A Perfect Husband (7 page)

It had taken years, but Patricia had come to understand that Michael and Kathleen were entrenched with the children, that they all enjoyed having an American life. Michael was relieved about that. Michael admired Kathleen for seeming to have endless patience in the war that went on during the first few years of their relationship, but finally the whole situation with Patricia, all the fighting, all the struggle with the kids, was over. After so many years of working on things, of working things out, Michael and Kathleen had it all together. Their own relationship was tight. And their life with their patchwork family—their sons, their daughters—had become the ultimate and quintessential American dream.

Not that any of that mattered anymore.

Whatever family wounds there had been, whatever peace Patricia had made with Michael and Kathleen, was no longer relevant. Kathleen had died so quickly, so tragically. Her children, including Caitlin, regardless of having other parents in their lives, regardless of being young adults, would still have a hard time fending for themselves.

Everyone knew that Kathleen worked so hard to keep the Peterson household together. Everyone knew how much Kathleen had gone out of her way for her kids, making five-course family dinners, insisting that all of them sit together for her home-cooked meals But now with Kathleen's death, all any of them could feel was sorrow.

Kathleen was gone, and the Peterson kids would begin to wonder how they would actually manage without her. They had that big house, and there were so many responsibilities to think about. It wasn't that they weren't willing . . . but they had all moved away. Except for Todd, they each had their separate lives in other parts of the country. The kids knew Michael would never be able to keep up such a big household by himself. The kids knew Kathleen had always taken on the family chores, the nitty-gritty work behind the scenes. Kathleen had always done all the social arrangements for the family get-togethers, she had always handled the shopping, the baking, all the extras that only a mom could do.

Now, with Michael all alone, of course, things would be different. Even the basics would be difficult for him. And the frills, the holiday gatherings and charity events, those things would be out of the question.

With Kathleen no longer there to run things, everyone felt ill at ease. Kathleen was the glue that held them all together. Even Michael, who was a fabulous dad to his children, who was loved and respected by all of them, would never be able to equal Kathleen. There was all the love she put into things, all the handmade care that Kathleen devoted to the family. Kathleen was a one-of-a-kind woman, a breadwinner, a supermom and homemaker. Michael would always be the first to tell people that.

“We stayed in this hotel room, and we were all talking about how sad we were,” Caitlin recalled, speaking of the first night back in Durham with Margaret and Martha. “We hadn't seen each other in three months, and we all had those random stories that would pop into our heads about Mom.”

The three sisters wanted to share anecdotes about happy times. They were leaning on their pillows, still distraught, but they needed to calm themselves down. Remembering happy things, the little mottoes Kathleen had, the way she advised them about boys, those were the types of things the girls wanted to talk about. But no matter how many stories they told about shopping sprees, no matter how many comments they would make about their experiences with Kathleen at home in Durham, or with Kathleen in faraway places, like Hong Kong, they still kept coming back to the subject of her shocking death, and about all the police suspicions. They resented the police for intruding into their private lives. They knew their dad had been a public figure in Durham. They knew that the death investigation was standard police procedure. But it still didn't seem fair.

“It's so crazy that they're doing this to our dad,” Margaret complained.

“I don't understand why they're blowing things out of proportion,” Martha blurted. “They're trying to make a big deal about it for no reason.”

“I wish they would just let it go,” Caitlin said. “I wish they would just leave us alone.”

The girls didn't want to talk about the news reports. They knew that Michael had been advised, by his lawyer friends, not to talk to the press. Kerry Sutton, the family friend who was initially representing him, had been angered by the circumstances. Sutton told local reporters that Michael Peterson had been treated like a criminal from the get-go, and because of the so-called police misconduct, Michael had decided to hire a criminal attorney. The girls were aware that their dad had called a top lawyer out of Chapel Hill. But they had no idea what Barry Winston, the attorney, was going to do for Michael. No charges had been filed; there was no foul play being reported.

The girls felt confident that the situation would work itself out. They knew their dad was innocent. There was no question in their minds. They would later make statements to the media to confirm their beliefs.

