She made no attempt to avoid them. By the time Harner brought the Expedition to a stop, Wendi was standing on the driver’s side of their vehicle. Harner rolled down the window. “What are you all doing out here?” she demanded.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I came out to check on a horse,” she said with a defiant ring in her voice.
“You can’t do that,” Harner said. “No one can have access to this ranch at this time.”
Wendi walked away, opened the gate and pulled her car through. Harner and McCormick hesitated. They did not normally have the authority to stop a civilian on private property who refused to obey their instructions.
Before they could take any action, Officer Mabe pulled up. Wendi’s hands were on the gate preparing to pull it shut behind her. Mabe stopped her. “You cannot close that gate. You have to leave the property now.”
“Why? What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“Why are you out here?” he echoed.
“I have some horses on the property and I need to take care of them,” she snapped back, taking out her anger toward the San Angelo Police Department on its representative.
Mabe stood his ground. “Where are your horses?”
Wendi pointed in a southwesterly direction. “Back there. They’re in a pasture near the road.”
“How do you think you’re going to get back there in that car after all this rain?”
“There’s a four-wheeler at the barn. I’ll park the car there and take it to the pasture.” They stared at each other for a moment and Wendi broke the silence. “Okay. I told you why I’m here, so why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
“We’re in the process of getting consent to search from Terrell Sheen or a search warrant from the judge. I’m here to secure the property until we can do a detailed search.”
Wendi’s cool façade slipped. Mabe saw no actual tears in her eyes, but her face contorted as if she were crying, and her voice wavered. Then Mabe heard a strange sound.
Wendi turned toward her car. “Oh, that’s my baby.” She walked over to the Camaro and opened the door.
Mabe saw an infant strapped in a car seat in the back. He didn’t see any rain gear in the car, and neither Wendi nor the baby wore adequate clothing for the day’s weather. He wondered what she’d planned to do with her child when she hopped on to the ATV that was exposed to the elements.
She turned back to Mabe and peppered him with questions about his presence at the ranch.
Mabe patiently explained, repeating, “We are attempting to get authorization to search the ranch.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Why do you need to search the ranch? Only Terrell Sheen and my father have access to it.”
“You need to leave, Doctor Davidson.”
Wendi did not budge.
Mabe continued. “You are welcome to sit here outside of the gate, but you cannot enter the property.”
Without a word, Wendi got into her car and backed it up to the road. Mabe closed the gate and followed her to the intersection of March and Sutton Roads to make sure she didn’t try to access the ranch by the secondary entrance.
Mabe returned to the gate where the Air Force agents waited. Wendi’s appearance at the ranch on that afternoon made it clear: the case was now a criminal investigation of a civilian. The military mission was done. Harner and McCormick stood down, turning the responsibility over to law enforcement. It was time for the civilians to gather the evidence needed to make Wendi Davidson pay for the death of airman Michael Severance.
TWENTY-THREE
Wendi struggled down Sutton Road, her gut clenching every time the rear end of her car fishtailed first one way and then the other in the mud. She had to be approaching panic. She lost her escort when she hit March Road and drove to the cemetery where her grandfather was buried. She didn’t want to face her family, but knew she had to do so—they were now her only hope. Reluctantly, she called them to Grape Creek Cemetery.
Marshall knew something was wrong the moment he saw her. It took a while to get the information from her. Finally she explained that she’d come home, found Michael dead and disposed of his body. She insisted that she’d gotten rid of it because she was certain one of them had killed him and she didn’t want any one of them to get caught.
Marshall Davidson’s first response was to do what any law enforcement official should. He called the police department and eventually arranged for the bizarre meeting at Grape Creek Cemetery.
Meanwhile, Wendi still wanted to cover her tracks. She called her attorney Tim Edwards and told him to terminate the divorce proceedings. Authorities didn’t know what she’d told her lawyer, but whatever it was, it was sufficient to impress him with the sense of urgency. He filed a notice of non-suit in the district court clerk’s office at 8 P.M. that night.
