It was a perfect opportunity for Jeremy, not only because he would gain housing, but also because he would be sharing the house with men like himself. Men who had served their country in the United States military. He would now reside in the expansive Georgian-style house with five Marines, including Castille, who had lost a leg in Vietnam, and who would go on to serve as a Supreme Court Justice in the state of Pennsylvania.
Jeremy rarely spoke of his time in the service, and he never once mentioned the Silver Star he was awarded for his bravery. For him, military service was the yardstick by which he measured a person’s worthiness as a friend. But it was not something to boast about, even with his fellow officers. Even before his stint in the Marines, he had been a proud patriot. But his loyalty to America, and to his fellow servicemen, intensified after his time in the Corps and his service in Vietnam. He did nothing to hide his disdain for those who had not served, and as the years passed, he grew increasingly intolerant of those with no military background.
Jeremy’s circle of friends did not include a single man who had not served his country in the armed forces and seen active duty. His buddies found the former Marine captain very conservative in his thinking, although he did not live the traditional lifestyle that one equates with right-wing thinkers. He was libertarian in his views, and was a loyal friend. Pals like his new housemate Don Boswell, also a Marine, believed that he was someone who could be counted on if there was ever a need.
But his new housemates would soon learn that going out on the town with Jeremy could spell trouble. He had a tendency to get himself involved in fights on a regular basis, and seemed to find it impossible to walk away from potentially explosive situations, even if they put himself and others in harm’s way. He was opinionated and brazenly blunt, and his need to tell people what was on his mind created awkward moments, like the time he told one of his roommates that the woman he was dating was unattractive.
Although his outbursts were usually sugar-coated in Southern civility, his friends noticed that his words could be especially harsh after indulging in a few cocktails. While he was not much of a drinker, his cronies knew that when Jeremy had a few glasses of whiskey his blunt comments could be mean and hurtful. Don and his housemates joked that Jeremy’s personality was the total opposite of a politician. He never worried what others thought of him, and cared little whether he was liked or hated.
For Don, Jeremy’s style could not have been more different from his own. Like Jeremy, he too had been out of school to fulfill his military service in the Marine Corps, and had returned to complete his law studies the year that Jeremy moved into their house. And while Don and Jeremy became good friends, their military service and the fact that they were both enrolled at law school were about the only things the two men had in common.
Don was diligent about his studies, and serious about his education. He attended all of his classes, and set aside ample time to study for his exams. Jeremy, on the other hand, skipped lectures for months at a time. If he thought it was a good ski day, he’d hop in the car and head off to a resort. But he was so bright that he could cram for a week or two and pass his tests without worry.
Even the way that Don and Jeremy approached their leisure activities set them apart, with Don opting to observe and enjoy, and Jeremy preferring a more hands-on approach. On their scuba diving trips to the Bahamas, Don liked to linger under the sea, taking in the wonders of the deep and observing the colorful varieties of tropical fish that swam quietly around him; Jeremy chose a more aggressive style, deriving great pleasure from chasing after the first decent-sized fish that he spotted until he captured and killed it.
Even Jeremy’s approach to athletics was contrary, and more intense than Don’s or anyone else’s in the house that the five men shared. Obsessed with physical fitness, Jeremy routinely embarked on a regimen that included three hundred push-ups, four hundred sit-ups, and a fifteen-mile run. He was totally dedicated to keeping himself in shape, placing his own physical well-being before everything else in his life. So much so that before a final exam, he would wake up unusually early, hit the streets for a fifteen-mile run, and then top off his morning constitutional with one hundred push-ups. Jeremy’s intense workouts, coupled with his compact, five-foot, seven-inch frame, prompted Don to nickname his roommate “Little Tarzan.”
His well-sculpted physique, and his wild, almost untamable personality made Jeremy popular with women. His dating was somewhat limited by the fact that the law school had just opened its doors to women, and there were little more than a handful of females enrolled at the campus during his time there. Nevertheless, his friends would later describe him as a sort of James Bond type, a man who had countless opportunities to date, but who made little commitment to the women he dated.
As far as Jeremy and his friends were concerned, he was not the marrying kind. His commitment seemed to be to himself first and foremost, and he did not come across as someone who could or would give freely to others. And while he was extremely possessive and solicitous toward his girlfriends, he showed no interest in getting involved in a long-term relationship, and even less interest in the bonds of matrimony.
Yet, friends say, he operated under an archaic honor system that made him jealous and possessive of the women in his life. For instance, the way he reacted upon learning that an old girlfriend had taken up with one of his pals: Unable to let go of their former relationship, Jeremy felt compelled to interrogate his friend, asking pointed questions about every aspect of the relationship, in spite of the fact that it was he who had ended the liaison with the young woman.
