Deadly Goals

by Wilt Browning

  “You still need a roommate?” Jeannie said sheepishly, trying to smile. Denise had been running a want-ad for a roommate and had already interviewed several people.

  “What happened to you?” Denise said, reaching out to her, and Jeannie fell crying into her arms.

  “Pernell?” Denise said as she comforted her.

  Jeannie only nodded.

  “It’s time we called the police,” Denise said after Jeannie had sobbed out her story, but Jeannie quickly objected.

  “No, we can’t. He says he can have me killed and if we call the police, I’m afraid he will.”

  “So, what do we do, wait until this happens and maybe he kills you himself the next time?”

  She was beginning to lose patience with Jeannie.

  “I don’t know,” Jeannie said, still sobbing.

  “Well, one thing we can do,” Denise said. “We can move you in here where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  After sleeping for a few hours on Denise’s couch, Jeannie went back to her apartment with Denise to pick up a few things. They circled carefully through the neighborhood first to make certain that Pernell’s car wasn’t there. When Jeannie walked into her bedroom, where Pernell had strewn all the underwear from her clothing drawers, she was quick to spot her personal phonebook lying amidst the clutter. It was open to the B page.

  “He’s got Tony’s number,” Jeannie said.

  Denise knew the implications of that, and she saw the panic rising in Jeannie.

  “This is probably how he got my number, too,” Denise said, “and where he called me from that night.”

  She reached for the telephone and pushed the redial button thinking that the last number called might have been her own and she soon would be hearing her answering machine.

  “Hello,” she said warily when a female voice answered. “Who is this?”

  “Susan,” the voice said.

  “Susan who?”

  “Susan Demos. Who are you trying to reach?”

  “I’m sorry,” Denise said. “Must have dialed the wrong number.” She put the phone back on the cradle.

  “Do you know a Susan Demos?” she asked Jeannie.

  “Who?”

  “Susan Demos.”

  “No.”

  Jeannie picked out a few clothes and other items and left without bothering to clean up the mess. She just wanted away from that place and the memories of the previous night, she told Denise.

  That evening, Jeannie called her mother and told her cheerfully about her trip, failing to mention her homecoming. Almost as an afterthought, she mentioned that she was staying with Denise and was planning to move in with her.

  On Monday, Jeannie asked the telephone company to disconnect her line and send a final bill. That night, she and Denise took boxes to her apartment and began packing. When Denise reached to unplug the telephone and answering machine, she pressed the review button first. The machine beeped to life.

  “Jeannie. You there?” It was Pernell’s voice. “You’d better pick up because I know you’re there…”

  Denise jerked the plug from the wall, silencing the machine.

  Denise left first in her loaded Jeep, and Jeannie followed shortly. Halfway to Denise’s house, Jeannie looked into her rearview mirror and saw a gold Fiero closing fast. The Fiero rode her bumper for a short distance before pulling alongside and swerving toward Jeannie’s Nissan. Jeannie turned sharply right, nearly going off the road but managed to keep control. The Fiero fell back and remained on her bumper, so close that she couldn’t see the headlights. No matter how fast Jeannie went, the Fiero stayed there, until finally it pulled alongside and swerved toward her again, this time so close that she ran off the road and onto a grassy knoll before coming to a stop. Her heart had been pounding with fear, she later told Denise, and she was certain that Pernell would stop and yank her from the car, but she saw the taillights of the Fiero disappearing into the darkness. Shaken, she backed her car onto the road and made her way to Denise’s house.

  At the end of the week, Jeannie got her phone bill and discovered that Pernell had made more than $150 in long distance calls from her phone. The next day, Pernell called, and Jeannie angrily confronted him about the phone bill. She demanded the money and told Pernell that she wasn’t going to tolerate his harassment and brutality any more. Denise listened in disbelief when in answer to a question from Pernell, Jeannie responded, “I’ll have you killed, that’s what!”

  “Why’d you say that?” Denise asked after Jeannie had hung up.

  “I had to do something,” Jeannie answered. “What would you have done?”

  “I don’t know,” Denise said.

  Within 30 minutes of the call, Pernell swore out a criminal warrant in General District Court in Richmond for Jeannie’s arrest. In a brief written report, he charged that Jeannie had “threatened to kill me on phone approx. 2:30 p.m. 2/27/89,” and that she “have assaulted me with 12” army knife recently.”

  He also wrote that “…this lady being under…psychiatric treatment before can and will cause bodily harm to me. Did say she was going to have someone kill me.”

  Jeannie didn’t find out about the warrant until it was served on her at work Monday. Two days later, on March 3, on the advice of a commonwealth’s attorney with whom she had spoken about her problem, Jeannie wrote a cease-and-desist letter to Pernell and mailed it to his place of employment in Richmond.

  This letter is to notify you, Pernell Jefferson, that you are not to harass me in any way therefore by not contacting me by phone or in person at work or at home. Also you are not to have anyone else harass or threaten me or damage any of my personal property. If this occurs legal action will be taken.