If Judy, Lloyd and Marshall were not involved in Mike’s death or the disposal of his body—as the evidence and their reaction at the cemetery indicated—it had to have been a through-the-looking-glass night for them. Their daughter was pointing a finger of guilt in their faces. At some point, they had to have suspected that Wendi had killed her husband. They might not want to believe it, but the thought had to have crossed their minds.
Judy and Lloyd did not publicly rebuke their son at the graveside that night at the cemetery as Wendi did. They returned to their home to care for their two grandsons and await the arrival of their children. Marshall, however, came back to the house alone, delivering the news of his sister’s incarceration on a charge of tampering with evidence.
“How is she?” Judy asked.
“She’s pretty tore up,” Marshall answered. “She’s crying and hysterical.”
Their shock of that night’s revelations dissipated, leaving in its wake their firm conviction that family always came first. They would do all they could to keep Wendi out of prison. After all, they’d never liked Mike. If they could bring their daughter back home, their despised son-in-law’s death was insignificant.
Throughout Monday, Marshall called Palmer and McGuire to ask about the progress of the search of the ranch, but never talked to either one of them. Palmer wasn’t interested in talking to anyone from the Davidson family until he completed the job at hand. Palmer believed that the diving team would find Mike’s body—but believing was far from knowing. The disparity between the two gnawed at him from the moment he arrived at the ranch at 5:30 A.M.
The morning hours crawled by—each minute stretched longer by doubt and anticipation. Palmer assisted with the arrival and orientation of the diving team and the experts. After the divers hit the water at 10 A.M., Palmer remained close by for a couple of hours, as if with his presence, he could will Michael’s body to reveal itself.
At noon, Palmer went across the ranch to interview hired hand Jose Romero. Eight-and-a-half hours after his arrival on the scene, Palmer got word that the troopers had discovered a body underwater. Was it Michael? It had to be. A tenuous thread of doubt remained as the divers descended with a video camera to provide evidence of identity. But the taping failed.
Palmer climbed into a boat with other members of the search team and headed to the center of the pond. Divers went back down into the water, removing weights and allowing their discovery to rise. The Texas Ranger watched as the back of the body broke the surface of the water. He was shocked to see how well the cold water had preserved the remains, and by how much the face looked like the photographs of Michael Severance.
When the gathering of evidence was completed at 7 P.M., Palmer, Jones and McGuire left the 7777 Ranch and drove over to Lloyd and Judy’s home and delivered the news of the discovery in the stock tank.
The moment the Davidsons learned that a body had been found on Terrell Sheen’s property, they knew that everything now looked worse for Wendi. Palmer informed Marshall that Wendi’s car needed to be secured pending a search of the vehicle. Marshall agreed to drive the Camaro to the Texas Department of Public Safety
offices. From there, Sergeant Jones gave him a ride to the San Angelo Police Department.
Just after 8 o’clock that night, Marshall sat down with Palmer and Jones. He insisted that Wendi had not given him any additional details concerning the disposal of Mike’s body. He also explained the parentage of Wendi’s two sons, adding that when his sister had first been pregnant with Shane, Mike doubted that he was the father. Then, suddenly, he said, they got married.
The fragile peace at the Severance home in Maine began to fracture at 9 P.M. Les was at work. Brinda answered the phone. The caller identified himself as a member of the Air Force and asked to speak to Leslie Severance.
Brinda said that he was not at home and asked to take a message. “We’ll call back. We need to speak to Mr. Severance.”
“Is it about his son?”
“We are only authorized to speak to Leslie Severance.”
Brinda was rattled. She tried to calm her thoughts. It could be nothing more than a bureaucratic detail, and someone else wanting to ask the same questions about Michael’s whereabouts. She tried to convince herself that the call was insignificant. She didn’t have much success.
