Murder In The Heartland Part 7

By the middle of the night, the case was becoming overwhelming-not the investigative end of it (Espey could handle that), but his obligation to the press. Every hour, it seemed, Espey was sending out a news release.

Frustrated, he told a colleague, "If they won't issue an Amber Alert, I'll use the press in place of it."

Finding someone from the media wouldn't be difficult. Looking up the block from his office, Espey could see scores of satellite TV trucks camped in downtown Maryville, lighting up Main Street like a football stadium on game night. Espey had obtained the full cooperation of Sheldon Lyons, the MSHP's public relations official, who a.s.sured him the MSHP would do everything in its power to help him, especially where the press was concerned.

"That was a lot off of my shoulders," remembered Espey. "After I thought about it, I realized I needed the press to help me find the child."

There was still no Amber Alert. Its absence became the broken spoke in the wheel of justice during those crucial first hours. The sheriff continued to push for it, but was repeatedly told no.

The FBI's public relations agent from Washington, DC, soon explained to Espey and Lyons that they "weren't doing this right." His arrival included an incident with Espey's dispatcher. He had walked into the foyer of the sheriff's department, a four-by-eight-foot white tiled room, with vanilla-painted concrete blocks for walls, a door into the office and holding-cell area to the west, and a Plexiglas booth to the north, where the dispatcher spoke through a talkbox to anyone who entered.

Espey's dispatcher looked up as the FBI agent opened the door, took off his sungla.s.ses and black leather gloves, and approached the window. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm with the FBI. This is my case. I'm taking over," said the man, flashing his badge. Espey stepped out of his office.

Quite outspoken and dedicated to her boss, Espey's dispatcher looked at the G-man, bowed her head, and said contentiously, "Yeah, and I'm Daffy Duck."

Nevertheless, before long, the same PR man made his way into Espey's office and a.s.sumed part of the investigation, dictating who was in charge of what and whom, seeming to ignore Espey completely.

The bottom line for Espey was finding the child. A conflict with a member of the FBI held no interest for him. Espey wanted to find the missing child, and nothing else really mattered.

Espey finally told the intruder to get the h.e.l.l out of his office as he slammed the door on his back. Then, he recalled, "I focused on finding the baby."

Espey realized that, in order to get the child back, he might have to allow the PR man into the investigation on some level. Perhaps he could help. Putting the well-being of the child first, Espey wasn't about to refuse more federal help. In truth, Espey was glad to have it-as long as the federal agents didn't get in the way of what he was doing.

"But," Espey told another agent, who had since arrived, "you get rid of that little public relations guy, or I'll have him escorted out of the county." Espey meant what he said. He didn't speak often in anger. But when he did, his words commanded attention.

"This FBI guy," said another law enforcement official, "came in there and got in Ben's face. It was like he had just watched a movie, Die Hard or something, and was trying to be the quintessential FBI agent. The FBI is not like that."

"We got along real good after he left," explained Espey. "The guys that I worked with in the FBI, Kurt Lipanovich and Mickey Roberts, were just great. The best. I liked them a lot. The problem was that little press guy who wanted to come in and tell everybody what to do. He was probably told to do that from Washington, but I didn't want it. Not in my town."

Espey's problems with the FBI, however, wouldn't end there.

28.

One of the most important investigative strategies Ben Espey initiated right away was to involve as many law enforcement agencies as possible, mainly the Missouri Major Case Squad, the MSHP, and a team of crime-scene investigators from the St. Joseph PD.

For Espey, though, every decision he made early on was based solely on the well-being of the child. The murder could be solved in due course-he was certain of that. But the baby could still be alive. She had to come first, whether anyone agreed with him or not.

With frustration building over seeing his Amber Alert requests repeatedly turned down, as it got later in the evening, Espey realized he was fighting the clock, now more than ever. He decided to turn to an old friend, Missouri congressman Sam Graves, who was nearing the end of his second term in office and planning a run for a third.

Espey had known Graves for twelve years. He'd even campaigned with him on the Republican ticket a few times, walking the streets together, waving in parades, knocking on doors, handing out b.u.t.tons and b.u.mper stickers. Graves came from a family rooted in law enforcement; his brother, Todd, had been a U.S. attorney for a number of years. Moreover, Sam supported local law enforcement and was considered an advocate of the sheriff's offices serving his const.i.tuency. A lifelong resident of Missouri's sixth Congressional District, he was popular among the people of Missouri because, some said, he "is one of them," having been a small businessman and a sixth-generation farmer himself. His congressional biography states that Graves, a father of three, "spent his life working to make Missouri a better place to live, work, and raise a family." Besides all that, Bobbie Jo's murder had hit home for Graves: he lived about thirty miles outside Skidmore. Bobbie Jo was like one of his own, Skidmore an adopted hometown.

If anyone could help, Espey knew, it was Sam Graves. Espey knew Graves was a caring human being with morals most public officials seldom displayed. Espey also knew Graves would understand how desperate the situation was. Here was a chance to save a baby. Graves knew how tight the community was and how getting the child back mattered not only to Zeb Stinnett, but to the township as a whole.

