into her eyes as they filled with tears. “Now, I’m tired. If you want Thomas Luther to walk away a free man—and honestly, you’re going to have to reach down into your heart and make the decision yourself—then don’t show up for court Monday.”

It was a huge gamble. He’d given her the keys to the car and told her that as far as he was concerned, she was free to leave. He had driven the wedge between her and Luther as deep as he could, now it was up to her to determine whether she would pull it out or leave it in.

January 29, 1996

Scott Richardson didn’t hear from Debrah Snider again that weekend. He couldn’t sleep or think straight. To clear his head, he climbed on his motorcycle and roared into the mountains toward Empire, the cold wind slapping his face.

He didn’t know whether he had won or lost the gamble until he arrived at the courthouse on Monday morning. Snider was there with her bags, waiting to get in.

He smiled and she smiled back. “Didn’t think I’d leave you in the lurch, did ya?” she laughed.

“Nope,” he lied.

Actually, once she calmed down Friday evening, Debrah had known she wouldn’t leave. But she appreciated Richardson’s show of faith by leaving it up to her. And really, there had been no decision to make. She owed her testimony to everybody—to Cher’s family for taking so long, to Richardson, the dragon-slayer who cared so much about someone he had never even known. And in a way, she owed it to Tom, at least the good side of him who had once told her that if he was doing wrong, she should stop him.

But most of all, she owed it to herself. To the one thing whose value she never doubted, the truth.

She loved Tom, and knew that she always would. But like her wolves, he was not safe to run loose. The man she loved was only safe to others so long as he was behind prison walls.

So that morning, she tied a white feather into her long gray and brown hair and pulled on a buckskin dress with fringes and a large, silver belt buckle. It was the dress her husband once told her looked like a bathrobe, but Tom had said made her look like an Indian princess ... and him the warrior who wanted to make love to her on the spot. She wore it now to let Tom know that she still cared for him, and to remind him of what he had thrown away.

After the jurors were seated that morning, Debrah Snider walked into the courtroom with her head high. She’d had a short conversation with Judge Munch, who’d told her that he was sorry and hadn’t meant to have her feel threatened the Friday before. He just wanted to let her know the rules, but otherwise, he assured her he wouldn’t let anyone harass her.

Hall gently began questioning her about her background. She said she was a psychiatric nurse who now worked in a hospital in West Virginia. In the spring of 1993, she was not living with Tom Luther, “but I spent as much time with him as I could.”

On the afternoon of March 29, just after she had returned from a trip to visit friends in Washington state, she had gone over to Tom’s apartment and found him in bed. His hands were covered with scrapes and bruises, a finger was broken. He told her a story about burying a box of AK-47 rifles. “It sounded so absurd. I mean, who is going to give Tom Luther AK-47s?”

Snider remained calm and to the point as she testified. Piece by piece, she linked her own recollections of life with Tom Luther into the stories the jurors had heard from Healey, Eerebout, Ramierez, and Richardson. It was like listening to the cylinders in a bank vault click into place as the door was prepared to open.

As she spoke, Snider didn’t try to hide her own role in the tragedy. “I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, but I participated in suggestions, you know, helping him plan the day he was going to go bury the body.”

Neither did she try to cover up for Luther. She gave him the cleanser to clean the stain where he said Cher vomited. But, she told Hall, she had been in his car the day she got back and never smelled anything like vomit.

The decision to tell the truth, she admitted, came slowly. Speaking about the drive with Luther to the public defender’s office in Golden, she had felt little for what had happened to Cher Elder. “Prior to this, Cher was somebody I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I was angry with her for having been with Tom. She had no business with my boyfriend and so I didn’t care about her.”

But when Tom referred to Cher as ‘it,’ “it made me angry because she was not an it. I said, ‘She was never an it. She was a person.’ It just made him more angry.”

And later that night, when she told Luther that she didn’t believe a mysterious “they” had killed Cher, she asked him who was going to kill her for talking to the police.

“What did he say?” Hall asked.

“He ignored the question.”

When Hall finished his questions, Snider reached for a cup of water and took a drink, as Cleaver stood. So far, Cleaver had done very little of the questioning, except for the expert witnesses.

It was clear the defense attorney saw this as her chance to strike a blow. She began by attacking Debrah’s description of herself as a truthful person.

Wasn’t it true, Cleaver asked, that Debrah took months to tell Richardson about Tom burying the body?

“Yes.”

“And in fact, what you tell us is that you actually helped plan to bury a woman’s body, correct?”

“I suppose that’s correct.”

And wasn’t it true, Cleaver asked, that she only called Richardson after fights with Tom?