The following morning, as the girls woke up in their hotel room at the Washington Duke, the three of them were still in shock. They really wanted the whole world to go away. None of them wanted to get out of their beds. They were content to stay bunched together, the three of them just comforting each other. They felt upset, and wanted to grieve in their own quiet way. No throng of mourners, no amount of public accolades for their mom, was going to change the fact that they were confronting her death.

When they were asked by their aunts, Candace and Lori, to help run some errands, to help with funeral arrangements, they weren't really feeling up to it. But the flowers needed to be ordered, and their mom's cemetery plot needed to be chosen. It was all so depressing for the girls. Margaret and Martha were just beside themselves, but Caitlin felt these things had to be handled. Clayton and Todd were busy, holed up in the house with their dad. Caitlin told her sisters that they had no real choice.

The local news, meanwhile, was giving reports about the hazards and injuries that people suffered from stairway falls. One expert noted that in 2001 alone, over 1 million people across America had been treated in hospitals as a result of a slip in a stairway. The local news commented, in particular, about the Petersons' back stairway. They surmised that because it was in such an old house, because the back stairway served as a utility access for the mansion, the stairs where Mrs. Peterson was found were probably very steep.

News reports mentioned that police investigators wouldn't really understand certain factors such as the “orientation gradient,” where people can become disoriented by subtle factors. There was much speculation about things such as the curves in the stairwell, the tread edges, and the handrails. News reporters speculated about the unusual size of the steps, noting that any fall, even a fall down three or four steps, could be very unforgiving. News reports reminded the public of the many factors that might make a person lose their view or vision, especially if the stairwell was dimly lit.

However, the children suspected, even though they hadn't made any public statements, that Kathleen and Michael had been drinking quite heavily on the night of her death....

 

 

On December 12, 2001, the obituary of Kathleen Hunt Peterson appeared in Durham's
Herald-Sun
newspaper. Born in Greensboro, North Carolina, Kathleen had relocated with her family, and had spent her grade-school years in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, near the Amish Country. She'd been voted “Girl of the Year” in high school, and she was quite the star. Not only was she the valedictorian of her class and the president of the debating club, Kathleen was the editor of the school magazine as well. After her graduation in 1971, Kathleen had chosen to attend Duke University, where she had been accepted as the first female student into Duke's School of Engineering. She had been a young woman of great initiative.

In her professional career, Kathleen Peterson had landed executive positions at Pritchard, Merck, and, ultimately, at Nortel Networks. For her achievements at Nortel, Kathleen had received countless awards. As a top executive at Nortel, she had traveled throughout the world, to Russia, China, Europe, and even to Vietnam. Beyond that, Kathleen Peterson was the only person—in the entire Research Triangle—to have received the honor of having a conference room named after her.

Kathleen was survived by her mother, two sisters, her brother, her five children, and her successful novelist husband, Michael. Knowing that Kathleen had so many admirers and supporters, and knowing that Michael held such a place of prominence in the community, the family made sure to mention that they didn't want any money to be spent on flowers. They requested that any donations be made to the Durham Arts Council in Kathleen Peterson's name.

 

 

But behind the scenes, with the police still present outside the mansion, with reporters still snooping for tidbits, things had gotten strange around the Peterson house. Michael had announced that he wasn't going to attend the public viewing at the funeral home. He had called his siblings, Bill, Jack, Ann, and Christensen, and had asked them not to attend Kathleen's wake.

Michael felt that the wake was a place for strangers. He didn't want the family subjected to all the public hoopla. He asked his sister, Ann, to contact the three girls in person. He wanted Ann to knock on their hotel room door, to advise them that the family would hold their own memorial in the privacy of their home.

When Caitlin was told about Michael's request, she called her stepdad immediately. She felt strongly about attending her mother's viewing, about honoring her mother's memory. She told Michael that she wanted to be reminded of all the people who loved her mom. Caitlin knew there were a lot of people who were planning to be there, and she couldn't really understand Michael's thinking.

“I want you to be at the house,” Michael insisted. “I'm not going to the viewing. I don't want to intrude on you, but I would prefer for you to come home to be with me and your brothers and sisters.”

“But I want to go,” Caitlin told him. “I want to see my mother's friends. You know, my dad will be there, and my aunts and everyone.”

“Well, I don't plan to be there. I'm not going because it's not something I believe in. If anything, I might go for the last five minutes,” Michael said, “but it's not something your mother would want.”

