Written in Blood

by Diane Fanning

  MICHAEL PETERSON

  “It’s awful for the people who know them. I guess everybody feels the way I do. You just feel very helpless because you don’t know what to do. I guess there’s nothing anyone can do to help them get through this.”

  –Lou Galifianakis

  30

  Kathleen would not make it to the holiday function for 100 under-privileged children that she’d planned to attend on Sunday, December 9. She would not be present at her business meeting in Toronto the next morning. She would not see the special viewing of The Nutcracker at the Executive Mansion on Wednesday evening. She would never go back to Bali to celebrate her wedding anniversary on June 21. All her plans and her dreams, all her hopes and fears vaporized on that stairway at 1810 Cedar Street.

  Michael Peterson was shut out of his home as the investigators, the district attorney and the medical examiner sought the truth of what happened that night. He did not, however, spend the time alone. His family, Kathleen’s family and his neighbors and friends rallied round him in support. No one gave any indication that they thought Michael was responsible for Kathleen’s death. Two of her siblings kept their negative thoughts private.

  The average person has a difficult time believing that an innocent man would hire an attorney before any charges were filed. Naturally, Peterson raised eyebrows outside of his immediate circle when he lawyered-up within hours of Kathleen’s demise. His first attorney was his long-time friend, Kerry Sutton. She brought Barry Winston into the case. In days, Mike exchanged both of them for the high-powered legal team of David Rudolf and Thomas Maher.

  Rudolf had a stellar reputation as a defense attorney in North Carolina even though he was a transplanted Yankee. He earned his law degree from New York University in 1974. After graduation, he worked as a federal public defender in New York City.

  Rudolf moved South to teach at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and opened a private practice there in 1982. He represented the mail order company, Adam & Eve, against obscenity charges and Robert J. Kelly, Jr., in the Little Rascals Day Care child molestation case—both high-profile cases in North Carolina.

  The spotlight of the nation turned on Rudolf when he defended the Carolina Panthers’ wide receiver, Rae Carruth, against charges that he killed his pregnant girlfriend. Although Carruth was found guilty and sentenced to 18 years in prison, it was on the lesser charges of conspiracy to murder and shooting into an unoccupied vehicle. Rudolf saved Carruth from a possible death sentence.

  His co-counsel in the Peterson case, Thomas Maher, was one of the brightest people to ever practice law in North Carolina. He graduated cum laude with his B.A. in American Culture from Northwestern University near Chicago, Illinois, in 1979. He then went on to law school at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where he performed even better—graduating magna cum laude—in 1982. He clerked for two years at the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals in Chicago. He had been an Adjunct Professor of Law at Duke University since 1990 and at the University of North Carolina since 1992.

  In Rhode Island, voices of the present and echoes of the past tormented Margaret Blair. She found the name of the lead investigator in the Peterson case, Art Holland, on the Internet. Should she call and tell him about her sister? Or should she let it go and not dredge up a past that would surely darken her days?

  She turned, as she had so often in her life, to her trusted friend and priest. He told her that making that phone call was the right thing to do. These were the words Margaret needed to hear. On December 13, she spoke to Investigator Holland. She told him that her sister had died the same way and that Michael Peterson had told her that he was the last person to see Elizabeth Ratliff alive.

  Pat Finn left her last job in Germany a few months earlier. She was settled in Chicago when she heard the news that Michael Peterson was accused of killing his second wife. She was not surprised.

  On the day of Peterson’s arrest, Rudolf and Maher submitted a twenty-page motion for his release on $1 million property bond. Former U.S. Congressman Nick Galifianakis, Michael’s friend and neighbor, agreed to assume responsibility for him and insure that Peterson did not flee. The defense asserted in the motion that Kathleen either died in a drunken fall or was murdered by someone other than her husband.

  He had the best legal team money could buy, but Michael Peterson could not buy his release from jail. Superior Court Judge Ron Stephens did not entertain any testimony or arguments on the afternoon of December 21. He ruled that Peterson would remain in jail without bond until a January 22 hearing, where it would be determined whether the state would seek the death penalty.

  Caitlin Atwater, who had returned to Cornell after the funeral, was now back in Durham. She and Todd Peterson expressed their shock and dismay about Mike’s continued incarceration to the media gathered outside of the courthouse.

  Behind bars, Michael Peterson wrote the “Jailhouse Journals.” His first piece was about Christmas Eve in custody and it dripped with self-pity.

  On Christmas Day, Peterson’s location in the jail dictated that he had no visitation. The five children gathered at 1810 Cedar Street, still in shock. Caitlin spent some time with friends that day. The next morning, she drove to Northern Virginia to visit her two aunts. Veronica Hunt, her 81-year-old grandmother, was there, too. After the funeral, she had gone home with Lori. Now, she was staying at Candace’s house for a while. The death of her daughter hit harder during the holiday season. It was not a time to be at home alone in Florida.

  Caitlin then returned to Durham, where her father picked her up and took her to his home in Washington, North Carolina. She couldn’t bear to stay in any one place for long. She felt an irresistible urge to keep moving.