At 11 P.M., there was a knock at the door. Standing outside were three men in Air Force uniforms. She flashed back to a conversation she’d had with Mike just before his first overseas deployment. “If something bad happens to me, you’ll know when they come to the house,” he warned. “If there are three men, prepare yourself for the worst before you open the door.”
Brinda saw them and did not want to open the door. A small piece of her heart insisted that if she refused to open the door, it would not be true. She swallowed hard and faced them. Again, they asked for Leslie Severance. “Did you find Michael?”
“Are you his mother?”
“No,” she admitted with regret.
“Then we can only speak to Leslie Severance. Where can we find him?”
“He’s at work. But you can’t tell him there. Come in and I’ll call him. I’ll tell him to come home.”
The men stepped inside, but stood right by the door. Brinda picked up the phone and called. “Les, you need to come home.”
“Why, Brinda? What’s wrong?”
“You just need to come home. Now.”
Brinda then called both of her daughters and Mike’s brother, Frank.
Nicole was the first to arrive, then Brooke walked through the door. Both were full of questions, but none of the Air Force officials would provide any answers. Les opened the door, but before he could cross the threshold, one of the men blurted out, “We found your son in a pond.”
Nicole raced to the bathroom and threw up. As she came back to the living room, Frank arrived and received the news. He said nothing. He turned around and left the house. He returned a half hour later with two of his cousins.
Les looked lost. He couldn’t sit down. He couldn’t stand still. He roamed around getting up and down, pacing from one room to the other. Brinda stayed close to him, feeling helpless, knowing there was nothing she could do to ease the pain of this horrible moment.
Nicole got on the telephone and called family members. She didn’t want anyone to learn of Mike’s fate from the newspaper or on the television.
The family stayed up all night, each lost in personal grief. Every one of them wanted to deny the reality of Mike’s death. They had all anticipated this moment, but now that it was here, they didn’t want to believe it. They took some comfort from one another’s presence, but the newness of their pain left them numb—the plunge into the depths of suffering would come when they learned the full horror of Michael’s fate.
TWENTY-FOUR
As soon as Michael’s body arrived at the medical examiner’s office in Lubbock, Dr. Sridhar Natarajan began the autopsy. He performed an exterior examination, first running a complete set of x-rays to search for any evidence of a retained foreign body—like a bullet. Finding none, he moved on to meticulously detailing the outward appearance, enumerating the evidence of decompositional change and the effects of weeks of submersion in water, including the bleaching, wrinkling and sloughing of skin.
He described the items found attached to the body and the ligatures still connected to it. The location of each of the forty-one stab wounds was noted. Then he proceeded through each biological system, remarking on its condition. He preserved samples from the body, preparing some for toxico-logical tests. It would be more than a month before he got back those test results, and more than three before he issued his final report.
Sergeant Jones and Lieutenant Frank Carter of the San Angelo Police Department waited just inside the door of the clinic early Tuesday morning, March 8, 2005. They watched Marshall as he made a series of telephone calls. Texas Ranger Palmer joined them there a few minutes after 7.
When Judy and Lloyd arrived nearly an hour later, Palmer told them, “We will be seeking a search warrant for the clinic. Officers will remain here to ensure that no evidence is disturbed.”
“I need to get the babies’ things,” Judy said.
Palmer allowed her and Marshall to gather clothing, toys and any other items needed for the children, but asked them not to disturb anything else. Judy pulled a push pin from a calendar in the apartment and removed three rings. “Marshall, please remind your mother not to remove any articles that she does not need for the immediate care of the children,” Palmer said.
Marshall whispered to her immediately. Judy placed a woman’s two-ring wedding set and a man’s gold wedding band on the desk in the crowded apartment.
When Detective McGuire arrived at the clinic, Palmer returned to the Texas Rangers’ office to write up the details of the investigation in an affidavit to request authorization for a search warrant for 4240 Sherwood Way and for the 2001 Chevrolet Camaro.
