If You Only Knew (17 page)

CHAPTER 40

BILLIE JEAN ROGERS HAD
two pushy cops sitting inside her home, pressuring her to answer questions about her husband's death she thought she'd answered already. Did she need to remind them that Don's body had been cremated and there had not been an “investigation,” which she was aware of, into his death? The ME, moreover, had ruled Don's death a result of natural causes, and had found nothing out of the ordinary. What were these two cops doing, anyway? Trying to make a case out of nothing?

As she listened to their questions, she certainly believed so.

After Don Zimmerman asked Billie Jean to go through that night once more, she balked at first, but then explained, while pointing, how she had walked in “that door” right there and saw him lying on the floor in the kitchen “right there.”

This would become a major issue for cops as they thought about it and looked at the layout of the house, studied the crime scenes photographs and delved deeper into Billie Jean's financial woes. It was that glass on the table and those shoes in the living room. One could not sit in the chair where that glass and the shoes were located and
not see
Don on the floor inside the kitchen.

“Vonlee,” Zimmerman's partner said, “has indicated that both you and she has participated—”

They were now pointing a finger directly at Billie Jean.

“Now,” Billie Jean said, interrupting, stopping just short of asking them to leave her house at once, “I know
nothing.
”

The cop then finished what he was trying to say, adding, “. . . in
smothering
your husband. Now she says that
you're
the one who did it. She says it was all
your
idea, and you had been wanting to get rid of your husband for some time past. Now, um, we have been in the police force over twenty-five years,” he said, pointing to himself and Zimmerman. “We know there's two sides to this story, okay. We know that [Vonlee] has a little bit of a sordid past. You don't have no criminal history . . . [but] the truth is that your husband was
smothered
to death. . . .”

“I did not smother him,” Billie Jean said.

Zimmerman cleared his throat. It sounded almost like a fake cough. “So . . . I'm getting the impression that you knew something happened that night?”

This was a question, not a statement.

She became irate.
“Impression?
What's the matter with you?” she snapped. “Now you're . . . you're twisting my words.”

They wouldn't let up. “We know that this happened that night here. It wasn't . . . that he just, uh, had too much alcohol. He obviously had a little bit too much alcohol.”

“Well, if it happened here, somebody came in and did it when I was gone,” the widow said.

“Two people . . . 'cause Nicole's saying
she
did it with
you.
”

Billie Jean said there was no way they should believe anything Vonlee said—
not ever.
She was making it all up. Vonlee was known in the family to tell all sorts of stories. She'd get drunk and call back home and spew lies and make up things about people—only to turn around the next day and say none of it was true. She had been intoxicated.

Zimmerman asked why she would do that in this situation. What could possibly be Vonlee's motive to drag herself and her aunt into a murder? Why even tell Danny anything? It was as though Vonlee had wanted to set up a story by telling Danny that her aunt was solely responsible for the murder. She had, in effect, put herself in the same context of being responsible—at least in some respects. Why would she do that if it was not true?

“Why would she tell [her] boyfriend . . . that this happened that night if it
didn't
happen? Why would anybody
ever
do that? She told this guy, and we heard her telling this guy that this happened. . . .”

Billie Jean walked toward the kitchen, stopped, turned around and walked back to where both cops sat. “I don't know,” she said.

They tried to convince her that her niece was singing loud and clear, and that it was going to be in her best interest in the end to come clean. Here was her chance. Right now. At this moment. Give it up and they might be able to help. Hold back and she was on her own from this point forward.

Classic cop chess move.

But Billie Jean wouldn't bite.

So they tried to appeal to her moral compass.

“[Vonlee] can't live with it anymore,” one of them said. “She cannot deal with it on her conscience anymore, and you're going to have a problem with it on
your
conscience.”

“I have nothing on my conscience,” she said clearly and without hesitation. It came out as sincere. If she had been involved, the truth was that she
didn't
care.

“I think you do,” the more assertive Zimmerman said.

“Well, I think I
don't.
”

Both cops kept going back to what Vonlee had told Danny, but Billie Jean didn't seem too jarred by it. She had a definite attitude:
So what? Vonlee said this and that. Big freakin' deal. Where's your evidence?

“I was very good to that man,” Don's widow explained after being accused of not caring about her late husband.

“I know,” Zimmerman said. “You married him twice, right?”

“And he and I had a
good
relationship.”

“Do you have like videotapes of you and him on honeymoon or anything like that?” Zimmerman's partner asked in a tone that indicated he already knew the answer.

“No.”

“Why, though?”

“We didn't have anything like that.”

“Yes, you did,” Zimmerman said snappishly. “'Cause you know why? 'Cause I have them. 'Cause you threw them away shortly after he passed.”

She stared at the cop:
And that is your evidence of murder?

They got stuck on this videotape thing. Billie Jean said she and Don had taken off to Vegas to get married and were “not into” videos.

The detectives disagreed.