  Jeannie knew the letter wouldn’t stop Pernell, and she and Denise began taking extra precautions. They devised a way to use their telephone answering system as an electronic bulletin board, with both leaving messages about any changes in plans. They worked out a routine in which Jeannie would call at the end of her work day to make certain Denise would be at home when she arrived. If Denise were going to be late, Jeannie would go to her parents’ house, or stop to visit Denise’s mother until Denise arrived. When leaving work, Jeannie would arrange for escorts to accompany her to her car in the parking garage at the courthouse. And Denise would delay her morning departures to the photo lab until Jeannie was safely on her way to work.

  Jeannie also decided that she would place weekend calls to Remco in Richmond. If Pernell came to the phone, she would know that she had at least two hours to shop or do her chores without fear. If he were not working, Jeannie would go to her parents’ house and stay.

  The plan quickly went awry, however. Just four days after Jeannie had mailed her cease-and-desist letter, Denise had to stay late at work. When she arrived and didn’t see Jeannie’s car, she assumed that Jeannie was at her parents’ house and began putting away the groceries she had bought. After finishing in the kitchen, she went down the hall to her bedroom to change into something more comfortable. As she passed Jeannie’s bedroom, she noticed that the bed was still rumpled, but Jeannie rarely made her bed. Denise had always thought it strange that someone as careful with appearances as Jeannie would leave her bed unmade for days at a time. Denise, on the other hand, who was never as obsessed with her clothes, makeup and hair as Jeannie, felt she was not ready to begin the day until her bedroom was in perfect order.

  As Denise entered her own room, she realized it was not as she had left it that morning. A chair had been moved, and the bed seemed rumpled, though the cover and pillows still were in place.

  Noticing that the memo light on the answering machine was flashing, an indication that Jeannie had left a message, she pressed the PLAY button.

  “No! Leave me alone!” she suddenly heard Jeannie’s voice screaming from the tape. “You’re ruining my life…Why are you doing this to me?”

  “C’mon, let’s go,” said another voice that Denis
e recognized as Pernell’s. “C’mon, get your purse…”

  “Pernell, let go of me…”

  “You’re going with me. You ready to get in the car?…Let’s go…Let’s go…”

  “You’ve already ruined my life,” Jeannie pleaded. “What else do you want?…Leave me alone, Pernell. I’m not talking to you any more…”

  “Do you want to die right here?” he asked. The question sent a shiver down Denise’s spine.

  She hit the STOP button, picked up the receiver and began dialing the number for the Chesapeake Police.

  “I want to report a kidnapping,” she told the dispatcher.

  An officer was on his way, the dispatcher told her, after quizzing her for basic information.

  Then Denise dialed the Pricketts’ number and Jeannie’s mother answered.

  “Carrie, I think Pernell’s got Jeannie,” she said without bothering even to introduce herself.

  “What do you mean?” Carrie asked. “How do you know?”

  “Jeannie left a message,” Denise said without describing the frightening exchange that had been captured on the telephone message tape.

  “When did you find out?” Carrie asked.

  “When I got home from work a few minutes ago. I’ve called the police.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Carrie said and hung up.

  Denise removed the tape from the answering machine. She found her boom box, which she had not used in years, in the closet. She plugged it in and inserted the tape. She pushed the rewind button to cue the frightening exchange between Jeannie and Pernell for the police. Then she went to the living room and waited.

  She heard a car door being closed in the back driveway off McCosh Avenue and was relieved to see that it was the tall construction worker named Jerome to whom she recently had rented a fourth bedroom that had been added to the house while she was still married. He had started across the back porch to his room when she called to him.

  “I think Jeannie’s been kidnapped,” Denise said.

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “It’s all right here,” she said, patting her boom box. “The police are on the way.”

  Shortly, the headlights from a police car illuminated the front of the house as the uniformed officer turned around and parked on the street in front. Denise met him at the door.

  “Somebody’s missing?” said officer Charles Winslow.

  “My roommate.” Denise quickly told him about finding the tape.

  “I can play it for you,” she offered.

  Winslow listened intently to more than seven minutes of Jeannie’s terror. Denise wept as the tape played. The recording ended in a crescendo of screams, followed by 20 seconds of silence and a low, mournful female sob.

  Winslow asked to hear it again, frequently getting her to stop and rewind it to repeat particular sections.

  “Who is this Pernell?” he asked, and Denise told him how Pernell had assaulted Jeannie and had been stalking and harassing her.

  Winslow went to his squad car and requested a detective before returning to the house to look around. Denise was sitting on the couch, limp with shock and fear for Jeannie, when Winslow asked her to come to the den at the back of the house.

  “You know when this happened?” he asked.

  The floor was covered with shattered glass from the door to the back porch.

  “I don’t know,” Denise answered. “This is the first time I’ve been in here since I got home. All I know is it wasn’t that way when I went to work this morning.”

  Denise was impressed with Winslow, she recalled years later. “You could tell he was worried, like he cared, like he was a real person, not just a police officer doing a job.”

  Upon learning that no detective was immediately available, Winslow said that he would take the tape to the police station, discuss the situation with a detective and return.

