Rivinius said she had no problem with the boys clearing up their involvement, but there was something she wanted the police to understand. “We have absolutely—the boys have absolutely—no question in their minds, and I have absolutely none in mine either, that Tom Luther is not involved in this.”
“Okay,” Heylin responded. “That’s a fair statement on your behalf from what you understand. But we’re working from a little bit different set of information and probably you don’t have as much of the information as we do. But that’s why we wanna talk and get it all out on the table.... If Tom Luther has nothing to do with this, then we’ll certainly go in a different direction.”
“It’s just that we will stand by him,” Babe replied, “because we know where he was all during that time.... I mean, he is ... he is a good person. His background may not be the greatest, but Tom Luther is a good person. There’s just absolutely no way that he is involved in anything to do with her disappearance.”
Heylin said he appreciated her cooperation. “And I know this girl’s parents do also,” he added, hoping to prick her conscience.
Rivinius was quiet for a moment before responding. “Well, the boys really cared a great deal about her,” she said. “They thought she was a super nice girl.”
Later, when Heylin told him about the conversation, Richardson responded angrily. If the Eerebout boys cared so much about Cher Elder why were they lying to protect Tom Luther? The Eerebouts were always looking out for number one. His opinion of them didn’t change a couple days later when Gina Jones called.
Jones was frightened. She had moved out of her apartment and was staying with her mother when she heard from her boyfriend. Somebody had broken into her apartment and vandalized it, but that wasn’t the worst. Whoever it was had also caught her pet cat, slit its throat, and pinned it to a wall with a knife. Then the cat-killer had spray-painted a message on the wall: “Bitch, you’ll be next.” Gina and her boyfriend were convinced that it was a warning from Byron Eerebout or Tom Luther because she had talked to Richardson about the Cher Elder case.
An hour later, Gina’s friend Tina Moore called Richardson to tell him about the cat. She had thought that Jones would be too frightened to call. The spray-painter’s use of the word “next” to her indicated “that there was a first, if you know what I mean.”
Moore shuddered, recalling that Byron Eerebout had once tried to set her up on a date with Luther. “I’ve never met Tom, and I don’t want to,” she said. “I’m really glad it wasn’t me. I mean, not to say that I’m glad it was Cher, but I’m glad I didn’t take that step.”
In the few months since he took the Elder case, Richardson had filled three four-inch thick, black, three-ring notebooks with reports and transcribed conversations. He wondered how many more he would have to fill before it was all over.
From Debrah Snider he heard about Luther’s comings and goings. He worried that Luther would someday leave the state for the last time and disappear. Yet, there was nothing he could do about it. Originally, he had resisted arresting Luther for the stolen tools he and Heylin had spotted in his car. If they had taken him in then, he would have “lawyered up” and stopped any chance of getting him to talk again.
At one point, Snider had mentioned, almost in passing, that she believed that Cher Elder had been murdered because she was a police informant. He had checked with various police agencies including his own, but none had ever received any information from Cher about the Eerebouts, Luther, or anyone else for that matter.
He hadn’t wanted to involve the press, but it was Cher’s family who finally forced his hand. In early July, he was contacted by a television reporter who said Rhonda Edwards had called him about the investigation into the disappearance of her daughter. “I understand you have a suspect who was seen with her in Central City?” the reporter asked.
Richardson made a deal. Running the story now could jeopardize the whole case, he told the reporter, but if he’d wait, Richardson would tell him the particulars of what he knew and then when it broke, the reporter would have the complete story. The reporter agreed.
Still, it was obvious that sooner or later some other newshound would sniff out the story. If so, it would be best to use the press for his own ends. He met with Deputy District Attorney Hall and Sgt. Don Girson, his immediate supervisor.
The FBI’s psychological profile of Luther suggested that he’d respond to something he viewed as a “personal thing” between himself and the detective. They’d already seen some evidence of that.
