Perfect Poison (6 page)

Kathy Rix began her VA nursing career in 1975 in Syracuse, New York, where she worked for ten years in the medical ward and two years as an emergency room supervisor. In 1988, Rix moved to Westfield, Massachusetts, married a local cop, and got a job working at the Leeds VAMC.

Rix was perceptive, a professional. Dedicated and cerebral, she took her responsibilities as a nurse with the utmost seriousness.

Not too much got by Kathy Rix.

At a lean five-four, with a slight red tint to her shoulder-length blond hair, Rix had an eye-catching attractiveness to her. She had been a nurse for two decades and knew her job better than most. When she met Gilbert, they immediately hit it off and not only developed a working relationship but also became friends.

Rix later said she had never met a nurse as attentive and qualified as Gilbert. She viewed Gilbert's clinical and patient assessment skills as being far beyond those of many of the nurses she had worked with throughout the years. Her knowledge of medications, Rix recalled, was “excellent. She was very efficient in documenting [events], and her notes seemed to be clear and easy to read.”

In early October, several Ward C nurses went to Rix and began complaining about Gilbert's recent behavior. They felt they could depend on Rix. If they told her their concerns, they knew something would be done about it. In particular, Beverly Scott, April Gougeon, Lisa Baronas and Lori Naumowitz said they had a big problem with the way Gilbert was leaving the ward for extended periods during her shift.

When Rix confronted her, Gilbert said she would go off to the library to look up work-related things. Once, she said, she went to the security office to get a new parking sticker for her Jeep because the old one had been torn off in the car wash. She didn't understand what the big problem was.

The nurses knew they were lies; Gilbert was slipping away to meet her new boyfriend, James Perrault—and they were sick and tired of it.

Like everyone else Gilbert had worked with, Rix noticed the physical changes in Gilbert during the fall of 1995 as well.

As time passed, Rix began to become concerned about all the time Gilbert was spending at the VFW. She had never known Gilbert to frequent bars regularly, and watching her apply lipstick and put on a fresh layer of clothing at the end of her shift gave Rix reason to believe Gilbert was up to no good.

Shortly before Halloween, Gilbert called Rix at her home, and with one simple question let Rix know exactly what she was up to without even admitting to it.

“I have a friend who is having an affair,” Gilbert said. “I want to know your thoughts about it, Kathy.”

“Are you sure you're not talking about yourself, Kristen?”

“Oh, no. Why would you say that?”

“Well, you haven't had anything good to say about Glenn in a
long
time.”

“I'm not talking about my situation, Kathy. Trust me,” Gilbert said before ending the conversation.

 

 

James Perrault was wearing out his welcome on Ward C by the end of October. To the chagrin of most of the nurses, as codes became more regular, so did Perrault's presence. Many nurses noticed that the codes and medical emergencies happened only when Perrault was on duty, and, disturbingly, Gilbert and Perrault would flirt with each other while trying to save a patient's life.

They were seen rubbing their bodies together and touching each other in a provocative manner. Gilbert would even smile at him and make eye contact while they worked.

Perrault loved the attention and noticed the bumping and grinding got more erotic as each code was called.

“You're good at what you do,” Perrault said one night.

“Thanks,” Gilbert said. “I enjoy watching your muscles while you do compressions. You do it better than most other officers.”

 

 

Since that first night back in September, when Perrault and Gilbert physically consummated their relationship in the backseat of Gilbert's car as though it were prom night, they began meeting four to fives times a week at various places. Like two virgins discovering sex for the first time, they screwed their way through October.

They just couldn't get enough of each other.

On some days, they'd meet before work
and
after work. It wasn't in cheap motels or at Gilbert's home while Glenn was at work. Always under Gilbert's direction, they would run off to the old cornfield in Hatfield, down by the Connecticut River boat launch, or they would pull off on dirt roads Gilbert had discovered while four-wheeling with fellow nurse David Rejniak.

Close to the end of October, the nurses on Ward C decided they needed something to take them out of the funk that was overwhelming everything they did. The talk and focus had been centered on how much Gilbert had changed, the affair she thought she was hiding, and poor Glenn Gilbert, the “good guy” who was getting the short end of a very long stick.

With Halloween right around the corner, the Ward C staff decided to have a masquerade ball.

Days before the party, Gilbert dreamed up an idea and presented it to Perrault while they sat in the basement of the VAMC one night and talked.

“I want to fix you up with my sister, Jimmy. With the Halloween party coming, it'll be the perfect place for you two to get together.”

“What about
us?”

“Well, there can't be an ‘us,' Jimmy. You know that.... Anyway, you've met my sister—”

“Yeah, she's attractive.”

“You two will get along well.”

Perrault didn't care one way or the other. He'd already had Gilbert; why not try out the sister, too? As a bonus, Tara was single. She could offer Perrault what he wanted: a steady, fulltime girlfriend he could go out on the town with without worrying about being seen.