  On the morning of December 28, Investigators Art Holland and Mike Harris met with Patty Peterson. The language she used in her statement to the officers was odd. She talked about the evening before Liz died. Liz had been at her house for dinner. Instead of telling them that Michael walked Liz and the girls home, she said, “Elizabeth went home and Michael left also.”

  She mentioned that George Ratliff had a life insurance policy when he died. However, when Liz’s assets were listed two years later when Mike filed her will in Texas, there was no reference to these funds at all. Liz had told her family that she had not touched that money, but put it aside for the girls’ education.

  The Zamperinis received a phone call from Bill Peterson after Caitlin left their home. He wanted to inform them that Michael was a practicing bisexual. With the computers in the hands of law enforcement, he knew it was only a matter of time before the police knew. He didn’t want the family to learn about it from a reporter calling to get their reaction.

  On New Year’s Eve, Michael called Candace collect. She motioned for Mark to get on the line. Then she asked Michael, “Are you homosexual?”

  He responded with a denial.

  “Are you bisexual?”

  Again, he answered no. “Why are you asking me this?” he said.

  “Because Bill told us you were bisexual. Is it true?”

  Peterson blustered about his telephone time being up—and then, he was gone. It was the last time Candace ever spoke to Michael.

  Candace’s head pounded with this new revelation. She’d thought Michael was heterosexual. She’d thought he was monogamous. She’d believed that he loved her sister—that he was madly in love with her.

  Her siblings, Steven and Lori, had suspected Michael was responsible since the moment they heard Kathleen was gone. Candace had defended him to them again and again. Now she faced the possibility that Steven and Lori were right. The Michael Peterson she thought she knew did not exist.

  She wondered if Michael and Bill had wanted her to make the funeral arrangements just to keep her out of their hair. She cast a jaundiced eye on the actions and words of all the Peterson men. She suspected they were not being open with her.

  In Rhode Island, Liz Ratliff’s 92-year-old mother Elizabeth McKee rece
ived a belated Christmas greeting from Patty Peterson. It was postmarked January 2 and mailed from Durham.

  I pray you will rest in peace concerning your daughter, Liz, my beloved dearest best friend. She, Elizabeth, died a natural death; her life was not taken from her.

  I held vigil over her body and was with her longer than any other person, official or civilian, German or American. The last days of my dear friend Liz were happy and shared with friends.

  It was an odd missive with an unusual definition of “vigil”. By all other accounts, Patty spent the day of Liz’s death sitting in the kitchen and staring out into space.

  The police called Caitlin at Fred’s house in eastern North Carolina wanting to talk to her. She hesitated to make a commitment to stop by for an interview when she returned to Durham because she was so confused about her feelings toward Mike. No other family member had talked to the police yet. She still subscribed to the principle that Michael was innocent until proven guilty. But the barricaded stairway gnawed at her, stirring up a sense of uneasiness with his story.

  She turned to her father for advice. He said that it could not hurt to talk. And it might help her better understand the situation. He impressed on her the importance of not hiding from problems—because when you avoid them, they only get worse. She agreed to meet with police when she returned.

  On the drive back to Durham with Caitlin, Fred’s cell phone rang. On the line was David Rudolf looking for Caitlin. He told her to be careful what she said to the police. In his assessment, they wanted to drive a wedge between family members and push the family apart. He advised her not to talk to police at all.

  Fred interrupted, “Are you representing Caitlin?”

  “No,” Rudolf replied, “I was just advising her of what was going on.”

  “You’re representing Michael?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are looking out for his interests and his interests only?”

  “Yes,” Rudolf admitted.

  That one word said it all. Caitlin and Fred went directly to the police station and talked to investigators. The police did not supply much information to the two, but they did tell them that they knew it was not a fall. And that they knew they had the right person, but could not yet tell them why.

  The possibilities of what had happened to her mother screeched through Caitlin’s head. She was full of doubt and was no longer comfortable staying with the family on Cedar Street. She picked up her car and headed back up to Northern Virginia.

  Todd Peterson arranged a television interview and wanted all five of the children to talk to the cameras about their dad and how distraught they were that he was in jail. According to Fred Atwater, Todd was belligerent and demanding when he talked with Caitlin.

  Caitlin did not want to participate because she no longer felt certain about her feelings. She had reflected a lot on her relationship with her stepfather. In high school, she thought they had a strong bond—they talked and joked with each other and Michael often gave her good advice. At times, she had balked at sharing him with her mother, but she thought his love for her was genuine, even though he never verbally expressed it. Looking back now, it seemed more like care than love. Michael, she believed, was not a very loving person and she blamed that character flaw on Vietnam.

  The situation between them had taken a dramatic turn when Caitlin went away to college. It was bad enough that he never wanted to come to Ithaca to visit. What really bothered Caitlin was that he tried to talk Kathleen into not visiting her either. Caitlin now reflected on his hairtrigger temper and his frequent bouts of yelling. She thought about this man’s controlling nature, which she had overlooked in the past.

  She did not know what to believe. She only knew that her mother was dead. And no matter how Kathleen had died, Caitlin’s pain would last forever.