Michael asked to talk to Margaret or Martha, and Caitlin watched as Margaret picked up the receiver. Margaret listened to her dad, and didn't say much at all. Martha took the phone next. Neither of them said a word to protest their father's wishes.

But Margaret was visibly upset by Michael's demands. Caitlin could see that Margaret felt awkward, that her older sister wanted to attend the wake. Even though she wasn't saying much, Caitlin could tell that Margaret wasn't happy with Michael's request. Caitlin thought that Michael, as usual, was being too over-protective. But in this case, his reasoning didn't make sense.

“Margaret, you should do what you want to do,” Caitlin urged. “If you want to go to the viewing, these are Mom's friends.”

“But Dad says we should all be at the house, as a family,” Margaret told her. “He wants all of us to be together.”

“This is our Mom,” Caitlin said. “You should do what you want to do.”

But there was no room for further discussion. Caitlin watched her sisters with a sense of confusion and disbelief. Margaret and Martha, whom her mom had raised as true daughters, were planning to honor their dad's decision.

Caitlin spent a lot of time crying at the wake. She had been accompanied by her grandmother Veronica and her aunts Candace and Lori. There was much sadness, and that was compounded by the number of people at the funeral home. There was a long line of people waiting to pay their respects, folks who had known Kathleen for years and years.

As the hours melted away, Caitlin felt she couldn't look at her mom. She had been aware of the dress her mom was wearing, she had chosen the particular coat and pearls to match, but she just couldn't get near the coffin. It wasn't that her mom looked horrifying. In fact, her makeup was wonderful. The day before, her brother Todd had even seen to the final touches.

But finally, as the procession of people began to dwindle, as people started to leave the viewing room, Caitlin began to inch her way over toward her mother. When she actually got close, standing beside her mom, she felt the need to look at all the flowers and photos that had been placed around her. Being close to her mom for the last time, Caitlin suddenly felt comforted by her mother's presence. Caitlin couldn't help but remain there. She absolutely didn't want to leave her mother's side.

With everything else fading into the background, Caitlin stayed frozen, just communing with her mother. Her mom looked at peace. She looked pretty. Instead of feeling afraid, Caitlin loved being there beside her.

Then, the next thing she knew, Caitlin was informed that the funeral home would be closing. As much as it hurt her, Caitlin had to say her good-byes. It was so hard for her to walk away, but Caitlin knew she had to.

As she approached the funeral directors downstairs, ready to make her way out of there, Caitlin was told that Michael had placed a last-minute call. Michael and the rest of the family were on their way down to the wake. The funeral home had agreed to stay open for an extra few minutes. Caitlin was kind of upset about it.

Caitlin had already been through the trauma once. She had been through all the tears with her grandmother, her aunts and uncles, and cousins. But now, for Michael's sake, she would have to relive all of it again. She really didn't want to stay for Michael's arrival, but she had to. It wasn't just for Michael. It was for her brothers and sisters that Caitlin would endure.

Michael and his children arrived, all of them escorted by his brother Bill, and Caitlin joined along, being led upstairs again. By that time, the funeral directors had already taken Kathleen's jewelry off her, those things would be left to Caitlin, and they had already closed off most of the hallway lights.

It felt odd, the way the family had this moment of utter silence at the side of Kathleen's coffin. With the room as cold as ice, Margaret and Martha began to cry. Todd and Clayton looked shaken.

But it was Michael who was unquestionably the most physically upset at the sight of Kathleen. He was just so overcome with grief. He was shaking; then he began sobbing, holding on to the casket, where he knelt near his dear wife. Caitlin felt how much Michael was connected to her mom. She could see his pain. As she reached over to Michael to comfort him, Michael called her the “vision of her mother.” Caitlin began to cry, and the other children stepped back.

Finally it was Caitlin alone at the coffin with her stepdad. Neither one of them had the strength to pull away. It seemed like forever, but Caitlin realized that Michael needed his private time to say good-bye to his wife, that he had to be the last one to see her , so she joined her brothers and sisters, who were already downstairs, waiting outside by the car.