Even his commitment to his studies at the University of Virginia did not seem to hold the same importance that they once did. Unlike in the past, when he diligently remained true to his endeavors, he now seemed easily distracted. The promise of a good day of skiing, or a sudden offer to scuba dive in the Bahamas were all it took to lure him away from his classes. Somehow, the excitement of being at the highly-regarded school of law where he had once longed to be matriculated paled in comparison to the life-and-death situations he had experienced as a platoon leader in Vietnam. The military stipend that he was receiving from the Marine Corps for his disability helped him to pay the rent, and afforded him the chance to travel whenever the opportunity arose, and he took full advantage of any invitations that came his way.
During one summer break from the University of Virginia, he agreed to work for his favorite cousin, Annette Clark Dodd, as a clerk at the Birmingham law firm where she practiced. The job required that he perform a variety of tasks, everything from writing briefs to pulling files in court. Jerry had always enjoyed a close relationship with Annette, whom he considered both brilliant and accomplished. Even though she was eight years his senior, Jerry counted her among his closest friends. He seemed to feel comfortable confiding in her, and he often used her as a sounding board to bounce off his ideas.
He was flattered when she asked him to come to work for her firm, and happily accepted the invitation. While in the city, Jeremy decided to contact his old friend from elementary school, Ray Walker. He had heard that Ray had married and moved to Birmingham with his young bride. The two men agreed to meet over lunch. Right from the start, Ray was taken aback by his high school chum’s angry demeanor. He had not seen his old friend since their reunion at the U.S. military base in Dong Ha, Vietnam, yet it took only minutes for Ray to observe that Jeremy’s time in the military seemed to have changed him. He barely recognized his old friend, whom he referred to as Jerry. As they sat talking over sandwiches, Ray saw that the clean-cut gentleman, who once was elected leader of his class at Sheffield High School, was gone.
The new Jerry was confrontational, and outraged at the way his world had changed in the few years that he had been away. He was critical of the move toward desegregation in the South, and full of enough palpable anger to make his friend afraid of him. During that summer, Ray noticed that Jerry was spending more time than ever partying the nights away. And
he learned from a mutual friend that it was Jerry who had been at the center of the ugly fight that had broken out during a bachelor party held that summer.
Jeremy returned to the University of Virginia in the fall, but did not stay for long, opting instead to move to the West Coast to join a friend in the San Francisco Bay area. Friends believe that he was drawn to California’s temperate climate and the promise of a good time. He decided to continue his studies at the University of California School of Law, Boalt Hall in Berkeley. Upon completion of several courses, he qualified for his Juris Doctorate from the University of Virginia, and on June 4, 1972, he was awarded his diploma, not long after being admitted to the State Bar of California. Subsequently, he would be admitted to the State Bar of Florida, and the Bar of the Supreme Court of the United States.
In 1973, Jeremy was removed from the Marine Corps’ Temporary Disability Retired List, and granted an honorable discharge. His impressive résumé landed him a prestigious position in the nation’s capital. At the age of thirty-four, he began a job as staff counsel to the House Select Committee on Assassinations. The committee had been assembled to investigate the death of President John F. Kennedy, and, as counsel, Jeremy formulated and wrote an investigative outline identifying intermediate objectives and ultimate issues to be resolved over a two-year period of investigation.
It was while working on this committee that he met Patricia Duff, who would remain a lifelong friend. The striking socialite with the movie star looks had come to Washington after her efforts to gain employment overseas failed. When she learned that the House Select Committee on Assassinations was hiring, the lanky, fair-haired beauty turned up at the office dressed to impress and with her résumé in hand.
Attractive, smart, and from a “good” family, Duff was very much Jeremy’s type. A graduate of the International School of Brussels at the age of seventeen, Patricia returned to the United States, where she enrolled at Barnard College, sister school to Columbia University, in New York City. Her plan was to study to become a diplomat or a foreign correspondent, but when her parents divorced after her freshman year, she was forced to drop out of the Ivy League school.
After a short stint in Switzerland with a high school boyfriend from Brussels, she returned to the United States and attended Georgetown University, where she majored in international economics. Jeremy’s friend Bill Ranger was a student at the campus and would always recount to Jeremy how his heart started pounding every time he saw the breathtaking blonde walking along the cement paths of the Georgian-style campus.
Upon graduation from the predominantly male school, Patricia returned to Europe but had little success finding employment. Discouraged by her fruitless search, she came back to Washington, where she learned of the opening with the newly formed committee. Her new position placed her in constant contact with Jeremy, and the two became fast friends. She was the just the kind of woman that Jeremy found attractive, as he tended to gravitate to women from well-heeled families, even though his own background was much more modest. And while Jeremy and Patricia liked each other, their relationship remained strictly on a platonic level. Patricia found her new companion fun, charming, and bright. As a member of the research team that Jeremy supervised, she and her colleagues spent much of their time looking into the activities of the Mob and the CIA.
Jeremy supervised and directed the investigative team of research assistants and criminal investigators, and coordinated and negotiated policy decisions between the committee, local police departments, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the Central Intelligence Agency. He also supervised ballistic, fingerprint, handwriting, and soil/fiber analysis projects, and planned, coordinated, wrote testimony for, and conducted Congressional hearings, including direct and cross-examination of witnesses in televised sessions.
