A Perfect Husband (9 page)

A special session of the grand jury was called to convene in Durham on Thursday, December 20, 2001, just eleven days after Kathleen Peterson's death. The grand jurors would hear evidence presented by District Attorney Jim Hardin, who had called the jurors back from their Christmas holiday. If the grand jurors so decided, the homicide investigation could be dropped. But it was also possible that they could issue an indictment, probably that same day, so Peterson and his team were gearing up.

Michael Peterson's friends would continue to talk about how loving and caring Michael was with his wife. From their impressions, he and Kathleen were so close, so very supportive of each other, there was no question that Michael would be cleared of any suspicions. The two of them respected each other. He called her sweetheart. In all the years they were married, he and Kathleen had never ever had a fight.

But on the day the grand jury listened to evidence and testimony from the state's key witnesses, Michael Peterson, the fifty-eight-year-old novelist who had written war stories, the decorated U.S. Marine who had served his country in Vietnam, was charged with first-degree murder in the death of his wife, Kathleen.

After the indictment was publicly announced, DA Jim Hardin was bombarded by calls from the media. The press wondered how serious the case against Michael Peterson really was. They wanted to know if Peterson would be facing the death penalty, but no one could get any answers. Hardin would make no comment about what penalty his office might seek.

Peterson's attorney, David Rudolf, would tell media that his client was not guilty of any criminal offense. Rudolf made comments about the one-sided nature of grand jury proceedings, making remarks to deflate the magnitude of the murder indictment. Rudolf wanted the public to realize that grand juries were held to the “lowest standard possible,” and only needed to find a reasonable cause to believe a crime
might
have been committed. Rudolf felt confident that once Peterson's side of the story was known, his client would be fully exonerated.

But it didn't matter what Rudolf said. The murder indictment was there, and the public was stunned. The vast Research Triangle region was abuzz—everyone in Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill—had their own opinion. Most of the people who lived there were well educated; they were involved in research, industry, and technology. They wondered how the Durham DA, with no witnesses and no murder weapon, would mount a successful case against Peterson.

It would be an entirely circumstantial case, people realized. There didn't seem to be anything that might point to premeditated murder. It was going to be a rough ride for the prosecution, especially with all of Kathleen and Michael's family working so hard, with David Rudolf and his team also fighting, to prove that Kathleen and Michael had the perfect marriage.

For the man who had been indicted, the day turned into a media event. Supporters wrote the local papers, applauding Peterson for hiring a prominent defense attorney. People believed it was a conspiracy, and they wanted Peterson saved from a possible death sentence. As for Peterson, he had always maintained that the American justice system was slanted. Peterson would assure his friends that he wasn't about to be railroaded by police. He felt certain that the DA hadn't done his homework. Peterson wasn't too concerned. If anything, he seemed annoyed about the charge filed against him.

Although grand jury sessions are closed to the public, Michael Peterson's first-degree murder indictment did name the three witnesses who testified.

They were: Art Holland, the lead Durham Police Department investigator in the case; Dr. Deborah Radisch, a state medical examiner out of Chapel Hill; and Duane Deaver, a North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation blood spatter analyst.

So the grand jury had seen the photos of the crime scene. They had reviewed the autopsy and toxicology reports. And they had been given an expert's evaluation about what the various blood patterns in the stairwell meant.

 

 

After learning of the indictment, on the afternoon of December 20, 2001, Mr. Peterson left his house on Cedar Street to head for the Durham County Jail. Driving his tan Jaguar, Peterson lead a caravan of four other vehicles. All the cars moved slowly, driving through the tree-lined streets that gave way to the downtown area of Durham. They passed the historic district, the remnants of former tobacco production, and wound up in an unpaved lot, where they parked across from the jail. It was there, on Mangum Street, that Peterson and his entourage were greeted by members of the press.

Dressed in a sport jacket and looking very dapper, Peterson was flanked by four of his children. His brother Bill and other family friends were there to support Michael as well. Peterson was prepared to make his first public statement since Kathleen's death, and he told the group of reporters that he was an innocent man.

“I whispered her name in my heart a thousand times,” Michael said. “She is there, but I can't stop crying. I would never have done anything to hurt her.”

Not many people realized that Peterson was quoting a portion of an Emily Dickinson poem that had been read aloud at Kathleen's funeral. It was odd, especially to some family insiders who watched Michael on the news, to see him talking about his sorrow, about “whispering her name a thousand times,” stealing the line from a great American poet.

As Michael Peterson ended his short speech, he spoke with a vehemence about the upcoming trial. It was clear now that Peterson was truly ready to fight the legal battle. And he was looking forward to his day of victory.

After a big good-bye to his family, Peterson walked, with his head held high, into the Durham County Jail. A somewhat-short but well-built man, Peterson sat himself down calmly, with his legs crossed. Looking like a man being persecuted, he waited very patiently; he had brought along a Bible and a pair of athletic shoes. For the esteemed novelist, the whole thing was a charade, a great insult. But Peterson did what he was told. He changed out of his expensive jacket and Italian loafers, and put on a regulation orange jumpsuit.

Because of the high-profile nature of the case, Peterson was housed in a single-man cell, in a section typically reserved for people with medical problems. The Durham detention officers said they were trying to keep Mr. Peterson's best interests in mind, but Peterson felt he was being singled out, being further degraded by having been placed in solitary confinement. While there, he began to write a journal, just to keep his mind busy. He wanted to keep a record of all of his thoughts, especially the thoughts of Kathleen. He wanted to remember her when she was still alive, when she was happy and content, and by his side.

Thomas Maher, a partner of David Rudolf who was now part of the team representing Peterson, told reporters that Peterson's family had never seen any problems in the marriage. Maher made statements about the strength of the Petersons' marriage, saying they were “a couple who made each other bloom.” Maher characterized the Petersons as a couple who “finished each other's sentences.”