For the next few days, Gilbert went around the ward and told everyone the latest news. She was beside herself and seemed elated by the prospect. Miss Matchmaker. It was all her idea.

Just about everyone from Ward C showed up at the party: John Wall, Kathy Rix, Renee Walsh, Lori Naumowitz, April Gougeon, David Rejniak, the whole crew, including friends of the nurses, dates, husbands and wives.

Glenn Gilbert was, of course, a bit apprehensive about going, but thought maybe a night out with his wife would somehow help the marriage. He wanted nothing more than to have a life with Kristen.

Kristen dressed as a gypsy. She wore a loose-fitting, bright, blood-orange-colored costume with all the trimmings. The blouse part of the costume was cut right below her modest breasts, making her belly button visible. An expert sewer, she put the costume together herself. Her sister, Tara, went as a medieval maiden, dressed in a blue gown that accentuated her dirty blond hair and pale-white skin. Perrault, of course, being ever so preoccupied with how he looked, wore a simple two-piece suit, with a red tie and white shirt. He drank Budweiser from the bottle and worked the party as if he were a nightclub singer after a gig, schmoozing with whomever he could.

Kristen's night was dominated by trying to act as if the entire event had been her idea. She strutted around as the hostess with the mostest, catering to everybody's whim—with the exception of her husband's.

Tara and Perrault never hooked up, and many wondered if the idea had been a front.

Either way, Glenn had seen enough of his wife's following her sister and Perrault around.

“Kristen,” Glenn said, pulling her aside, “why the hell are you so preoccupied with your sister and Jim?”

Kristen didn't respond.

“Can't you pay me any attention?”

Kristen walked away without speaking. Glenn, having seen enough, left the party and walked home.

Later on, Perrault approached Kristen, reminding her of her earlier suggestion that he meet her sister.

“So, when am I going to formally meet your sister?”

“No!”

“No? But you said . . .”

“I know what I said, but I'm jealous.”

A few days later, Renee Walsh went up to Gilbert and asked her how the date between her sister and Perrault had gone. With the fuss that Gilbert had made over the date, and Walsh not even seeing them together once during the party, she was curious about what had happened between Perrault and Tara after the party.

“So, did your sister have a good time with Jim?”

“No, I wouldn't let her.”

“What do you mean, ‘you wouldn't let her'?”

“Jim was drinking . . .” Gilbert started to say. “He was a real asshole, anyway. I didn't want him near my little sister. I told her she couldn't go out with him.”

To be closer to his married girlfriend, James Perrault rented a one-bedroom apartment on Parsons Street in Easthampton on November 1, 1995. Renting the apartment, however, was only the first step. If Gilbert wanted to continue the relationship, Perrault soon made it clear, she would have to make a decision.

“You're the kind of guy I wish I could be with,” Gilbert said one night. “I wish I never married Glenn in the first place.”

“I like you, too, Kris. But—”

“He abuses me,” Gilbert added. “He verbally abuses me and pushes me around.”

It was a lie. Those who knew Glenn Gilbert knew he wouldn't lift a finger to anyone, let alone the mother of his children.

“You could get a restraining order against him, Kris. You know that, don't you?”

“No! I have to think about the kids.”

“Well, in that case, you should go to counseling then. You know, try and save the marriage.”

Gilbert was adamant. “No. Never. It won't work. It'd never work.”

With that, Perrault was at a loss for ideas. He wasn't a marriage counselor. Far from it, actually. He was just trying to figure out where Gilbert's life was heading and where—and if—he fit into it somewhere. If she wanted to try to work things out with Glenn, it was okay with him. He hadn't really invested too much time in the relationship by this point, anyway.

“You have only one option then, Kris.”

“What's that, Jimmy?”

“Move out.”

But Gilbert didn't want to move out of her Drewson Drive home. She demanded that Glenn leave—and vowed to friends she would do whatever it took to get Glenn out of house so she could stay there with the kids.

 

 

When Glenn got home from work on November 5, he felt sicker than he had in years. For the entire day, he'd suffered from flu-like symptoms. Sweaty, pale and nauseous, by the time his wife had gone off to work at four, Glenn sat down to see if he could shake off whatever it was he had.

Throughout the night, he battled fatigue and muscle cramps until, finally, he began vomiting, feeling as though he were going to pass out. At around 10:45, he broke down and called his wife.

“I need you to come home and take me to the ER.”

“I'll be right there.”

While in the ER, as they drew blood, Glenn was wide awake, alert. There wasn't a doubt in anybody's mind that he was ill, but he was certainly aware of what was going on around him.

A short time later, the ER doctor came in and said that Glenn's potassium level had dropped to a “critically low level.” In addition, “his heart was beating irregularly and exhibiting cardiac arrhythmias.”