Even his serious position and the important role that he was playing in the lengthy investigation did not stop him from pulling the pranks that set him apart from his colleagues on Capitol Hill. He thought nothing of calling up a co-worker and pretending to be a Supreme Court justice phoning to admonish him or her for some infraction. While some found Jeremy’s antics hysterically funny, others were not amused.
It was during his first year on the job that he was introduced to Nancy Richards, who, at the time, was working as a researcher for the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. A mutual friend had suggested he meet the charming brunette, who had previously worked as a speechwriter for the colorful North Carolina senator, Sam Ervin, before landing her current research position with the internationally minded committee.
From their very first date, there seemed to be electricity in the air. At first, Jeremy was completely taken with the brainy socialite from one of New York’s wealthiest suburbs, Westchester County. He found the curvaceous, five-foot, four-inch brunette with the ample bosom and twenty-four-inch waist a knockout. But it wasn’t just her looks that captivated Jeremy’s interest. Her beauty, sophistication, and worldliness were what really seemed to charm him. That she had been brought up in such a “proper” home, yet could kick up her heels and have a little fun, was intriguing and compelling to him.
Their mutual infatuation was so clearly evident to outsiders that the couple appeared to sparkle whenever they were together. Jeremy found himself attracted to Nancy’s vivacious personality and her brilliant mind. In short, she was the type of woman he had always wanted—someone he could not even begin to imagine could ever be capable of disappointing him. He could talk for hours with her about politics, world affairs, and even obscure pieces of literature and never seem to tire. To him, she was smart, spirited, and, most important, a representation of everything he aspired to become. The eloquent, full-figured woman hailed from the kind of background he had only dreamed about. While he had always gravitated to women from well-to-do backgrounds, Nancy’s pedigree was particularly impressive. The granddaughter of a wealthy businessman, she had enjoyed a life of privilege that included a boarding-school education, first-class travel, fancy clothes, and the poise that comes from having the “right” upbringing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nancy was born in New York City on January 16, 1951. Her mother, Susan, was twenty-eight years old when she and her first husband took their baby daughter home from the hospital.
A society girl from a wealthy New York family, Nancy’s mother had been accustomed to a lifestyle that included Junior League functions and gala society balls. Raised in an exclusive Northeast suburb, she and her sister enjoyed all the privileges afforded to children of high society. The girls’ parents showered their daughters with fancy clothes, expensive jewels, and trips around the world.
Shortly after her birth, Nancy was baptized as a Roman Catholic, the religious faith of her father. The adorable little girl with the Shirley Temple curls spent three years being indulged as an only child before the birth of her brother, John on March 13, 1954.
Together, they enjoyed several years as a family, but, unbeknownst to the little girl and her brother the marriage of their parents was disintegrating. Nancy’s mother would later confide that she and her father had little in common. Ultimately, they parted ways. Susan asked her husband to relinquish his rights to the children, which he did, and the new divorcee—still uncomfortable in the 1950s about the none-too-popular status—set her sites on finding a suitable new husband from her affluent social circle.
Still in elementary school, Nancy could barely comprehend the news that she would no longer be seeing her father. But when she tried to talk to her mother about him, she was admonished never to mention his name again. Nancy would later tell friends that she had spent many nights in the privacy of her curtain-laced bedroom, crying herself to sleep, mourning the loss of her beloved daddy. But her tears did nothing to bring back the dark-haired man who had willingly bid his family farewell.
It was not long before a new man surfaced in her mother’s life, and Nancy and her brother learned that Roderick C. Richards would become their new father. The lanky, da
rk-haired Richards had the perfect pedigree, having graduated from Cornell University Medical College in New York City, spent two years in pediatrics at Lenox Hill Hospital in New York—first as an intern and then as an assistant resident—and then returned to exclusive Westchester County to start a practice of his own.
His aristocratic looks, bushy eyebrows, and long, slender nose, coupled with the fact that he was a successful doctor with a burgeoning practice, made him a desirable catch to the young women in Susan’s social circle. The son of Mr. and Mrs. Carroll P. Richards of Withington Road in the Westchester town of Scarsdale, Roderick had moved back to his hometown after completing his medical school education, frequently treating the sons and daughters of his high school chums.
His decision to return to Westchester County, settling in one of the wealthiest communities in the nation, was to have a major impact on his adopted daughter’s life. While its reputation was that of an exclusive, even snobbish, enclave of bluebloods and upper-crust WASPs, the tone of this upscale community was actually set in the seventeenth century.
According to local historians, Scarsdale was founded by Caleb Heathcote, a sixth son born in 1666 to the family of Mayor Heathcote of Chesterfield in the Hundred of Scars-dale, Derbyshire, England. He was engaged to marry at the age of twenty-six, but his intended wife had turned her affections to one of Caleb’s older brothers. Disappointed, he set sail for New York. A tradesman, he became one of the most successful men of the colony and began to buy up land in Westchester. By 1701, Heathcote established a royal manor, on land purchased with permission from William III, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, that he named Scarsdale for his ancestral home.
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