Right now, however, Luther was Mr. Macho, confident and thumbing his nose at them. Richardson was going to have to take him down a peg or two, teach him who was the hunter and who was the hunted. Remembering Luther’s plea from their first meeting to not run his photograph in the newspapers or television, the detective had an idea.
Denver’s television stations and newspapers were invited to attend the July 12 press conference at the Lakewood Police Department. Richardson went to the podium next to a large screen on which first Cher’s, then Luther’s photographs were shown, as was a photograph of Luther’s car.
Richardson said that Cher Elder had been in an argument with her boyfriend, Byron Eerebout, the night she disappeared and that she had then gone to Central City with Thomas Luther. “Byron Eerebout’s father was on the same cell block as Luther, who was in prison for sexual assault.” Then he ran the casino videotape he had seized, pointing out where Luther was following Cher.
“She was last seen by a friend that evening, getting into Thomas Luther’s vehicle at approximately 1:30 A.M. in the casino parking lot,” he said. He paused for a moment to make sure his next point was understood by anyone watching. “And there is nothing to indicate that Cher is alive at this time.”
“Is Luther a suspect?” a reporter shouted out.
A slight smile played on Richardson’s face. Luther’s face was on the screen, next to his own. The press conference was working just as he had hoped.
“Luther was the last person seen with her before she disappeared.”
Scott Richardson received nearly two dozen calls generated by the press conference, most of them worthless.
James Nearen called. He said he had been Luther’s defense attorney for the 1982 sexual assault case. He was living in Douglas County south of Denver and wanted extra patrol cars sent to his neighborhood. “I’m afraid he’ll come after me or my family,” he said. “If you find the body, and he knows he’s going back to prison, he’s goin’ to try to settle old scores. He is not a stable individual.”
Richardson shrugged. The lawyer had known what he was dealing with back in 1982, and had still done his best to get his client off, including downplaying the attack on Mary Brown and the extent of her injuries.
Nearen wanted photographs of Luther to hand out to his family and neighbors. Richardson said he couldn’t help him.
Pamela Smith called to say she had worked for the Silverthorne Police Department when Luther was arrested and that she knew Sue Potter. “She’s scared to death of him.”
A former Summit County deputy, Bill Donahue, called to say he used to transport Luther to court hearings and doctor’s appointments after the 1982 arrest. “He’s violent, vindictive, and very smart.... He had a habit of spitting on cops,” Donahue said.
The Douglas County Sheriff called from his jurisdiction southwest of Denver. They had an unidentified female corpse of about the right age. But after talking to Richardson, they ruled out that the body was Elder’s.
The mother of Tiffany Crawford, Byron Eerebout’s new girlfriend, called. She was afraid for her daughter’s safety but couldn’t talk any sense into the girl. Tiffany refused to talk to the police and after Richardson called in June, she had immediately told Byron, who in turn had gone to see his lawyer.
As Richardson believed, most of the calls generated by the press conference were of little value to the investigation. He was more interested in the press conference as a means of putting pres
sure on Luther. Still, three of the calls got his serious attention.
One was from Mary Brown. She wanted to meet with him. “Luther said he was going to put me in a hole where nobody would find me,” she said. “He thought I was good as dead when he let me go.” They arranged for her to come in the next week.
A reporter with a local television station that had aired the press conference called to say that Byron Eerebout had contacted him. “He said his life has been ruined because he is Luther’s alibi,” Costello said. “I called him back this morning to set up an interview, but he was crying and said his attorney told him not to say anything more.”
A little later, Doug Shepard, a convict in the Canon City prison, called. He said he knew Luther from when they were on the same cell block in 1991. “He said the next time, the girl won’t be around to testify.”
Two days after the press conference, Richardson called Debrah Snider. Luther was asleep in a back bedroom, she said, and she could talk. He asked her response to the press conference, noting she sounded angry with him.
