Love, Lies, and Murder (10 page)

“Okay. And that’s one of the reasons he was there; is that correct?”

“I’m sure that’s—okay. One of the reasons.”

“And when you found out that the police had come and the hard drive was ripped out, and as you told channel four in an interview, that was just an enigma to you.”

“Yeah.”

“Just a real mystery.”

“Yeah.”

“Surely, you asked your father, ‘Has anybody been in the house this weekend?’”

“Right.”

“You did that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“Said, ‘Not to my knowledge.’ But he wasn’t there the whole time.”

“Did he tell you that?” Jones asked.

“Yeah, he said, ‘Not to my knowledge.’”

“Did he tell you he had not been there the whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he tell you when he was gone?”

“Not all the times,” Perry responded. “I didn’t inquire as to every hour that he was gone. My dad can’t remember twenty minutes ago, let alone where he was on Saturday if you ask him on Thursday.”

“Well, look,” Jones interjected. “You knew when this computer was broken into and the hard drive was ripped out, that there was a serious issue, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And did it occur to you that whoever ripped out the computer might have had something to do with Janet’s murder or her disappearance?”

“Possible inference,” Perry replied. “One of many.”

“Well, did that occur to you when you first learned the computer had been torn out?”

“Absolutely.”

“So you went into detail with your father about who might have gotten into the house while he was there to watch it; is that correct?”

“The answer to your question, Mr. Jones, again, I’m really not trying to be evasive, is that my—when I learned that the hard drive was gone, it was at the time that I had a loud and bellowing police detective in my face with approximately seventy to a hundred paramilitary types swarming all over my house. It was certainly an enigma to me. When it all calmed down, things were very, very different in my life and there was a profound change. And I asked my father, I’m sure, ‘What’s going on?’ And I’m sure the answer was, ‘No idea.’”

“What did he say?” Jones persisted.

“Said, ‘I was here the whole time, except I wasn’t,’” Perry replied. “‘I went out to have coffee with the guys at synagogue. I went to the grocery store.’ I know he said he went off one evening to watch a ball game and had a beer at a bar. I mean, my dad was not consigned to the house. He was not shackled to the house. He was doing me a favor by staying there to keep an eye on things as well as doing me a favor by not costing me money to have to bring him up to Chicago for a time that he really didn’t need to go up there for. So, my father came and went freely.”

“Did he tell you he left the house locked?” Jones asked.

“I didn’t even ask him.”

“Well, if he’s there because you’re concerned about the safety of the house, among other reasons, did your father leave the house locked when he wasn’t there?”

“Mr. Jones, I don’t know the answer to that question.”

“It just never occurred to you to ask him that?”

“No, it always occurred to me that he would have left the house locked.”

“Do you believe he left the house locked?”

“I think that it’s very easy that my father could have left that house unlocked. Very easy. My dad very easily could have just—it’s a very secluded spot. Have you ever been to my house?”

“Go ahead and answer the question.”

“I am. You asked me, do I believe he could have left the house unlocked? My father could have easily left the house unlocked.”

“Did you tell your father how to work the alarm system on the house?”

“I don’t recollect.”

“Who had keys to your house?”

“Lawrence Levine, Carolyn Levine, my dad, me, Janet. That’s probably it.”

 

 

Jones moved on with his line of inquiry into the matter of Perry’s telephone call to his brother on the night that Janet disappeared.

“What did you tell your brother when you talked to him on August fifteenth at about nine o’clock at night? Now, do you understand my question?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s real simple.”

“Yes, sir. I understand your question.”

“It’s the third time. Answer it. You know, you don’t have to look at your lawyer. Answer the question. He’ll say something if he wants to.”

“Mr. Jones, he’s my lawyer. I’ll look at him if I want to. I’ll be happy to answer your question—I called my brother up on the phone and I said, ‘Ronnie, she’s done it. She’s pissed off. She’s packed her bags and she’s left.’ My brother responded, ‘Perry, just don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about it at all. Whenever she comes back, she’ll come back. If she’s not back, call me in the morning.’ I felt he was a little brusque with me, kind of hung up the phone on me, and that was it. That was the tenor of the conversation. May have lasted a minute. May have lasted three minutes. But it was a short conversation. ‘Ronnie, Janet’s gone. She’s pissed. She’s taken her bags. She’s driven off. And I’m worried. What should I do?’”

“Why were you worried?”

“Because my wife had never packed her bags and driven off before. She’s stormed out of the house and driven off before. Squealing tires and all kind of stuff, but she’s never packed her bag. And she also handed me a note that said ‘twelve-day vacation’ on the top, Mr. Jones. So, I was a little bit worried this time than normal.”

