Fatal Jealousy: The True Story of a Doomed Romance, a Singular Obsession, and a Quadruple Murder

by McEvoy, Colin

  Ballard left the bar and headed closer to Denise’s neighborhood, but instead of going directly there, he stopped at the nearby Assante Ristorante Italiano and had another drink. From there, he walked to Ridge Alley, a narrow backstreet that runs parallel to Denise’s street, and spoke to Karl and Cynthia Swankoski, who own a house on the side of Ridge Alley just opposite Denise’s home.

  Judge questioned the Swankoskis, who explained Ballard had asked them if he could cut through their yard to reach the alley, and they agreed. From their yard, Ballard had a clear view of Denise’s house. To the Swankoskis, it appeared Ballard was conducting surveillance of sorts on the house. But he must not have seen what he was seeking, they later told Judge, because he quickly turned away from the house and walked back toward Main Street.

  By now it would have been 2 p.m., just hours before Denise and the others were murdered. Judge reviewed yet more security footage from the neighboring stores, and learned that Ballard had gone to the nearby State Liquor Store and purchased a 2.25-pint bottle of vodka.

  Questioned later by Judge, the clerk claimed he noticed Ballard’s distinctive light blue Superman shirt and was tempted to ask, “Where’s your cape?” But there was something disturbing in the customer’s eyes, and the clerk decided against making the joke.

  “He looked distant,” the clerk told Judge. “Like he was here, but not here.”

  Judge also later learned that Ballard visited another bar where he drank another Long Island Iced Tea and his entire bottle of vodka mixed with Mountain Dew. Ballard had consumed a lot of alcohol in a short amount of time, especially for a man who seldom drank otherwise, having lived most of his life in prison and his recent months in a halfway house.

  Judge suspected Ballard was trying to calm himself before committing his crime, and Ballard himself would not dispute that interpretation.

  “I don’t know if I was numbing myself from what I was going to do,” Ballard later said. “I’m out there getting shitfaced because maybe I can’t deal with the decision I’ve made but I can’t stop myself.”

  Surveillance camera footage showed Ballard stopping in at a convenience store and a pharmacy up until 2:20 p.m., when the cameras lost any further trace of him. A later check of phone records revealed Ballard called Denise’s cell phone twice. The calls lasted three and a half and five minutes. What words the two may have exchanged in those calls might never be known.

  It took Judge a great deal of time to retrace Ballard’s steps, but it gave him a good idea of the man’s movements that day, as well as a glimpse into his state of mind. The obsessive calls he made from the community center, his meticulous testing of the knives, the drinking to still his nerves: To Judge, it was clear that Ballard started June 26 with just one goal in mind: to kill Denise Merhi.

  On June 29, a few days after Judge had finished retracing his steps, Ballard was released from St. Luke’s Hospital. He was taken directly to the Northampton County Prison, where District Judge Jackie Taschner arraigned him via video. Although he had already been arraigned in Lehigh County, it had to be done a second time now that he was being brought back to the county where the murders took place. The police, the victims’ families, and many in the community breathed a sigh of relief upon learning that Ballard was out of the hospital and back behind bars.

  CHAPTER 12

  Violently slain together in the home they shared, Denise Merhi, Dennis Marsh, and Alvin Marsh Jr. would also be buried together.

  The joint funeral service for the three took place on July 1, five days after the murders, at Faith Evangelical Lutheran Church in Whitehall Township. Denise had been a member at the church, a large building with tan and gray stone, a black pitched roof, and a modern-looking cross made of black metal rods. Three white hearses lined up in front of the church, where more than three hundred friends and family members came to pay their respects.

  Among those in the crowd was Marilyn Rivera, who was stunned by the sheer number of people who had come out to remember her friend. As she approached the church, she saw a huge line of people stretching out of the building and toward the parking lot. News crews were set up a few yards away, with reporters trying to talk to mourners as photographers and video cameras captured images of the scene.