“Ya know, I don’t know what to respond,” she said. “It’s like I still don’t know that he did anything so how can I respond. Given that he’s innocent until proven guilty, ya know, that’s gonna make it really hard for him to be able to get a job or do anything. He feels that you’re trying to run him out of the state.”
Richardson’s response was noncommittal. He was worried that she seemed to be leaning toward Luther again.
“I think he’s just kind of, ya know, waiting to see if this will blow over,” she went on. “He’s real afraid someone’s gonna shoot him now, and I know there are people that will do that. Ya know, just assume that he’s guilty and save the law some money.”
Richardson knew he had to bring her back to the reality of the situation. “If Cher’s just missin’, why the lies?” he repeated for what seemed the hundredth time. “There’s very little hope that she’s alive. You agree?”
“I would probably say you’re correct,” she conceded. “I mean, it sounds like she’s not the kind of person who would have just disappeared.”
Richardson jumped in, “She’s not. She was a twenty-one-year-old kid that was gonna start college that Monday and was probably the most excited she’d been in the last seven years, and she was with Luther up in Central City, and she has completely disappeared.” He paused to let it sink in. “And I can’t come up with a single reason why Cher would come back and take her car and dump it four blocks from Byron’s apartment.”
Snider tried weakly to point out that maybe Cher was just trying to get even with Byron by making it look like something bad had happened to her. Richardson didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Instead, he asked if she was going to tell Luther that he had called.
“I don’t know,” she said. “He told me not to talk to you anymore. That all you’re trying to do is get me to, ya know, say something that’s gonna be incriminating to him... which I don’t know anything that’s incriminating to him.”
Richardson let his attitude on the telephone let her know that he didn’t believe her. “People are beginning to talk,” he said.
“You’d be surprised who’s talkin’. Did Byron or his brothers call about the press conference.”
“Yeah, Byron,” she said. “He was real upset because you brought his father, Skip, into it.”
Richardson decided it was time to appeal to her conscience again, as a mother. “Cher’s family wants to be able to bury their daughter,” he said. “I don’t blame them. There’s a certain sense of ...”
Debrah finished the sentence for him. “Closure.”
“Right. And if some bird called and said, ‘Hey, this is where the body is. That would satisfy them. That’s all they want is to be able to bury her. They don’t care about prosecution or anything else.” He brought up the case of Alie Berrelez. “The grandfather said, ‘At least we know where she is, and that she’s at peace now and with God.’ That’s all Cher’s parents care about. They’re going through total hell.”
Snider was quiet, and Richardson was about to hang up on her when she spoke. “I... I wish you luck on this investigation. It’s like, I hate to see Tom get in trouble but I mean, I don’t believe in murder and hurting people and whatever happens needs to happen.”
Richardson saw it as an opening to again ask if she thought Luther could have killed Cher. Someday he figured he was going to need her at trial, and he had to have her on his side.
“I can’t for the life of me imagine...” Debrah started then stopped, before stammering again, “I’ve seen him with young women. I know how he’s been with me. I don’t believe he would have raped her.”
As she said this, Debrah couldn’t help but remember the other Tom, “bad Tom.” Still she tried to defend him. “I think in... in all goodness of his heart, he went up there trying to console her, and I don’t know what happened after that,” she ended lamely.
“What about Summit County?” Richardson asked. “Can you imagine that? What’s the difference?”
“The difference is the person, and the fact that he was, ya know, he was high on coke.”
Well, Richardson said, what made her think he was drug-free now? She knew he was dealing. Did she think he wasn’t using?
Marijuana, she responded, “But I don’t think anything else.”
Richardson changed the subject. Had she ever heard him make threats? Well, she said, there was a woman counselor when he was in prison, Gloria Greene, he didn’t like. “I’ve heard him make a lot of threatening statements toward her... not that he was gonna do anything but that something should be done to her.”
Snider told him that she had gone with Luther to the public defender’s office in Golden. “They told him not to talk to the police,” she said. “They also told him I would be the number one witness against him.”