“And you have related everything—you’ve told us everything you can remember you told him or he told you in that conversation,” Jones asked.

“To the best of my recollection, Mr. Jones, it was a very brief conversation,” Perry responded. “My brother just told me to calm down and relax and don’t be worried about it, and if she wasn’t back, call him in the morning. The same thing that my sister told me and the same thing that Lawrence and Carolyn Levine told me around midnight.”

“Did you leave home that night at all?”

“No, sir. I had two children upstairs asleep.”

“And you never left the house between the time that you claim your wife left and the next morning; is that right?”

“That’s correct. I did not leave that house again until ten or ten-thirty the next morning, when Ella Goldshmid came.”

“And this was not a fifteen- or twenty-minute conversation you had with your brother.”

“No, sir. I don’t believe it was.”

“Okay. You’ve told us it was a one- to three-minute conversation; is that right?”

“It was a short conversation, Mr. Jones.”

“And you didn’t tell your brother anything to the effect that ‘Janet and I had an argument and I’ve killed her, and what should I do?’”

“Mr. Jones, your question is offensive and the answer to it is no.”

“When did you talk to your sister?”

“Almost immediately thereafter.”

“Tell me what you said to your sister.”

“Almost the exact same thing, Mr. Jones.”

“What did she say to you?”

“Almost the exact same thing as my brother. Well, you know, she has a little bit different feel for Janet. She’s not as charitable toward Janet. Her response was ‘Good. Maybe she’ll, you know, go off and have a nice weekend and get her head together, come back. But don’t worry about it. Talk to you tomorrow.’”

“Another minute, or two, conversation,” Jones said matter-of-factly.

“No, Mr. Jones. Again, my conversation with my brother is not a minute or two. It is, I don’t know how long it was, Mr. Jones, but it was a short conversation.”

“With your sister, was it a conversation more than a minute or two?”

“Again, Mr. Jones, I don’t specifically recollect, but it was a short conversation.”

“Do you possess any expertise in martial arts?” Jones changed the subject again.

“Currently, no,” Perry responded. “Historically, yes. I probably can’t lift my leg past my hip as we sit here today.”

“Are you a black belt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What degree?”

“Third-degree provisional.”

“What system?”

“Sor Yukan.”

A deposition is, without question, a useful device that is used by our legal system as a method of discovery. To be effective, the expectation that the person being deposed will be truthful in their statements must exist, and that the results of the deposition will yield the truth about the subject matter being investigated. Even when a person being deposed provides untruthful and inconsistent responses repeatedly, the truth can still be arrived at—although it may take longer to get there, through a careful reading of between the lines. In addition to the fact that much can often be learned about a person’s character through the process, a deposition can preserve the testimony of a witness who might become unavailable for trial and can sometimes be used to impeach the testimony of a witness at trial.

“What did you do on August sixteenth?” Jones asked as the deposition continued.

“I woke up about six, five-thirty, six, six-thirty, whenever my kids woke up,” March responded. “They had a fitful night. I took care of them. I got dressed. I sat around, steaming at Janet. I took care of the kids. Then I calmed down. I said, ‘Fine. To heck with it.’ I waited for Ella to come. I actually called her and had her come a half—she got to my house a half an hour early. And as soon as Ella got there, I went to my office.”

August 16 was a Friday, and it had been determined earlier that Marissa Moody had dropped off her son to play with Sammy at around ten o’clock that morning. Marissa Moody had also told people, including the police, that she had heard Perry talking to Sammy through the door of his office—the office that he kept at home. Had Perry gone to the office that was not a part of his home
after
Marissa had left? Or had he gone to it
before
? If he had left his house, as he had stated, “as soon as Ella got there,” Moody wouldn’t have heard the conversation that she claimed she had heard between Sammy and his father inside the house, which indicated that he hadn’t left the house “as soon as Ella got there.” So, did he leave the house later in the day? Perry’s statement did not seem consistent with what Marissa had recounted, an indication that someone’s information was incorrect.

“I sat around,” Perry continued. “I did my work. I checked at home to see if Janet had come back. I checked with Carolyn to see if she had heard from Janet. I checked with Larry to see if he had heard from Janet. I called Vanderbilt Plaza. I called the Hampton Inn. I called the Union Station Hotel. Just to see if she had checked in somewhere to chill out. I did work for clients. I came home early.”

“Did you do anything else other than you’ve just told me?” Jones asked.

“I don’t recall. I think it was a relatively routine day.”

“Did you meet with any decorator?”