  Marilyn didn’t want to wait in the line, so she walked up ahead and saw that Denise’s cousin Bubba was monitoring the crowd as people filed into the church. She asked whether she could cut ahead, and Bubba nodded, motioning for Marilyn to walk past the line into a small, dimly lit room within the church building.

  The three caskets were set up next to one another, almost in a half circle. Denise was in the middle, her father and grandfather on either side of her. Chairs were set along next to Dennis and Alvin’s caskets, where friends and members of the family sat. The line of mourners, almost all wearing black, snaked silently across the room, allowing them to pass each of the caskets before greeting Geraldine Dorwart and other family members as they left.

  Geraldine was sitting next to some of the empty chairs, which allowed the mourners to sit and speak with her for a few moments before leaving the room. She hugged, kissed, and shared a few words with everyone who came to see her. Marilyn looked forward to speaking with Geraldine. She had only briefly spoken with her once since Denise died, when Geraldine called looking for one of Denise’s scrapbooks.

  Their relationship had been a bit strained in recent months after Denise and Marilyn got into a fight a few months before Denise’s death. The two reconciled, as they always did after a fight, but Marilyn felt that Geraldine was concerned about the reconciliation because she feared Marilyn would hurt Denise again. Otherwise, Marilyn had always gotten along with Geraldine. In fact, at one point Marilyn and Geraldine were so close that Denise had even become jealous of their relationship.

  Next to Geraldine were Denise’s children, Trystan and Annikah. Marilyn noticed that Trystan wasn’t crying, and was trying to be very brave for his mother. Marilyn felt she couldn’t have been more proud of him if he were her own son.

  As the line moved forward and Marilyn got closer and closer to Denise’s casket, she passed two tri-fold boards with photos of Denise, Dennis, and Alvin. Marilyn noticed several pictures of herself and her children along with Denise, Annikah, and Trystan.

  When Marilyn was finished paying her respects, she approached Geraldine. While she had sat down and spoken with everyone else who approached her, Marilyn was surprised when Geraldine immediately stood up as Marilyn approached.

  “I don’t have time for you,” Geraldine said, with such a look of disgust on her face that Marilyn felt like she wanted to throw up. In that moment, she could tell that Geraldine blamed her, at least partially, for Denise’s death.

  “It’s not my fault,” Marilyn said. “Denise had a mind of her own.”

  “Well, things could’ve been avoided,” Geraldine said, looking away.

  Marilyn was mortified.

  “It’s not my fault Denise decided to date a psychopath,” she said. “You know Denise. You know how strong-willed she was.”

  Geraldine looked back at Marilyn.

  “This could’ve all been avoided,” she repeated.

  “Denise was going to do what Denise was going to do,” Marilyn said.

  Geraldine again looked away and said, “Well, other people are waiting to give their condolences.”

  Marilyn didn’t know what else to say, so she walked away. She was so upset that she couldn’t even stay for the service itself; she just rushed back to her car and drove away. Marilyn tried to give Geraldine the benefit of the doubt—she had just lost her daughter and must be hurting beyond belief. But Geraldine’s words had hurt Marilyn, and she knew she would never forget them for as long as she lived.

  The service itself was held in the church sanctuary, where rows of maple-colored pews faced an elevated altar area set against the backdrop of a brown and tan brick wall with a huge golden cross. The room was lit by a handful of cylindrically shaped light fixtu
res that hung from the ceiling, each of which also had crosses on them. The three caskets were sprinkled with holy water and covered with white palls.

  The Reverend Jared R. Stahler, Denise’s cousin, traveled from New York City to preside over the joint funeral of Denise, Dennis, and Alvin. His voice echoing throughout the high-ceilinged sanctuary, Stahler reflected on how the four brutal murders had stunned the local community.

  “There is no sensible way to explain this horrific act, the killing of three generations of a family and a heroic neighbor,” he said, as reported by the Express-Times.