After leaving the clinic, Judy took Tristan to the Children’s Academy child-care center, where Jenny Pittman regarded him as a well-adjusted child. She began to doubt that assessment when Judy and Tristan arrived in tears. When Judy left, her grandson stopped crying, but he later demonstrated the beginnings of compulsive hand-washing. When it was time to line up to wash hands before a snack, Tristan was so over-eager, he cut in front of the other students.
At 3:40 that afternoon, Judge Tom Gossett signed a warrant to search the clinic. Palmer returned to Advanced Animal Care with the document in hand at 4 P.M. They knew Wendi had disposed of Mike’s body; now they needed to find the evidence that confirmed that she was responsible for his death.
Palmer briefed an officer and a detective from the San Angelo Police Department at 4 P.M. He watched crime-scene technicians as they videotaped and photographed the area around the clinic. He noted a section of white rope hanging on a fence behind the building. It appeared to be consistent with one of the ropes found attached to Mike’s body. He made sure it was digitally recorded.
At 5:35, with a uniformed patrol officer posted by the front door of the clinic, the search of the outside area began. Behind the barn were two vehicles, neither one appearing to be in working order. Inside one of them, Palmer spotted a pile of auto parts. In the other, military clothing and gear sat on the seats.
On the ground between the two vehicles, Palmer spotted a tire tool and confiscated it as possible evidence. A crime-scene technician did the same with a cotton apron found a short distance away.
Inside the barn, they took custody of two brake drums, a sleeping bag, bolt cutters, wire and a pair of pliers. The length of white rope was removed from the fence and bagged as evidence.
Detective McGuire inserted a key in the front door of the clinic and the team entered. The crime-scene techs went first, videotaping and photographing every inch of the interior. They recovered a lot of paperwork including documents from on top of the counter, invoice pads and an appointment book.
In the surgery area, Palmer noted several containers of medication, including a bottle of Beuthanasia-D Special. He recovered two pairs of scissors, six controlled substance logs and a set
of bolt cutters. Palmer moved into the pre-operating room where he confiscated a few more pairs of scissors as well as two rolls of monofilament line and a wood-handled knife he found in a drawer.
He bent down and crawled under the sink, where he disconnected and removed the PVC trap from the water line. When he got off the floor, he headed into the examination room, seizing pliers and bandage scissors.
In the residential area, they approached an area with a desk and several shelves. Inside a briefcase found there, they confiscated a plastic knife holster, a sexual history list in Wendi’s handwriting and a number of notes about Jason Burdine, a number of used pregnancy tests and a sexual device shaped like a male organ. They took custody of the three rings left on the desk earlier that day by Judy Davidson.
On one shelf there was a lockbox. Detective McGuire opened it and said, “The last time I was in here, a pistol and a blue-handled boning knife were in this box. They’re not here now.” Those two items were not found anywhere in the building. From the shelves, they confiscated bank statements, photographs, videotapes and a folding knife.
The techs swabbed several suspicious-looking stains and sprayed luminol in the dog kennel area, but found no evidence of blood. They took possession of a stack of patient file folders resting in a laundry basket.
While they searched, Judge Gossett signed two new warrants—one authorizing an investigation of the contents of the computer observed at the clinic, the other for the search of the Chevrolet Camaro belonging to Wendi Davidson. Before leaving the clinic, Palmer took custody of the Compaq laptop computer with its power cord and mouse, an iomega Zip drive and disk and a high speed port hub.
Within fifteen minutes after leaving the premises, Palmer, McGuire and Jones were following a tow truck as it transported Wendi’s car from the Texas DPS office to a sally port at the Tom Green County Jail. Inside the car, officers took possession of a blue spiral notebook, containing conversion tables for medications, and a pair of pliers. A forensic tech processed the exterior for latent prints and vacuumed the trunk to collect any trace evidence. He also removed a stained section of carpet from that area.
A Poisoned Passion Page 10
