Monster

by Steve Jackson

  Then, he wasn’t sure how much later, he said he asked Luther “if he did what they said he did. I just asked him if he killed her.” Luther, he said, responded by making threats and admitting, “I shot her in the head.”

  “He said she was yelling. He took her to Central City to calm her down but on the way back she was saying, ‘I’m going to go to the cops and tell them everything about Byron and his brothers.’ And he told me that he pulled off to the side of the road. She got out of the car. He got out of the car. And he shot her in the back of the head, bam, bam, bam.”

  “Did he say what he did with her?” Hall asked.

  “He said he put her by a monument.”

  “What did he do with the gun?”

  “He threw it in the river.”

  Hall skipped ahead to Eerebout’s arrest in September, when Richardson asked about Cher Elder.

  “I said a lot of stuff that night that I shouldn’t have said,” Eerebout recalled. “I told Detective Richardson that I knew what happened to Cher, that I knew who she left with and basically where they went and where Tom went that night. I told him that it was ‘for me to know and you to never find out.’ ”

  He said he didn’t take the original deal because he was afraid of Luther. “He made threats to me and my family.” Those threats included giving him Cher’s clothes, as if to prove that what he had said was true. “Later, he told me that he cut off her finger to get the ring off and that he cut off her lips to make an example to snitches. He also said he needed to go back and dig deeper and put rat poison on it so the animals wouldn’t get it and to put rocks on it so it looked like a rock pile.”

  Sometime afterward, Luther arrived at Eerebout’s mother’s home and said he was heading to the grave that evening. “He picked up a little folding army shovel. Then later that night, around midnight, he came over to my apartment and said he was ‘going to take care of this thing.’ ” Eerebout said he and J.D. then decided to follow Luther into the mountains.

  “Why did you want to do that?” Hall asked.

  “This may sound stupid,” Eerebout said, looking at the jury, “but it was so we would know where it was, because me and J.D., we were going to slide a note under Cher’s family’s door of the location so they could have their daughter back.”

  In the gallery, Cher’s family gasped. Richardson scowled. This note under the door bit was new. And no one believed it. For two years, the Eerebouts had plenty of time to personally or anonymously give Cher’s body to her family. For two years, they’d done nothing.

  Creeping up the hill outside of Empire, Eerebout said he peered through the trees and saw Luther on his hands and knees, digging with the little shovel. “I only watched for a few seconds, then split.”

  On cross-examination, Enwall asked why no one in the army, including at Eerebout’s court martial, seemed to have any record of his head injury.

  Eerebout shrugged. His friend had reported it, otherwise he didn’t know. However, he noted, he was given an honorable discharge from the army for medical reasons.

  But, Enwall said, wasn’t he diagnosed in the army as having an antisocial personality, that he didn’t know right from wrong?

  Eerebout retorted that he was only antisocial to people who were rude to him.

  Enwall went on to question him about his relationship with Cher Elder. “So it was a just a casual sexual relationship?”

  “We had sex once,” Eerebout replied. “In my view we were good friends.”

  “But Gina wanted this business with Cher to stop?” Enwall asked.

  “She never gave me an order stop seeing Cher,” Eerebout said. “But she was upset about it, yes.”

  “You told her that you would take care of the problem?”

  “I told Gina that I would talk to Cher and take care of the situation, yes. Not that I would take care of the problem.”

  “Did Cher do drugs?”

  “No, she did not.”

  “Well, you told Richardson that she was going to see a drug dealer in Central City?”

  “She had a friend over there who was a drug dealer and that’s how she referred to him. But the guy told Karen that he didn’t see her that night.”

  At that point, Munch called a lunch break so that he could rule on an issue in which Enwall wanted to refer to a statement Byron Eerebout had made to Richardson and others about fights he’d been in.

  “I want to show that he’s a violent man,” Enwall said when the jurors were gone. “He’s prone to acts of spontaneous violence.”

  But the same rule that Munch applied to keep Luther’s past out of the trial applied equally to Eerebout’s, the judge ruled. Enwall could refer to any violence directly related to this case, such as the shooting incident, but nothing else.

  With the jurors back, Enwall returned to the night Cher Elder went with Luther to Central City. “Didn’t you say she stuck her head in your door and told you to fuck off?”

  “I thought it was her,” Eerebout shrugged.

  “But isn’t it a fact that you didn’t tell Richardson that she didn’t come back to the apartment until April 1994, a year later?” Enwall asked.

  Eerebout shrugged again. He’d lied about a lot of things.

  “Do you know anything about Gina’s cat’s throat being slit and it being stuck to the side of Gina’s trailer?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Do you remember telling Gina that she might find herself in a shallow grave?”

  “I remember the comment and that it was a warning to her, as in: don’t go to the cops against Tom or you’ll find yourself in a shallow grave.”

  “I see,” Enwall replied, rolling his eyes. “So you were just protecting Tom?”

  Eerebout nodded. “That’s right.”

  As the day wore on, Enwall grew more exasperated. Eerebout, blaming his head injury, couldn’t seem to remember dates or when certain events happened.