  “No measure is enough to gauge the tears shed at these deaths,” he continued, according to the Morning Call. “Family and neighborhood, community and valley—we are astounded by these events. Trying to understand how this happened is all consuming.”

  Geraldine spoke on behalf of the family. Still shaken five days later, she had lost the remarks she had prepared for the service and said she would have to instead speak from her heart.

  She described Dennis as a car enthusiast with an even greater passion for spending time with his grandchildren. Geraldine also recalled her former father-in-law Alvin’s military service and his affinity for telling stories about the old days.

  “He was more to me than most fathers could have been to any child,” the Express-Times reported she said. “He was a loving, caring, giving man.”

  It was an emotional speech for Geraldine, but it was even more difficult for her to talk about her daughter. Denise had a generous nature, Geraldine explained, which served her well both as a nurse and as a mother. She spoke about Denise’s love of scrapbooking, spending time with friends, and, most important of all, caring for her two young children.

  “She was well mannered … and always caring for others,” Geraldine said. “She was always there when I needed her.”

  Geraldine finished her comments by reciting a poem from a condolence card.

  “One day we will all meet again,” she said. “That’s what I believe.”

  A handful of the family’s neighbors also gave their remembrances. One recalled how Alvin Marsh once skated on the streets following an ice storm. Another, Nancy Birosik, relayed how Dennis Marsh loved to sit in the shade on the deck that he built.

  “If I heard him say it once, I heard it a million times,” she said. “This was the best neighborhood he ever lived in.”

  Shelly Youwakim, Denise’s cousin, spoke about the dozens of family photos on display at the church that day, especially those of Denise, whose eager smiles brought tears to the eyes of many mourners. Denise had been known for taking numerous photos at gatherings and events. But, Shelly said, for some inexplicable reason Denise did not take any photos during a gathering of family mere days before her death.

  “Maybe she wasn’t supposed to take pictures,” Shelly said to the reporter from the Express-Times. “Maybe we were supposed to remember.”

  Among the mourners were two of Denise’s former romantic partners, Brian Miller and Peter Hoff. Brian, Denise’s two-time former fiancé, had actually had a chance encounter with Denise the day she died, he would later testify. He had been doing some computer troubleshooting side-work at an auto repair shop where Denise happened to be picking up her car. The two seemed to hit it off once again, and Brian offered to take Denise to a concert he had tickets for in July.

  Shortly after she left the auto shop that afternoon, Denise sent him four messages, each of which said, “It was nice seeing you again.” He didn’t write back. They would prove to be the last contact he ever had with her.

  Peter had also seen Denise the day she died. Denise had called him the night before she got home from her trip to the New Jersey shore and asked to get together with him. Peter later testified that they had gone out to two local clubs, and he stayed over at her house that night. He left at seven o’clock the morning. Only a few hours before four people were murdered in that very house, he later recalled.

  Denise and Peter had arranged to get together later that same day, but she never returned the calls he made to her. He went to another Phillies game without her the next day, and on the way home he received a call from his sister that the police wanted to speak to him.

  “I really didn’t want to believe it a hundred percent for sure until I got home and I actually went on my computer, typed her name in and it popped up in front of my face,” he later said in court.

  After the funeral service ended, the caskets were taken outside to the three white hearses awaiting them. A color guard of uniformed veterans, carrying the American flag, stood at attention in honor of Alvin Marsh Jr.

  The three generations of the Marsh family were buried all together later at the Cedar Hill Memorial Park in nearby Hanover Township.

  * * *

  Steven Zernhelt’s funeral, held the next day on July 2, was a smaller affair with no media coverage. The family held calling hours beginning at one o’clock; the funeral began at three o’clock at the local Schisler Funeral Home, just around the corner from the Zernhelt and the Marsh/Merhi homes. Reporters and news vans had come out but, at the request of the Zernhelt family, they maintained a respectful distance down the street and did not bother any of the mourners.