For once, Richardson was surprised. Public defender? Luther hadn’t even been charged yet. And why would she be considered the “number one” witness against him?
Debrah ignored the question. Instead, she told him that Luther was angry with her again because she’d told Babe that he was involving her sons in drug deals. He wasn’t talking to her as a result.
“You sound like you were sent to your room,” Richardson said.
“Right.”
“You hear what you’re saying?”
“It’s absurd... it’s insane, I know that.” Debrah sounded close to tears.
Richardson pressed the point. “I’m listening to a forty-year-old woman talking about getting ‘punished’ for being bad.”
“Well, people do that to each other,” Debrah replied. “I mean, we don’t usually say that’s what we’re doing, but that’s what is going on. I’ve lost a lot of faith in the last six months, nothing good ever lasts. Now, Tom’s leavin’. Skip called last night and told him he needed to ‘git outta Dodge.’ He just doesn’t have patience to let things happen and to be broke and to live life like most of us have to live it, with not enough money to meet our bills.”
Snider was crying in earnest. This is the toughest part of the job, Richardson thought. His father had taught him hard lessons about unreciprocated love and he had not forgotten the hurt. “You’re stuck on him aren’t ya, Deb?”
“Fortunately, or unfortunately, yes, I am,” she replied.
“What would your feelings be if I was to come out there tomorrow with a warrant for his arrest for murder?” he asked.
“I don’t have any idea,” she said. “At this point, I would say I’d probably stick by him. I don’t ... I don’t think I can survive it. I felt suicidal for a lot... a lot of years and Tom, believe this or not, Tom’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That should tell you what kind of life I’ve had, and that’s not to say I’m feeling sorry for myself. It’s just he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and when he’s gone, I’m gone, whichever way that happens.”
Snider called Richardson again the next day. There
was something she hadn’t told him, something that was eating at her. “The day you first met Tom, that was April 20, I believe,” she said. “Well, the next day, he went to find out what happened to Cher, or so he said. He talked to this guy named Mortho, who said someone had killed her because she was an informant and cut off her lips and then dumped her body somewhere.”
“How come you never told us this before?” Richardson asked.
“Well, part of it was pressure, and I didn’t want to talk to you about it last night ’cause I think... I feel real... and I apologize for the insanity of caring about my life and then telling you I feel like committing suicide. That’s just part of my pathology. I know it’s crazy, I’m sorry, but anyway, I feel that if Tom—that is, you couldn’t have got this information from anybody else, and if some way or another he heard, I would feel very much at risk. Not necessarily from Tom, but if it’s true they would kill somebody because they think this person has been an informant ...” She let the thought hang a moment before continuing. “I mean, I’d give anything, if Cher is dead, to trade places with her. She had lots to live for and I just feel like things are dead-ended for me.”
It was a couple of days after the press conference when Dennis “Southy” Healey called Snider’s house looking for Tom. After taking the phone, Luther looked at her until she shrugged and walked into another room. He tried to keep his voice hushed, but she could tell he was arguing with Southy.
When he hung up and came looking for her, Luther was angry. He said he wanted to borrow her truck. His car was out in her barn to hide it from the police. “I need to meet Southy in Longmont,” he said, naming a small town about halfway between Denver and Fort Collins.
He was so angry, she refused to let him drive her truck. “I’ll go with you and drive,” she said. As they drove south, they fought, arguing about everything from his drug deals to his continued relationship with ex-convicts like Southy.
Snider pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway until they could both calm down. Luther reached over and yanked the keys from the ignition. She could tell he wanted to hit her, his fists kept clenching and unclenching as his eyes raged. Carefully, using every bit of skill she had learned as a psychiatric nurse, she began talking to him quietly, avoiding the buttons she knew would set him off. She thought she was reaching him when he punched her in the chest with the keys. It hurt, but it was not a hard punch, and he immediately turned to look out his window, saying, “Let’s go. I have to meet Southy.”
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