  Enwall questioned how he and his brother could have followed Luther in the dead of night to Empire. It was easy, came the reply, they had a fast car and there’s only one road leading up into the mountains and then one road in and out of Empire.

  “Mr. Eerebout, do you have a quick temper?”

  “Yes, I do. It just depends on what it is and who’s saying it.”

  “Mr. Eerebout, your habit when the police questioned you about something was to lie.”

  “No. I just don’t like police officers.”

  “One of the conditions of your deal is that you’re not involved in the killing of Cher Elder isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So if we could prove to the satisfaction of the district attorney and the police that you killed Cher Elder, you think that you wouldn’t go back to prison on the twenty-four years?”

  “Well, I’d go back to prison on the twenty-four years, but I sure wouldn’t go back to prison for killing Cher Elder because I didn’t kill Cher Elder. Tom Luther killed Cher Elder.”

  “We know that’s what you say, Mr. Eerebout. And it’s important to you that Tom Luther be convicted for killing Cher Elder?”

  “It’s not important to me,” Eerebout retorted. “It’s what’s right. You should be punished for your crimes. Just like I was, he should be.”

  “You have no interest in protecting yourself, Mr. Eerebout?”

  “If I did something, then I guess I would have to protect myself, yeah.”

  “Like if you had killed Cher Elder, one would think you might do a lot of things like tell a lot of different lies to the police, mightn’t you?”

  “No. I might have or might not have. I can’t tell you what’s in the future or what could have been or would have been.”

  “Are you telling us that if you killed her that you would come into this courtroom and fess up to it?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Can you tell us if you killed her, you’d lie about it?”

  “I can’t tell you that either?”

  Ha
ll stood to ask Byron Eerebout more questions. He thought it was a mistake for Enwall to have gone so hard after Eerebout as the killer of Cher Elder. Eerebout had an alibi for Saturday and Sunday. Gina Jones, who had already voiced her dislike for her former boyfriend. And Karen Knott, who said she and Cher always got together on Sunday and Monday nights, had pretty much established that Cher disappeared sometime between leaving Central City and Sunday morning.

  It seemed that Southy Healey would have made a better target. However, Healey had no motive or even the opportunity, unless Luther had stopped on the way back from Central City to get him so that they could both kill her.

  But then for all the reasons Eerebout and Healey didn’t fit, Luther did.

  “In all your conversations with Detective Richardson did you tell him the whole truth?” Hall asked Eerebout.

  “No.”

  “Could you keep straight what you told him from one time to another?”

  “No.”

  “When do you think it was that you finally came clean with all of this?”

  “Not until the grand jury and, I’d say, today.” Eerebout replied. “Today is a big part. It’s all getting out finally.”

  At last, Byron Eerebout was told he could step down. His swagger had returned as he passed the defense table. He glanced quickly at Luther with a slight smile on his face. Then he left the courtroom, where he seemed to appreciate being mobbed by the television camera crews.

  A few minutes later, out in the hallway during a break, Earl Elder could only respond to the testimony of his daughter’s former boyfriend with, “Byron gives me a headache.”

  During the break, the attorneys approached Munch with a new concern. The prosecution’s next witness, Hall said, “is distraught.” It was an understatement.

  There had been a major slip-up on the part of the prosecution team and police. A slip-up potentially worse than Byron Eerebout’s comment about Tom Luther and prison. Lost in the concern about the potential mistrial, someone had forgotten to pick up Debrah Snider from her motel that morning.

  Snider was left with no way to get to the courthouse. It had already been a rough night worrying about her testimony the next day and seeing Tom for the first time in nearly nine months.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. She was angry. Here she was, having made the decision to testify against the man she still loved, because she felt the truth was more important, and she was being told that she wouldn’t be allowed to tell the truth. At least, not the whole truth.

  The district attorney had instructed her that she couldn’t mention Tom’s other crimes. She couldn’t say anything about how he viewed women, the comments he made, the pornographic movies where women were raped “and learned to like it.” She wouldn’t be allowed to explain why she was testifying against him. She wanted the truth to come out and, to her, she was being asked to lie.

  Now, she had also been forgotten. She waited with her bags packed for hours before catching a bus to the courthouse. But her troubles didn’t end there. Inside the Taj Mahal, she had purchased a cup of coffee to settle her nerves, but the security officers at the metal detectors, who had no idea who she was, wouldn’t let her through with the drink.

  That’s when it all boiled over. She cursed the guards and made such a fuss that she was physically escorted from the building. It was only when Richardson went looking for her that he discovered the prosecution’s key witness had been tossed out onto the streets.

  Richardson put out a bulletin to all cab drivers and bus drivers to be on the lookout for her. The airport was called and told not to let her board. Finally, while Eerebout was testifying, a bus driver reported that he had taken a woman matching Snider’s description to a mall.

  Police officers were dispatched to find her, which they did, wandering in tears, clutching her plane ticket back to West Virginia. She was within minutes of leaving for the airport and forgetting the whole Cher Elder affair.

  Now she was waiting in the witness room, an emotional wreck. The actions of the security officers had convinced her that what Tom had once told her about his attorneys preparing to portray her as a vindictive bitch was about to come true. They would all be laughing at the crazy woman who loved a man she knew was a killer.