“I may have met with Laurie Rommel,” Perry responded. “I don’t remember. I could look at my planner.”

“What planner?”

“I’ve got a planner—at home in Chicago. I think I’ve got it. I don’t remember. I don’t even know if I have that planner. That planner was in my office. Larry must have stolen it. I don’t know if I’ve got it or not. I have no idea what I’ve got in my office.”

“Okay. You said you took it to Chicago. Now you said Larry may have stolen it. Did you take it to Chicago?”

“Mr. Jones, I’ve got a couple planners. Different ones. I had an electronic organizer that I was trying to transition to, I had a daytime planner, and I had a calendar from my desk. I don’t know exactly where and when I had different things. It is very possible that on Friday, the sixteenth, I may have met with Laurie Rommel, and maybe I even met with Herb Seloff—I can’t even remember—about looking at space next door for me to move into.”

“Where did you have these meetings?”

“I may have met with Laurie. I don’t know where I met with Laurie on that day. I mean, I met with Laurie at the space a couple times, next door. I met her at her home a couple times. I met her at a carpet place. I met her at a furniture place. I had a number of meetings with Laurie.”

 

 

At one point in Perry March’s two-day deposition, Jon Jones turned his questioning toward the reason why Perry’s father came to visit him after Janet disappeared, and later toward possible sexual relationships that Perry may have had with other women. He also questioned Perry about his and Janet’s last wills and testaments, credit cards, life insurance policies and their dollar values, and beneficiaries. All in all, Perry’s deposition consisted of over four hundred double-spaced pages of information that was gleaned from him during several hours of grueling questions from a man who, at times, seemed like the Grand Inquisitor, but whose methods were intended to bring out the inconsistencies in Perry’s testimony and, hopefully, lead to the truth about what happened to Janet.

“When did you first talk to your father or see him after August fifteenth?” Jones asked.

“I don’t recollect,” Perry responded. “Relatively soon thereafter (Janet’s disappearance), I would guess, probably within a few days.”

“Was he in Mexico, to the best of your knowledge, on August fifteenth?”

“Yes.”

“When did he come into the United States?”

“I don’t recollect. I think it was probably—I think he arrived a couple days before Sammy’s birthday party, which was on the twenty-fifth. So, my guess is, he came in sometime around the twentieth, maybe? Eighteenth? Twentieth? I don’t remember.”

“Why did he come?” Jones asked.

“Because I was distraught that my wife had run away, and he came up to help.”

“Did you ask him to come?”

“Yes. Well, actually, no, I would—I rephrase that. He called up, was very concerned, volunteered to come up, and asked me if I would like him to come up. And I said, ‘Yes. I really would like you to come up.’”

 

 

“Were you involved in an ongoing sexual relationship with anybody besides Janet as of August 15, 1996 ?” Jones asked.

“I refuse to answer your question,” Perry responded somewhat testily. “I decline to.”

“On what basis?”

“Again, none of your business. Irrelevant, intrusive, insensitive to the memory of my wife and to me. I decline to answer it. Take it to Judge Clement and we’ll see if he wants me to answer it.”

“And how is that insensitive to the memory of Janet to ask you that question?”

“None of your business.”

“Are you presently involved in a sexual relationship on an ongoing basis with anyone?”

“Again, I refuse to answer that question.”

“Let me say this,” Jones said. “Such a person might well have information regarding his ongoing financial affairs and all the matters set out in relevance. . . . I’m entitled to know that—”

“And, again,” Perry responded, “I really decline to answer it. I think you’re vulgar and insensitive, and I will not answer that question.”

“On August fifteenth, did you have a discussion with Janet about any relationship on your part? Of a sexual nature?”

“No.”

“That subject never came up; is that correct?”

“Correct.”

 

 

“Did you ever execute a will?” Jones asked during a later segment of the deposition.

“Yes, I have executed a will now,” Perry responded.

“Okay. When did you execute a will?”

“I executed a will probably late September, early October. Mid-October. I don’t remember exactly. I can find that out for you.”

“Who prepared the will?”

“I did.”

“What does it say?”

Lionel R. Barrett Jr., one of Perry’s attorneys, interjected at that point.

“I am going to object,” Barrett said, “strongly, to the relevancy as to the provisions of the will.”

“Well, I don’t mind answering it,” Perry said. “In that period of time, Janet had been gone for quite a while. I was very concerned that if something happened to Janet, she was without a will. I’m without a will. So, I prepared a will, leaving everything to my children. Naming my brother as administrator, my sister or my brother as trustee for the trusts of my children, and naming my brother and his wife and my sister as alternate guardians of the children.”