“You threw them out several days after his death and Danny picked them up. . . . Now, why would [you] throw out those videotapes if [they were] so important to you? I understand he was a very sick man. A lot of work for you. You did a great job with him.”

The conversation stayed on the videotapes as the two cops could not let it go. Billie Jean seemed genuinely confused by this. She couldn't recall if or when she supposedly threw out a bag of videotapes and Vonlee's boyfriend took them.

As they kept on it, however, Billie Jean admitted that perhaps, yes, she and Don might have videotaped their second walk down the aisle, but what did it have to do with killing him? Then, trying to steer both cops off the videotape thread, she offered, “I swear on my life [Vonlee] had nothing to do with it—and neither did I.”

“[Vonlee]
did,
because [she] is
admitting
to having something to do with it.”

Both cops hinted that Vonlee could be in custody (she wasn't), while not allowing Billie Jean a moment of reprieve. They continually badgered her about the situations that led them to change their focus from a simple death investigation into a complicated murder investigation.

They had Vonlee on tape accusing Billie Jean and admitting her role.

Danny Chahine backed it up.

They pointed to all the money Billie Jean was spending.

They talked about the drinking and gambling.

They knew about the debt Billie Jean had created by gambling.

There were cars and jewelry.

The marriage had been in a bit of shambles.

Vonlee had no reason to lie about any of this. They had not confronted or sought her out. She had essentially admitted this to them without knowing they were listening.

Then it was back to the drinking, this time focused not on Don, but on Billie Jean.

“. . . I don't know if you drink or not?” Zimmerman wondered.

“I
don't
drink,” she said, contrasting what everyone else involved was telling police about her.

“Okay,” one cop started to say, “so . . .”

But he wasn't able to finish. Billie Jean had an admission to make—something she needed to share regarding not only her alleged drinking, but also Don's death.

Both cops waited.

She stared at the carpet and took a sip of water.

CHAPTER 41

BILLIE JEAN ROGERS STARED
at both cops. She was ready to say something important—perhaps finally admit her role in this alleged murder.

“I have a liver problem,” she began. Then: “I . . . I may not live . . . another six months.” She allowed it to hang in the space between them for a minute before adding, “Why would I want to do something like that?”

In other words, if her time was up, why would she ever want to get involved with killing her husband? It made no sense.

Or did it?

Maybe Billie Jean wanted to live it up before she left the planet and knew that killing her husband wouldn't matter. She was dying, anyway.

What came across as interesting about the revelation of Billie Jean perhaps having only months to live was how these two cops reacted to it, responding as if she had made it up. Billie Jean said she was dying, and they missed the opportunity to ask her if she wanted to live it up on Don before she went—hence a motive for taking him out. Instead, they chose to ask her if she had a gambling problem.

“How's your gambling habit? Is it pretty bad?” one of them asked.

“It's not a habit,” she insisted.

“I mean, you
had
a problem.... Your husband had a problem with your gambling, didn't he? I mean, he was onto you about the gambling money?”

“Well, he . . . well, every once in awhile, he was.”

The interview went on and on and on. The detectives kept going back to the money, the insurance claims, the cars Billie Jean bought, the money she gave Vonlee, the casino, how Billie Jean did not seem at all bothered by the fact they were there questioning her.

Follow the money, these cops knew. It always told a story.

She shrugged it off:
You have nothing!

In a way, this was true. If they had anything, she would be answering these questions in metal bracelets downtown. But here they were inside her house, drilling her on everything they'd supposedly developed during their investigation. From where she sat, she looked pretty damn solid.

Didn't matter what Vonlee said.

Didn't matter that they had Vonlee on tape.

Didn't matter that Billie Jean had spent her husband's money.

Didn't matter where she got that money: from a cashed-in mutual fund or his bank accounts.

What mattered was evidence—old-fashioned evidence of murder—where was it?

She became frustrated: “Okay . . . I just don't know what's going on here.”

For another hour, they peppered her with questions about the money and Don's bleeding from the rectum and his drinking and her gambling. They went back and forth, tit for tat, as she answered every single question they put in front of her. It was exhausting just listening to the interview.

Finally, near the end, she said, “You know what? Get realistic. If I was going to do anything like this, listen. If I was going to do something like this, it
certainly
wouldn't be with her. . . .”

“Well,” Zimmerman said, “according to her, it was. . . .”

Billie Jean didn't know how to respond to that.

“Let me ask you this. Honestly, straightforward, honest answer. Have you ever spoken to [Vonlee] in any way, shape or form [saying] that you would pay somebody money to get rid of your husband?”

“No!”

“You never told her that?”

“No.”

“Not even as a joke?”

“No. Never! Absolutely did not.”

They asked again and again.

Then it was back to the money.

“This is your opportunity. If [Vonlee] did it and you're covering for her, this is the time to tell it. Because let me tell you what [she's] going to do.... She's going to get prosecuted, then she's going to turn around and she's going to be a witness against you, because she has the minor part in this thing, okay? She's going to testify against you and put you away as the main culprit in this whole deal. When she is the main culprit, you're sticking up for her and you're going to do the time for it and she's going to be out getting her sex change. Okay?”