  Todd phoned her repeatedly telling her she had to participate in the interview. His pleas sounded more and more like demands with each call.

  When the interview was videotaped, Todd, Clayton, Margaret and Martha were there, along with Clayton’s girlfriend Becky. She was not identified. She did not speak. Some viewers who did not know Caitlin were left with the impression that the silent young woman in the living room was Kathleen’s biological daughter.

  31

  On December 31, the defense submitted a request to move up the bail hearing date. The district attorney agreed a week later. A new date was set for January 14. Three days before the hearing, Durham Superior Court Judge Ronald L. Stephens recused himself from the case on the grounds of conflict of interest. His youngest daughter, now a freshman in college, was in the same high school graduating class as Martha Ratliff. She knew all three of the girls in the Peterson household and had spent considerable time in their home. Visiting Superior Court Judge Henry Hight, Jr., of the Ninth Judicial District was selected to preside.

  Fifty people with candles gathered outside of the Durham County Jail on the evening of Friday, January 11, to demonstrate their support for Michael Peterson. Martha Ratliff carried a sign that read: “FREE OUR FATHER.” Other signs in the crowd included: “A MAN WITH A FAMILY CAN ONLY RUN HOME” and “PETERSON WON’T FLEE.”

  The icy wind filled with whispered words, carried them through the crowd and out to the media, who encircled them: The district attorney will not seek the death penalty. Hardin would not respond to this rumor, reserving his comments for the courtroom the following Monday.

  Michael Peterson could not see the crowd of wellwishers from his cell, but he passed a message out with his son Todd. “I want to thank everyone here and so many others who have shown their support,” Todd read. “I can’t express what it means to me.”

  Another rumor flashed through Durham that weekend. Michael Peterson’s trial had caught the attention of Court TV. The cable network confirmed this story, but said the degree of their interest had not yet been determined.

  Waving and smiling at his friends and neighbors, Mike Peterson entered the courtroom on Monday, January 14, escorted by deputies. He shuffled to his seat in shackles and a blue blazer. He sat between his two lawyers and never uttered a word on his own behalf.

  The judge had letters from Peterson’s supporters. They endorsed Todd’s contention that Kathleen was a heavy drinker, insisted that Michael was no threat to the community and swore that the relationship between Kathleen and Michael was “idyllic.” And, of course, urged Mike’s release from jail.

  Several people testified in person, including former U.S. Representative Nick Galifanakis. Tears coursed down Peterson’s face as they spoke on his behalf.

  District Attorney Hardin responded by presenting autopsy photographs proving, he said, that Kathleen’s death was not an accident. He gave the court a power of attorney document drawn up the day after she died which he suspected was written to allow Michael’s sons to aid in gathering the cash that would enable Peterson to flee the country. He also announced his decision not to seek the death penalty.

  He surprised the courtroom by calling Todd Peterson to the stand. He questioned the witness about the power of attorney. Todd refused to answer, calling the questions baseless and irrelevant.

  Judge Hight told him to respond. After a bit of squabbling and a flash of Todd’s temper, Hight snapped, “Son, quit being smart and answer the doggone question.”

  In the end, the judge released Michael Peterson on $850,000 bond. Mike signed papers on his home to cover the bail, relinquished his passport and agreed not to leave North Carolina.

  A little after 6 P.M., he emerged from the jail carrying his possessions in a plastic bag. He told the gathered members of the press, “I really want to go home to see my kids. This is the first opportunity I have to grieve my wife and I’d really like to have that time.”

  Friends came by the Cedar Street home with groceries and stayed to cry together and reassure one another. Live broadcast media trucks rumbled on the street while reporters looked in on the Christmas tree and its colored lights gleaming from th
e living room window.

  Within a week, Margaret was back at Tulane and Martha returned to the University of San Francisco. Caitlin Atwater was not present for the hearing or the post-jailhouse reunion. In weeks, the one thin remaining thread that supported her belief in Michael Peterson’s innocence would snap.

  32

  On January 26, Mike Peterson filed a claim on Kathleen’s assets with her employer. In ten days, Nortel Networks issued the first check for $29,360—the balance after taxes were deducted from Kathleen’s longterm investment funds. In the past two years, the value of this account had suffered a dramatic drop.

  David Rudolf moved to have Kathleen’s autopsy photos sealed and not released to the public. He claimed that the release violated the privacy of the victim’s family. He lost that battle with this response from the attorney general’s senior deputy on February 8: “The status of autopsy reports as public records was established more than 25 years ago by this office. Since then, it has been the attorney general’s consistent opinion that autopsy reports constitute public records. Our office opined in 1995 that legislation would be the appropriate avenue to clearly exempt autopsy reports from the public records law.” The existing law dictated that only District Attorney Jim Hardin could have the records sealed.

  Three days later, Candace sent a fax to Investigator Holland with a description and a drawing of a possible murder weapon—a blowpoke, a gift Candace gave to her sister years earlier. She described it as a forty-inch-long hollow tube of solid brass. She explained that when you blow through the top, air comes out at the bottom through a small hole. It got airflow into a fire and was strong enough to move logs around in a fireplace.