“Where was that will typed?” Jones asked.

“At my office.”

“What office?”

“At my former law firm. Of Levine, Mattson, Orr, and Geracioti.”

“Who typed it?”

“Me.”

“On what computer did you type it?”

“My computer at my office.”

“The one in your particular office?”

“Yeah, my computer.”

“And where was it printed?”

“In my computer at my office.”

“Do you have copies of that?”

“Yeah. I’ve got copies of my executed will. I believe Mr. Jackson has a copy of my executed will as administrator.”

“Was that before September fifteenth?”

“No.”

“After September fifteenth?”

“Yeah, I believe so. I had prepared multiple copies of wills for Janet and I both, prior to September fifteenth, but never was one executed.”

 

 

“What credit cards do you have?” Jones asked a bit later.

“I have no credit cards in my name,” Perry responded.

“What credit cards do you have use of ?”

“I have the use of one Citibank card that my brother has gotten for me.”

“In whose name is that card?”

“His.”

“What do you mean your brother got it for you?”

“It’s his. It’s his credit card.”

“Did he get it for you?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Month ago.”

“Why didn’t you get a credit card in your own name?”

“Didn’t make application for one.”

“I didn’t ask that. Why didn’t you get one in your own name?”

“Chose not to.”

 

 

“Mr. March,” Jones asked during further questioning, “what life insurance was there on Janet’s life, as of August 15, 1996?”

“To the best of my recollection,” Perry replied, “there was a single term policy for two hundred fifty thousand dollars and that the agent is Janet’s first cousin Mark—Michael Levine.”

“When was that policy purchased?”

“Year, two years ago.”

“Under what circumstances?”

“Janet and I discussed the possibility of what would I do if something happened to her, and vice versa. It was done in connection with our overall estate plan. She and I both agreed that I would need money to pay for a nanny or support a nanny or some alternative child care. And that’s why we purchased the policy. Upon—also upon the recommendation of Mike Levine, who did the same for his wife.”

“You said it was a part of your overall estate plan. Tell me what your overall estate plan was.”

“We didn’t have much of an estate plan at all.”

“Well, that wasn’t—”

“But that was the major issue,” Perry interjected.

“I didn’t ask if you had much,” Jones said. “Let’s try to get to the point today. What was your overall estate plan?”

“It was still in discussion. We hadn’t firmly fixed on it.”

“Tell me about the seven- or eight-hundred-thousand-dollar insurance on your life.”

“Sure. I don’t know exactly the total amount. I have a one-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar whole life policy with the Metropolitan Federal—I can’t remember the name of the policy. I bought it when I was at Bass, Berry, and Sims. Owen Kelley is the agent. It is a relatively expensive term policy. I mean whole life or universal life policy. I also had a term policy with them that I canceled when Mike Levine approached me to take over my insurance needs. I have two policies on my life, a—with Mike Levine, so I still have that policy with Mr.—no, it’s Northwestern. I’m sorry. It’s Northwestern. And I still have that policy on my life for one hundred fifty thousand dollars. I believe Janet is the beneficiary of that policy. I have a term policy with Mike Levine and Union Central, I believe, for one hundred fifty or one hundred seventy-five thousand dollars. Again—that might be—no, I’m sorry. That might be whole. That might be whole life as well. And I have about a—I think a five-hundred or a four-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar term policy with him as well. So the aggregate number is in the seven-hundred-thousand-dollar range.”

“Have you changed beneficiaries on those policies?” Jones asked.

“Yes. I changed on I believe the Union Cen, I believe, on the Mike Levine policies to fifty percent Sammy and fifty percent Tzipi, once this whole situation with Janet came about. I did not want money to go into an absentee’s estate, since I’m currently in litigation over that right now, and I had no desire to have the Levines put their hooks into it. Or have—assert any control over it.”

“Well, let me test a little of the truthfulness of that answer,” Jones said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you change the beneficiaries before or after you filed this litigation?”

“I don’t know. All I know is when in my mind—”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, you just testified the reason you made the change was because of this litigation and to keep the money from going to an absentee’s conservator.”

“I think you heard incorrectly, or I spoke incorrectly,” Perry said. “What I meant to say is, when the situation with Janet developed and she failed to return, and the situation looked as if it might be one that would go into litigation over assets, I determined that rather than put that asset and those assets into dispute, that I would make it very clear in the event of my death that those particular assets, constituting approximately seven hundred thousand dollars, would be directed to the benefit of my two children. Placed into the trust that I have created by will for the care of my two children.”

“All right. So you have changed all of that—the beneficiary on all of your insurance—”