"We are fairly good friends," said Espey. "He became my contact person-the only one I could think of when all else failed."

As Espey struggled to come up with a way to convince the MSHP to issue the alert, he phoned Sam Graves at his home late that evening and asked him for help. Espey explained how he had been told repeatedly the case did not meet the criteria for an Amber Alert because authorities did not know the child's hair and eye color, or any other details. "I'm really aggravated, Sam. You have to pull some strings and get this thing done."

Amber Alert guidelines were set in stone, however. What could a congressman do to supersede national policies and procedures? The state of Missouri was still in the process of designing its own Amber Alert standards, thus forcing state officials to fall back on what had been accepted nationally.

"I'm not sure I can get anything done, Ben. The law is the law, you know."

"Fix the d.a.m.n law," Espey said. He was desperate. Hospital officials were telling him the child was likely alive but could be in danger of suffering problems down the road if she wasn't found soon. Additionally, who knew what the child's kidnapper was doing to her?

"Give me two hours and I'll have it done," Graves said next, without hesitation.

"He really helped me," Espey recalled, "at a time when I needed it. Everyone helped, but Sam got things moving for us and got things done right away."

"I've known [Ben Espey] for a while," Graves said later in published reports, "and he was at the end of his rope." In another statement, Graves added, "We've got a problem with our system. n.o.body really thought of this contingency."

Espey's chief argument throughout the night was that a newborn baby "looks different than any other child. In three or four or five days, well, you've got a baby. But a newborn baby, if I say that a baby was born within a few hours, anybody can look at a child and tell it's a newborn."

He couldn't understand why no one else, save for Sam Graves and the people inside his law enforcement circle, couldn't see it the same way.

29.

At around 12:45 A.M. on Friday, Ben Espey finally got his wish.

Later, reflecting on that crucial time near midnight when word came down that the Amber Alert was going out, he said, "I was overwhelmed with the fact that we were going to be able to get this baby back."

It wasn't hard to figure out Sam Graves had pulled out some sort of trump card and used it.

"He could have easily claimed to have called a few people," Espey explained, "called me back and said, 'Look, I called some people and I couldn't get it done.' But Sam took an interest in it. Sam made it happen."

Early the next morning, an official Amber Alert went out to all law enforcement agencies in the immediate area: Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, New Mexico, Nebraska. Sent from the main office of the MSHP, the alert, in part, said police were searching for a suspect who may have blond hair and was possibly driving a red vehicle, "a two-door hatchback, possibly a 1980s or 1990s, Honda or Hyundai." It wasn't clear, the alert continued, if law enforcement was looking for a man or woman, but officials knew the child was female. If anyone spied a man, woman, or couple traveling with a newborn, he or she needed to call in immediately.

Time, of course, was of the utmost importance.

"I believe there is a live eight-month-old fetus out there and we need to find it," Espey told reporters early Friday morning.

No one had an idea then of the number of tips about to flood the system, and the work ahead. It was well after midnight, the sun close to coming up. Espey hadn't sat down or taken a break since finding Bobbie Jo's body. It would be a long morning, he knew, but with any luck, and some help from the public, Bobbie Jo's child would be returned to her family soon.

"It's very hard for me to accept this," Espey told reporters after issuing the alert. "n.o.body here could ever perceive this taking place. To have a fetus taken out of a mother's womb and then an Amber Alert to try to find that child." He shook his head in disbelief. It was obvious the horrifying aspects of the crime and the missing child weighed on Espey. He had bags under his eyes: his skin looked gray and pasty; his lips dry and chalky, as though he were dehydrated.

"It's pretty tragic," continued Espey. "It's really tragic for the family to lose a twenty-three-year-old mother. The only light spot in this is the fact that the baby can be found alive." Espey's deep-set, Caribbean-blue eyes gave him almost a Hollywood veneer. Yet Espey had the faith and will of any spiritual leader that side of the Missouri River. Here was a grown man who welled up with tears at certain points when he spoke about the case to his colleagues and peers.

Later that morning, Espey indicated he believed "more than one person may be involved in the crime." Tips were coming in already. "I don't think one person could do it," he told reporters. "It took one person to choke Bobbie and one to cut her baby out."

As the sun dawned on a new day, he realized he hadn't slept in twenty-four hours. But he sensed that answers were about to come. Patience was the key now to saving Victoria Jo's life.

Wait it out.... Something will come in.

30.

The water tower overlooking downtown Melvern stands at least one hundred feet tall watching over town like one of those four-legged Martian characters on the cover of HG Wells's cla.s.sic War of the Worlds. It is a large steel tub, rusted, with faded black letting, positioned just east of Routes 74 and 31, which intersect at the center of town by the post office and one bank. The roads of Melvern are a mixture of fieldstone, crumbled tar, natural rock, and dirt. While driving along the road leading out of downtown, toward Kevin and Lisa's house to the west, you might see quail pop up out of the brush and scatter like minnows, or finch sail alongside the car like streamers. People look, nod, and go back to their business.