Billie Jean said repeatedly that she didn't do anything.

They tried for another half hour and got nowhere.

Zimmerman wanted to ask her one more question as they were preparing to take off. “Billie, you willing to take a polygraph test?”

“Sure,” she said.

They scheduled it for January 6, 9:00
A.M.

She never showed up.

“Billie, are you coming?” Zimmerman asked after calling.

“Family members advised me to get a lawyer before submitting to the test.”

Hanging up the phone, Zimmerman knew there was only one thing left for him to do at this point.

CHAPTER 42

SOME CONSIDERED IT AN
unlucky number, but thirteen law enforcement officials were on hand at 11:25
A.M.
, on January 6, 2001, when a search warrant was issued for Billie Jean and Don's Grenadier residence. With that type of personnel power, you'd expect a meth lab or bomb-making factory to be uncovered in the basement. Yet, this mighty show of force was there to go through and find any incriminating evidence against Billie Jean Rogers (and perhaps Vonlee) inside the home she shared with the husband she had supposedly murdered.

Detective Don Zimmerman and a partner knocked on the door. Zimmerman handed her the warrant, saying, “We're here to search your home for items associated with the homicide of Donald Rogers.”

She let them in.

Zimmerman asked if it was okay for the entire team to come in.

She took a look outside.

“Yes, come on in . . . ,” she said without much ado.

The TPD was now all over Billie Jean and Vonlee, though Billie Jean did not seem too concerned as the investigation took on an entire new level of intensity. Where Vonlee stood on it all was anybody's guess: she was still in Chicago.

In his twenty-nine-item search warrant, Zimmerman outlined the case he believed the TPD had against the two women. Mainly, it consisted of Don's daughter, Danny Chahine's recorded conversations with Vonlee and the money trail that alerted the TPD to a possible homicide, which from there tipped the scales of the medical examiner to say,
“Yeah, you know what? Maybe Don was murdered, now that I think about it.”
Detectives Zimmerman and Tullock had met with the medical examiner again and talked about Don's death in more frank, focused detail during those days after Danny Chahine had come forward. Now that they had the information from the conversations Danny had recorded, it was easy—from their perspective—to put together the scenario that had vaguely shown up on the initial autopsy. Things made sense, in other words, now that they had all the pieces of the puzzle in place: the slight bruising on Don's lips; the amount of alcohol in his system; the fact that one leg was crossed over the other.

Essentially, the TPD needed the medical examiner's office to change its stance on the cause of death. In order to proceed with criminal charges, Zimmerman said later, the cause of death needed to be homicide. It didn't mean the medical examiner's office or the TPD was forcing anything, or trying to convince each other there had been a murder. The fact remained: more information about Don's death had become available—namely, a confession by someone who was there when it happened.

For Don Tullock, he later said in court, Don Rogers's legs being crossed had always bothered him. He thought it to be very odd from the first time he saw it. With twenty-five years on the job, Tullock had relied on instinct. And in this case, his gut said that Don Rogers's killer staged that scene to make it appear as though he had fallen out of a chair onto the ground and died.

Executing this search was an important moment for the TPD, especially for Detectives Zimmerman and Tullock. It meant a judge had agreed that there was enough probable cause to execute a search of Billie Jean's home and, most important for these cops, Don's financial records, much of which they expected to find inside the house. Whenever a spouse kills his or her significant other, it is generally motivated by money or revenge. Documents are the best source for detectives in finding the roots of that motive.

The Rogers widow was cordial as she let everyone in.

One of the first things Zimmerman looked for was Billie Jean's checkbook and ledger. Zimmerman wanted to see what she had been spending her money on, whom she had paid money to and what other interesting factors the ledger might reveal.

“It's right here,” she said.

“It was a financial record, number one,” Zimmerman commented later. “And number two, I was aware that checks pertaining to this case were issued through Bank One. . . .”

Indeed, they had a check made out to Vonlee for $70,260 and signed by Billie Jean. It was dated August 24, 2000. The TPD believed that check was payment either to keep Vonlee's mouth shut or for her participation in the murder—or maybe both.

The TPD had already known about the cars, and the checkbook verified that information and the amount Billie Jean had paid for each.

As Zimmerman looked at the back page inside the cover of Billie Jean's checkbook, he noticed something else. A handwritten note, presumably by Billie Jean:
Vonlee-$100,000.

Other items they secured included:
one plastic drinking glass from kitchen; last will and test[ament] for Don Rogers; death certificate . . . misc. Cadillac papers; two dining room chairs; cardboard box containing misc. documents relating to Donald Rogers.
All of this was taken, along with other nonforensic-type evidence, which amounted to nothing.

For Zimmerman and Tullock, despite the lack of locating any smoking gun that would undeniably nail Billie Jean and Vonlee, it was a matter of time before Billie Jean Rogers would be under arrest for the murder of her husband.