The next day, for the funeral, Caitlin wore a dress that her mom had insisted she buy for her. Caitlin thought it was weird, the way that had worked out. She recalled going shopping over at the mall in Raleigh with her mom, the summer prior. There were two black dresses on sale, stunning dresses really, but Caitlin had liked one, and her mom had liked the other. In the end, Kathleen opted to buy both, even though Caitlin really never expected to wear the more conservative choice.

Yet, suddenly here she was, just months later, wearing that very dress that her mom so dearly loved. It wasn't black, actually, more midnight blue, and Caitlin was glad it was something her mom liked. She was glad that she wasn't wearing the same black sheaths that the rest of the family donned.

But the funeral became surreal, especially for Caitlin. Just as soon as she stepped out of the limo, it didn't matter what anyone wore, or what words were said. It was all just too unbelievable. There was no way for Caitlin to reconcile with the facts. It just didn't seem possible that her mom was never coming back.

For all of them, without doubt, Kathleen's service was painful. Nothing any preacher could say would lessen anyone's shock, would make their hurt go away. All the talk of Heaven, of all the angels in the universe, was of no consolation to the Petersons.

Kathleen's burial at the Maplewood Cemetery, right in the heart of Durham, was even more difficult. Michael hadn't wanted a burial; he had wanted cremation. So it was only the immediate family in attendance, and with no headstone yet to mark the grave, there was this sense of overwhelming disbelief.

Immediately after the burial, the family went over to Manno's, a local home-style restaurant, where they ate a quiet meal. It was an uncomfortable time, really, especially because everyone knew that the police had come back to the Peterson house. The police had been there on the very night of Kathleen's wake; they had served a third search warrant. The Durham police seemed to be so uncaring about the family—they were indecent, really, as far as the Petersons were concerned. The way the police mishandled things, having the audacity to interfere with Kathleen's wake and funeral, it was as though they had no heart.

Most of the family had been made aware that the police had gone to test Kathleen's body prior to her wake. The police had actually served a fourth search warrant at the funeral home. It was unthinkable to them, but the police apparently had reason to administer a sexual assault kit on Kathleen. No one wanted to discuss it. There was an intruder theory that had become a part of the local media reports. It was just unreal to all of them that Kathleen's death would be so full of public speculation and rumor.

Kathleen's sisters, Candace and Lori, were anxious to leave the restaurant as soon as the meal was finished. They were exhausted, still in shock, and wanted no further part of the public attention their sister's death had brought them. Candace and Lori had already checked out of their hotel rooms. They wanted to get back to their lives in Virginia, to feel the safety of their homes, of their own beds. And as much as anything, they were concerned about their poor mom. Veronica, a woman in her eighties, who was going to take turns being hosted by her two remaining daughters.

As the day began winding down, it was Michael and Caitlin who slowly walked Candace, Lori, and the others out to the parking lot. Caitlin was saying very little, but Michael wanted to talk to Veronica, just once more. He wanted to share a private moment with her, to console her about the loss of her daughter, before she left the Durham area.

“I know how much you miss Kathleen. No one knows that as much as I do,” Michael told her, his voice quivering.

“Yes, I miss her. I miss my daughter,” Veronica said, breaking down into tears.

With that, Veronica leaned on Michael's shoulder. As Michael began to cry, Veronica's sobbing became tenfold. Michael was very emotional, trying to tear himself away, not wanting to say good-bye. Michael was feeling increasingly sorry for the whole family, but he was particularly sorry for Kathleen's mom, who never should have had to bury her own beautiful child. Michael promised to call Veronica in a week or two.

As he hugged Veronica one last time, Michael wanted her to know that she was always welcome back to his home. He wanted her to come back to visit him and the kids whenever she felt up to it.

“You know, I've always called you Ronnie,” Michael said. “But now, if it's okay, I'd like to call you Mom.”

The comment made Veronica cry all over again. She was already haunted by the idea that her daughter had died in that great big house. The thought of returning to that home—once filled with such life, such love—was too much for her.

Caitlin couldn't stop crying as she waved good-bye to her grandmother and aunts. Trying to break the sorrow, Candace asked her niece if she'd be up to Virginia to visit sometime soon. Caitlin thought she might drive through Virginia on her way back home from Cornell, so the family would have some kind of get-together.

Caitlin didn't really want to think about it, but Christmas was only two weeks away.