  Where were the Pricketts? Denise wondered after he had left. But more importantly, where was Jeannie? And was she still alive?

  Ben was angry as he drove toward Denise’s house as fast as possible in the heavy, frustrating traffic. Angry at Pernell. Angry at his daughter for getting involved with such a person. Angry at the traffic that now blocked him from getting to Denise’s house and finding out what had happened.

  Denise thought the Pricketts would never arrive.

  While she waited anxiously for them, the phone rang, jarring her from her thoughts. She rushed to answer and heard only sobbing from the receiver.

  “Jeannie!?” she said. “Jeannie?”

  “Yes,” came a whisper.

  “Where are you?” Denise asked. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  No response was forthcoming.

  “Jeannie!” Denise said forcefully.

  “Yes.” Another strained whisper.

  “Are you in Chesapeake?”

  “No.”

  “Are you in Norfolk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay,” Jeannie answered, but her voice said differently and Denise realized that Pernell must be listening.

  Silence followed until Denise said, “Jeannie, I’m here,” hoping to encourage her to talk. Still nothing came from Jeannie.

  “Jeannie,” Denise said firmly, “you tell Pernell that I’ve got enough evidence to put him away. I’ve got everything that happened here in this house this afternoon on tape.”

  Suddenly, the line went dead, confirmation to Denise that Pernell had been listening. She placed the receiver back in the cradle and stood staring at the phone, uncertain what to do next, wondering if she had done the right thing in mentioning the tape. She wished the Pricketts would arrive.

  She jumped when the phone rang again.

  “Jeannie!” she said into the receiver.

  “Pernell wants to know how you have it all on tape,” Jeannie said in a flat, emotionless voice.

  “Y’all must’ve hit the phone, or something, because the memo button was on.”

  “I didn’t leave a message,” Jeannie said.

  “You left a message,” Denise assured her. “The whole story. Everything’s on the tape. And you can hear Pernell on the tape, too.”

  “But we were never in your bedroom,” Jeannie said.

  “Well, somebody was in my bedroom because it’s all on tape, and you tell him I’ve got it and I’ll put him away.”

  Again the line went dead.

  Denise sank onto the edge of her bed to stay near the telephone. Big, easygoing Jerome stood at the door to her room, virtually filling the frame. Denise was glad he was there. He asked no questions, only waited. A few minutes later, just as Denise had expected, the phone rang again.

  “I’m on my way home,” Jeannie said. “Don’t call the police.”

  “I’ve…” Denise started to say, but now she could only hear the dial tone buzzing in her ear.

  Finally, Ben and Carrie were there, the front end of the Ford dipping as Ben hit the brakes in front of the modest house. He and Carrie hurried across the yard. Denise had heard them arrive and met them at the door.

  “She’s on the way home,” Denise told Jeannie’s frantic parents. Inside, she related what had happened but did not go into detail about the contents of the tape the police officer had taken. The tape had been difficult to listen to for Denise, and she saw no need to distress the Pricketts with its frightening details, especially Ben.

  Still, after listening to Denise and seeing the shattered glass from the back door, Ben became even angrier.

  “I’ll find him and I’ll kill him if he’s hurt Jeannie,” he said.

  It was nearly half an hour before Jeannie’s car pulled into the driveway, and everybody rushed outside. Jeannie’s hair was wildly disheveled, her clothes soiled and torn, her face battered.

  “She was scared to death,” Ben said years later, remembering the scene a father could never forget. “She was pale looking, and she had bruises on her neck.” Jeannie
said nothing as she rushed sobbing into her mother’s arms.

  Still keeping her silence, she hugged her father, all the while looking with frightened eyes past them to Denise.

  “I have to talk to you,” she finally said to Denise, speaking for the first time. She led the way to Denise’s bedroom at the far end of the hall, clearly not wanting her parents to know what she had to say.

  “Pernell let me go to talk you out of going to the police,” Jeannie said, closing the door as she did. “He said he’d do something to you and Dawn if you do.”

  The thought that this violence could spread to her child sent a chill down Denise’s spine.

  “Jeannie, it’s too late,” Denise said. “The police already have the tape.”

  “There really was a tape?” Jeannie said.

  “Yes, there really was a tape.”

  19.

  No More Miracles

  WHILE JEANNIE AND DENISE TALKED IN DENISE’S bedroom, her father pondered what he should do. His instinct was to find Pernell and take care of the matter himself, but he didn’t know where to begin to look for him. He was still considering his options when Jeannie returned from the bedroom. She was moving as if in a daze, and as he watched her, Ben suddenly knew what he had to do.

  “It’s time to go,” he said to her, trying to sound strong.

  “Go where?” Jeannie asked.

  “To the police station.”

  “I can’t,” she protested.

  “Jeannie, you have to.”

  Too weak and defeated to resist, she nodded her acquiescence. Ben put his arm around her and walked her to his car. Denise came with them. At the Chesapeake Police Department, Jeannie was taken to an interview room to talk with Charles Winslow, the officer who had come to the house earlier. After half an hour, Winslow and Jeannie emerged and Winslow took photos showing Jeannie’s bruises.