That Friday morning started out crisp and cold. Within hours, this Midwestern town would be exposed to the world as the gruesome details of Bobbie Jo's murder and the kidnapping of her child worked their way into the mainstream press. Reporters were showing up at Skidmore and Maryville, north of Melvern, interviewing neighbors and friends of Bobbie Jo's, trying to prod Ben Espey until he talked, keeping up on the investigation best they could, while sending live television feeds from across the street from Bobbie Jo's small house to points all over.

This was a major international news story now, hitting a nerve with people, reminding many that evil spared no one. If a horror of this magnitude could happen days before Christmas in a town of 342, anything was possible. Facts and evidence were, at best, sketchy, as speculation and rumor ran rampant. But the public reacted to the story with questions that defied answers: What type of person could do such a thing? Was there a human being alive who could butcher a young woman as innocent and pure as Bobbie Jo Stinnett and cut her child from her womb?

After they woke up and got settled a bit, Lisa and Kevin decided to take their new child around town and show her off.

Before she and Kevin left, Lisa took the child out of her crib and sat down in the living room cradling her. With two of her own children around her, getting ready for school, she took out one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and offered it to the baby. The child's eyes hadn't opened yet. A crusty film covering each eyelid needed to be washed off and treated. Lisa tried feeding the newborn for a while, but the baby wasn't interested in feeding at a milkless breast, or she didn't have an appet.i.te.

31.

In Georgia, Kayla Boman was at the house next door as usual, watching her neighbor's daughter before school. Realizing she needed to shake off whatever uncertainties she had about her mom and her new baby sister, she figured she'd log on to the Internet while her neighbor's daughter was getting ready for school and see if any of her siblings were online.

I need to get in touch with someone back home, she told herself.

Kayla's phone calls with her siblings the previous night weighed on her. She needed some sort of answer before leaving for school. Calling home to Melvern might shake off any negative thoughts she had about Mom and her new baby sister. Maybe just sharing in the excitement would help. Things were going to change. Overnight, she had the responsibility of another life in her bloodline, and she loved the feeling, she said, of finally being a big sister.

As soon as she logged on, she noticed Rebecca was online. "Call me," Kayla instant messaged Rebecca.

As she picked up the phone a moment later, she could hear the baby cooing in the background.

"She's so cute, Kayla," Rebecca said.

"I bet."

"You have to see her."

To Kayla, it was the "cutest thing," hearing her little sister cry and make baby sounds in the background as she and Rebecca spoke. The baby, she remembered, sounded content and happy waking up in a household showering her with the warmth of a family environment.

What Kayla didn't know then was that even though the child may have sounded "content," her health status was anything but. By now, she was having a hard time opening her eyes and hadn't been able to extend her eyelids all the way. Furthermore, several bruises on her face and legs were becoming more p.r.o.nounced. Her arms wouldn't extend all the way, and her fingers were a whitish tinged hue of purple, clearly showing signs of circulation problems.

Was anyone noticing this?

Kayla surmised her mom must have made sure the baby was healthy, or she wouldn't have been able to take her home so quickly from the hospital.

"Send me some photos," Kayla asked Rebecca. She was thrilled and reenergized. She wanted to be back home, holding the child, like Rebecca, Ryan, and Alicia had done the night before. She yearned to be a part of what was happening.

"Sure," Rebecca said. "Hold on."

Within a few minutes, Rebecca took out her cell phone, snapped several photographs of the child, then e-mailed them.

Before they hung up, Rebecca put the phone closer to the child. Kayla could again hear her making sounds.

Then Lisa got on the phone.

"Hi, Mom," Kayla said. "Good morning." She was happy for her mother.

"h.e.l.lo, Kayla. How are you?"

As Kayla sat at the computer waiting for the photographs to print out, she had one thought: I'm finally a big sister. She smiled. It made her feel important. She was happy her mom wouldn't be branded a liar, like her dad and her grandmother had been telling her for the past year or more. She'd had her baby. Maybe they could stop all the fighting now.

I'm going to take these photographs to school and brag to everyone I know about my new baby sister.

It was getting late. Kayla made sure her neighbor's daughter was ready for the bus and then walked next door to Auntie Mary's. Mary was still in bed sleeping, but Kayla jumped up on her bed "real fast" and woke her up.

"Look," she said, holding up the photographs. "Isn't she pretty?"

Auntie Mary, just waking up, looked at the pictures with squinted eyes. "Yes, Kayla. She's pretty. Yes."

32.

The child looked like a little Sunday-newspaper model all dressed up in her new outfit. Lisa was proud. She'd spent an hour, it seemed, picking the outfit out. This one here...it's perfect! She had tried to feed the child again, but Victoria Jo didn't want to nurse. So, Lisa dressed her in a pink Winnie-the-Pooh one-piece and got her ready for the day.