  Cleaver broke in. “Mr. Hall has indicated that the next witness is ... distraught,” she said with a dramatic pause. “I happen to believe that the next witness is somewhat bizarre, and we’re very worried that we’ve gotten through one difficult witness and we may get another one.

  “I hope if we get to any point where we think the woman is not going to follow directions she’s received, such as not revealing Mr. Luther’s criminal history, that we stop. I think it might be helpful if you would tell her that she cannot bring up a variety of things. I’m concerned that she is going to do whatever it is she wants.”

  Munch said he’d be happy to warn Snider not to mention Luther’s history or pending charges. He asked that she be brought into the courtroom

  Debrah marched in, her face red from crying. She swept past the defense table to stand before the judge without looking at Luther, who stared at her.

  “Ms. Snider, I’m Judge Munch, and all that I wanted to chat with you about is just one or two things,” he said. “Court is generally a very stressful place for everybody and most witnesses, and it may well end up being that way for you, too. And very frankly, sometimes when people are being asked questions by lawyers, it’s hard to understand exactly what they mean and exactly what they’re asking.”

  Munch didn’t get a chance to finish. Angrily, Snider cut him off. “Sir, I don’t have a single thing wrong with understanding what people ask me, but if I feel I’m not being respected, I have a problem with my temper.”

  The outburst surprised Munch. “Well, Ms. Snider, then you and I have to talk about something. Okay?”

  But Debrah wasn’t backing down. “And I don’t mind going to jail if that’s what you’re going to warn me about.”

  Munch was puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about if this court doesn’t see that I am respected, and you want to put me in jail for contempt of court, let’s go,” she shouted. “I expect to be respected here by everybody. And I know that that is sometimes a problem.”

  It was Munch’s turn to blush red. He looked at the lawyers. Hall held up his hands in surrender and Cleaver smirked an I-told-you-so. “Counsel, do you have any idea why this woman is going off?” Munch asked.

  It was Snider who answered. “Yes, because I’ve already had a pretty bad day.”

  Munch held up a hand. “Just be quiet. Counsel, either of you have any idea what’s behind this?”

  Hall replied, “Judge, I think this whole matter is a very stressful situation for Ms. Snider.”

  Cleaver added, “I was told that she was escorted out of the courthouse earlier today by security. I don’t know what the details are of that. I also think that Mr. Richardson has told her that we are going to cross-examine her and frame her as a ‘vindictive bitch.’ So I don’t know what she’s expecting.”

  Richardson, who sat grimacing through Snider’s outburst, now looked at the defense attorney angrily. What in the hell was Cleaver talking about? It was Luther, who was now sitting in his seat shaking his head, who had told Debrah about his attorneys’ plans.

  Munch turned to Hall. “Mr. Hall, I’ve really never had a witness who I was just trying to explain the rules tell me to go ahead and put them in jail for contempt. I am not particularly inclined to have her testify today. That’s an unusual reaction from a person.

  “How much of a problem does it create for you if I direct that this witness be called Monday rather than today so that she has a chance to gather her thoughts?”

  “That is no inconvenience to us,” Hall said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m not sure what Ms. Snider’s schedule is. She lives in the state of West Virginia and has flown out here to testify at this trial.”

  Judge t
urned to Debrah. “Ms. Snider, it seems to me, very candidly, you’re quite upset.”

  Debrah nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “I’m not sure it’s the world’s best idea for you to testify in this frame of mind. I’m inclined to have you stay here over the weekend and come back and testify on Monday.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “I also don’t think it makes a lot of sense for us to have this chat right now because I think you’re angry, and I’m not sure why. So we’ll talk about it on Monday morning instead.”

  Again, Debrah nodded. “Fine.”

  Munch left the court muttering and shaking his head.

  Later that evening, Richardson took Snider out to dinner. He knew the trial hung on her keeping it together in front of the jury. It was going to be hard enough to explain Debrah’s motivations over the past three years. If she acted unstable, angry and, quite frankly, vindictive, she’d lose all credibility with the jurors.

  Richardson knew what was bothering her. She had at long last chosen the truth over love, and now she was being told she couldn’t tell the whole truth. In a way, he didn’t blame her.

  “We’ve worked together for three years and all along you’ve told me you wanted to do the right thing,” he said looking into her eyes as they filled with tears. “Now, I’m tired. If you want Thomas Luther to walk away a free man—and honestly, you’re going to have to reach down into your heart and make the decision yourself—then don’t show up for court Monday.”

  It was a huge gamble. He’d given her the keys to the car and told her that as far as he was concerned, she was free to leave. He had driven the wedge between her and Luther as deep as he could, now it was up to her to determine whether she would pull it out or leave it in.

  January 29, 1996

  Scott Richardson didn’t hear from Debrah Snider again that weekend. He couldn’t sleep or think straight. To clear his head, he climbed on his motorcycle and roared into the mountains toward Empire, the cold wind slapping his face.

  He didn’t know whether he had won or lost the gamble until he arrived at the courthouse on Monday morning. Snider was there with her bags, waiting to get in.