  A large crowd came out for the service, which flattered Janet Zernhelt, but did not surprise her. Even before the funeral, she had experienced a tremendous outpouring of love and affection from people, including some who were total strangers to Janet. She received hundreds of condolence letters after her husband died, including one from an elderly couple Janet hadn’t known who were clients of Steve’s workplace and explained that, when they were having trouble with their air-conditioning, Steve stopped by the house on his own time to help them fix it.

  That was the kind of man Steve was, Janet knew. He was a kind, modest man who would do anything for anyone, especially his children.

  The funeral reminded Janet of so many memories of her late husband. His love of his favorite drink, Mountain Dew. The enormous collection of Steve’s how-to books in the basement. The time that Steve and Ryan rebuilt a truck together, which was later featured in a truck magazine. The hours Janet and Steve would spend together on their boat—a boat she now intended to sell, knowing she couldn’t bear to be in it again without him.

  And then there was all the work that Steve had done on the house they had shared for more than three decades. Steve hadn’t known anything about home improvement in the beginning, but he didn’t want to pay a handyman for that kind of work, so he taught himself. In their time in that house, Steve completely renovated their kitchen, enclosed their porch to add more indoor space, and installed new masonry and landscaping to the backyard. It looked beautiful, like it had been done by a professional.

  It made Janet sad to think of all the work Steve had still planned to do, but now never would. He had wanted to refurbish the hardwood floors, bury a drainpipe in the side yard, clean up the backyard after having removed a pool that had once been there.

  But Janet never gave thought to leaving the house. Some asked her if the memories were too painful for her to stay, and Janet knew if Steve had been killed inside the house, rather than next door, it would have been different. But to Janet, this was still their home together, and she knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Steve’s funeral brought back many memories for Jaime Zernhelt as well. She recalled how her father had paid for both her college education and that of her brothers, yet never spoiled them. She remembered how he would drive three hours just to help them fix something. And she recalled how he was like a father not only to her, but to her friends as well. One time, he picked up Jaime and her friends at college in the middle of a snowstorm just to take them grocery shopping.

  “He was a loving, caring person, he always took good care of me,” Jaime said. “Every moment with him was a good moment. He was always our hero.”

  It was too painful for Janet to speak at the funeral, so Jaime served as the spokesperson for the family. She re
ad a poem she had written about her father, one filled with inside jokes about King Kone, the ice cream shop down the street from the Zernhelts’ home, a place he always loved to take them when they were growing up:

  “If there’s King Kone ice cream cones in heaven, Lord feed my dad a few, but remember, he wouldn’t want a cherry, especially not two. Tell him that I love him and miss him. And when he turns to smile, place a kiss upon each cheek and hold him for a while. Remembering him is easy, I’ll do it every day, but there’s an ache within my heart that will never go away. Husband, father, friend, hero. Always in our hearts.”

  About a week after the funeral, the Zernhelt family announced that they had set up a memorial fund to help with Steve’s burial costs and also to financially assist his family in the future.

  Soon, other benefits were organized, for both the Zernhelt and Merhi/Marsh families. In just a few weeks after the slayings, friends and family put together an event called the Merhi-Zernhelt Community Benefit, which drew one thousand people and raised seventeen thousand dollars in its first year. It has since turned into an annual event, expanded to help the families of other murder victims in Northampton County.

  * * *

  Once the immediate shock of the grisly quadruple murder had started to wear down, media outlets and members of the public alike began to ask the same question: How could it be that Michael Ballard, who had already committed a brutal murder more than eighteen years earlier, had been walking the streets a free man?

  As the local newspapers turned their attention to this question, the details about the circumstances of Ballard’s parole quickly began to emerge.

  As the conclusion of his fifteen-year minimum sentence approached, Ballard was first granted parole by the Pennsylvania Board of Probation and Parole on September 18, 2006. In its notice to Ballard about its decision, the board cited several factors that led to its ruling, including Ballard having expressed remorse for the crimes he committed, a positive recommendation by the state Department of Corrections, Ballard’s completion of institutional programs, and a review of all his mental health reports and behavioral evaluations.