Bill Peterson told reporters that the family had little chance to grieve “because of the unfair charges by police.” With tears in his eyes, Bill assured the public that his brother had nothing to do with Kathleen's terrible accident. Nick Galifianakis, another supporter of Peterson, and a former U.S. congressman and prominent Durham attorney, told media that he was baffled by the murder charge. Like David Rudolf, Galifianakis was confident that the judicial system would establish his friend's innocence.

The day following Peterson's indictment, David Rudolf went to court to request that his client be released on bond. Rudolf mentioned the “roots” Michael Peterson had put down in the Durham community. He was asserting that a man of such character should not be held in a county jail, that Peterson could be trusted to await trial.

“Others in similar circumstances have been granted release on bond,” Rudolf told the court, believing that Michael Peterson deserved the same treatment. Michael Peterson should be released, David Rudolf insisted, “not because of who he is, but because of how he has lived his life to this point.”

But it was only partially true that Michael Peterson had been regarded as a pillar of the community. Indeed, he did live in one of the largest houses in the city. And he had owned property in Durham for many years, almost from the time he graduated from Duke in 1965. But if Peterson was a man with a following, he was also a man whom people disliked. He was a rebel. He caused trouble. He made people feel uncomfortable at times. He liked to brag about his military service; he liked to mention that he'd earned a Silver Star and a Bronze Star of Valor. Certain people were enamored with him, especially women. But others felt put off by Peterson's superior attitude.

Still, whatever people thought of him, good or bad, there were certain things that no one could deny. Michael Peterson had been successful as a novelist. He had written about Vietnam in three acclaimed novels, including the
New York Times
bestseller
A Time of War
. Beyond that, he had written a biweekly political column for the
Herald-Sun
newspaper that had gained so much attention, it almost led to a populist uprising. And there was the political history Peterson had in Durham. He had run for mayor in 1999, and had been supported most greatly by his wife, Kathleen.

Though Peterson lost in the mayoral primary, he still remained a familiar face in local politics. Because he was a public figure, and because his wife had so much belief in him, Peterson truly had a number of supporters out there. In 2001, Peterson had tried his hand at politics again, running for city council. But the political race became riddled with mudslinging, and in the end, Peterson lost to a longtime incumbent. His defeat was disappointing for Michael and Kathleen, but Peterson wasn't deterred. He would still play a role in politics, his family had rallied around him, and Kathleen, in particular, was ready to do anything to support her husband's ambitions.

Kathleen had known Michael before he ever wrote a best-selling book, before he ever dabbled in politics. Though she hadn't met him until after his return from Vietnam and Germany, Kathleen was convinced that her husband was a man of principle and valor. She didn't need to see his bronze or silver medals to know that he had the courage to take a stand for people. She had watched him for over a decade, and he was a man of conviction, usually rooting for the underdog.

Even from an early age, when Michael had been a law student at the University of North Carolina, he had worked on behalf of a defendant in a famous homosexual sodomy case. The case stirred so much controversy, Michael left UNC law school and became an analyst for a defense consulting firm in Washington DC. And Kathleen admired that about Michael. He had always been a standout. Her husband had always taken the road less traveled. He was a leader, a man to be proud of.

When Peterson's DC firm sent him to Vietnam to conduct studies about how mechanized divisions could win the war, his vision of the war changed. Peterson suddenly developed an attachment to the soldiers fighting the war, and also a cynicism about war correspondents, whom he deemed hypocritical. After witnessing the reports of so many men being killed in action, reports that conflicted with the favorable media stories being played back in the States, Michael Peterson decided to leave his job and join in the combat. He enlisted himself in the marines.

In 1971, Peterson received an honorable discharge with a permanent medical disability. He retired with the rank of captain, and for the next fifteen years, he and his first wife, Patricia, would move with their two sons between Durham, North Carolina, and a small town just outside Frankfurt, Germany. Living near a U.S. Air Force Base outside Frankfurt, Patricia supported the family by working as a Department of Defense teacher, and during that time, Peterson struggled to write his first novel. At first, living among military personnel was good for Michael and Patricia. They had their own established community of Americans, people to whom they were very close. For Patricia and the boys, that was a great support network. For Michael, however, as his writing began to take over his life, the friends around them didn't matter as much. He ultimately didn't care where he chose to write. Living in his fictional world, Peterson had become a loner.

Released in 1983, Peterson's first book,
The Immortal Dragon
, was a novel set in colonial nineteenth-century Vietnam. Though the book was no real success in America, many of his friends from the American Air Force Base admired it. The fact that the military community seemed to admire his writing skills was a perk for him. Michael was complimented on the veracity of his writing style and the vitality he captured in his first war novel. Michael was very happy to hear that. For him, being in print was a dream come true, and it had somehow put him on the map.

While many of the American military personnel in Michael's inner circle enjoyed reading the book, some of his friends, especially his close-knit group in Germany, had concerns about how racy the novel seemed to be. Some people didn't understand the need for so much gratuitous sex and violence in the novel, and they questioned Michael about it. Certain people were even offended by the obscenity in the book. Of course Peterson was cavalier about that. Sex and murder were what people expected. They were the only things that would sell.

It would be seven years before Peterson would put out his second book. But with the novel
A Time of War
, he had hit the big time, earning enough of an advance to buy the Durham mansion. By that time, he was already living with Kathleen, he had received his divorce from Patricia, and he was ecstatic about his good fortune. Life with Kathleen was better than he ever could have imagined. Their lifestyles meshed; their personalities complemented each other. They were finally able to live the life they'd both yearned for, and they were making plans to marry.