Potassium is found naturally in the body. It was unheard of for a man of Glenn's age and physical shape to have a low potassium level. A person would have to stop drinking water for days—and even then, the level of potassium would be higher than what Glenn was exhibiting.

Not having much of anything to say, Kristen stood by and watched as the nurses and doctors worked on Glenn. After a while, Glenn was released and given a prescription of potassium to get his level back up to where it should be.

Still feeling ill, Glenn took the following day off from work. But after getting most of his strength back the next day, November 7, he was able to return.

“I'm not happy with how you were treated at the ER,” Kristen told him later that night before she left for work. “I'll have the VA check your blood to make sure your potassium level is back up.”

“How you going to do that?”

“I'll bring home the equipment, take a blood sample myself, and bring it back to the VA with me.”

“Okay,” Glenn said, and Kristen went off to work.

This was extraordinary. Hospitals, under strict guidelines, never test employees' blood samples, and VAMC policies strictly forbid it. Further, Gilbert had never even spoken to the lab technician, who later said she would have told her no, anyway.

Over the next several days, Kristen never denied the fact to her coworkers that Glenn had been ill.

“He should have coded,” she told one friend, “due to his low potassium level. But he didn't.” She also displayed her dissatisfaction about how the ER had treated him. “The hospital should have taken a blood sample to check his potassium level before they discharged him.”

But the ER
had
taken a blood sample. Kristen had stood there and watched them do it.

Then she called her old friend, Rachel Webber.

“What happened?” Webber asked, after Kristen explained how sick Glenn had been.

“Oh, he played some volleyball, and his electrolytes were off. They had to replenish his fluids . . . they put him on an IV.”

“Is he okay now?”

“He's fine.”

Feeling a bit better, on November 10, Glenn went for an appointment at Kaiser Permanente, where his doctor checked his potassium level once again. It was, finally, back to normal.

Kristen had November 11 and 12 off. On the eleventh, while LPN April Gougeon was filling out some paperwork at the nurse's station, she looked up and spotted Kristen walking toward the medicine supply closet—or satellite pharmacy—which was directly across the hallway from the nurse's station on Ward C. Gougeon was surprised to see Gilbert. But there she was, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, rummaging through the medicine supply closet.

“Hi, Kristen, what's going on? What are you doing here?” Gougeon asked.

As Gilbert rushed by, she said, “Oh, I need to . . . get some more medication for Glenn. He didn't fill his prescription, and I need to get some more potassium.”

Gougeon watched as Gilbert tore through the medicine cabinet and, after apparently finding what she was looking for, took off.

The following night, November 12, she showed up again.

This time, LPN Lori Naumowitz watched as Gilbert walked hurriedly by the nurse's station without saying a word, again en route toward the medicine supply closet.

As she entered the satellite pharmacy, Naumowitz followed her. Looking on from the doorway, she watched as Gilbert rummaged through the closet.

“Um . . . what are you doing?” Naumowitz asked.

“Oh, Lori . . . hi,” Gilbert said. “Glenn got a prescription for potassium from the hospital, but he ran out. I'm just taking some potassium home for him. No big deal.”

The VAMC stocked potassium on Ward C in many different forms, the most popular and easily accessible being tiny, clear ampoules similar to many of the other medications in the closet. Given in large doses, potassium is fatal. It is the final drug administered during an execution by lethal injection and stops the heart almost immediately upon impact.

After Gilbert left, Naumowitz pulled nursing assistant Lisa Baronas into an empty room and, privately, told her what Gilbert had done.

Baronas had her own story to tell.

A couple of days prior to November 11, she said she saw the strangest thing. As she walked into the nurse's locker room to use the restroom at the beginning of her shift, she noticed a funny-looking reflection on the wall. At first she thought it was from her watch because there was no curtain on the window and the sun, which was just beginning to set, had been reflecting off the floor. But after looking more closely, she saw that the reflection was being made by a couple of silver drug packet strips hanging out of Gilbert's coat.

So she walked over.

Immediately, she saw the VA symbol on the packets and knew that they were from the medicine cabinet. Without removing them from Gilbert's jacket, Baronas looked at the names printed on the back of each packet: nifedipine and captopril.

In all her years of nursing, Baronas had never seen nor heard of the drugs.

A few days later, while telling Beverly Scott over the phone what she had seen, the two nurses made a date to look up the meds in a reference book. What they eventually found out not only piqued their interest and confused them, but gave them cause for concern.

Nifedipine is a calcium blocker. Calcium blockers are used in the treatment of certain heart conditions and victims of stroke. It causes the blood vessels and heart muscles to relax and dilate. The type of nifedipine Gilbert had in her pocket, however, had never been authorized or prescribed for any patients on Ward C.

Captopril is used in the treatment of cardiovascular diseases, hypertension and congestive heart failure, generally for lowering blood pressure.

Combined, both drugs can lower the heart rate of a healthy person to an extremely dangerous level—and, if given in a large enough dose, can cause death.