The Book of Matt (42 page)

The principal charges Russell would be facing at his trial were first-degree premeditated murder, kidnapping, and robbery — the same capital charges that Aaron would face in court later that year.

In their questioning of potential jurors, Russell’s lead defense attorney, Wyatt Skaggs, and county prosecutor Cal Rerucha both emphasized that the murder case was not about “lifestyles.”

“It’s not about politics,” Skaggs said. “It’s about judging a human being, possibly even the life and death of a human being … The lifestyle of any one individual in this case is irrelevant.”

Skaggs and his co-counsel, Jane Eakin — who were also married at the time—were more concerned with communicating to the large pool of potential jurors that Russell had only
watched
as Aaron beat Matthew with the barrel of a .357 Magnum, and had not participated in the beating himself.

Cal Rerucha was eloquent, yet firm, as he told jurors it was their duty to judge Russell Henderson — and by inference Matthew Shepard — without prejudice.

“It’s not whether we’re black or white, rich or poor, Catholic or Protestant or even atheist,” he stated. “Whether we have power or no power, whether we are straight or whether we are gay, we are equal because the Wyoming Constitution tells us we are equal. If any of you cannot follow that element of the constitution, you cannot sit on this jury.”

As the start of Russell’s trial drew closer, the town of Laramie braced itself for another invasion of outsiders. A security zone of several square blocks was established around the courthouse, making the area look like an armed camp. The building could only be entered through a single side door, where a police checkpoint with two metal detectors had been set up. Every courthouse employee had been trained in bomb detection.

According to Cal, most of the security measures had been put in place by the federal government in Washington, mainly the FBI and Attorney General Janet Reno’s office. But “other unidentified federal agents” were also keeping track of events as they unfolded in Laramie,
he said. Even he and Detective Rob DeBree were being monitored constantly, “with people looking over our shoulders a lot.”

On several occasions Cal watched in disbelief from his office window as bomb specialists used mirrors to search under cars and TV trucks for explosive devices. Marksmen with high-powered rifles also stood guard on nearby rooftops.

The quiet college town Cal had grown up in and loved “began to feel more like Northern Ireland.”

In the first week of April 1999, just as Russell’s trial was about to begin, a surprise plea bargain was announced. On the advice and admonitions of Wyatt Skaggs, his chief defense attorney, Russell agreed to change his long-held plea of not guilty and forgo a trial to avoid the possibility of a death sentence. Instead he would plead guilty to felony murder and kidnapping, while sidestepping the charge of premeditated first-degree murder. In exchange, he would be given two life terms. Whether those sentences would be served concurrently or consecutively was left up to Judge Jeffrey Donnell.

But only with the passage of time is it possible to examine the complex factors behind the plea-bargaining process — and Russell’s decision — with any measure of objectivity or fairness.

One revealing fragment concerns the defense team’s unambiguous view of the case, which was summed up by attorney Skaggs shortly after Russell had been sentenced. Skaggs told journalist JoAnn Wypijewski that “drugs were not involved in this case” (
Harper’s
, 1999). Yet ironically, Cal Rerucha, his adversary in the courtroom, would later state the complete opposite: “It was a horrible murder … driven by drugs.”

It was evident from the court record that Skaggs had strenuously avoided any mention of methamphetamine — and I was puzzled even more when I was given access to his confidential defense files. While combing through his trial preparation notes, I came across explicit instructions that said, “Stay away from meth” and “Meth — don’t go into it.”

If “drugs were not involved” in the case, why these notes?

Had Skaggs been aware of Aaron McKinney and Matthew Shepard’s prior drug relationship and/or personal involvement, but
made a strategic decision to avoid this incendiary element? The only way that essential evidence and facts could be elicited — and Russell could adequately defend himself against charges that he had targeted, robbed, and beaten Matthew because he was gay — was through a trial, yet Skaggs strongly recommended that Russell accept a plea bargain. The alternative would be the death penalty, Skaggs repeatedly told Russell and his grandmother.

In the relatively small world of Wyoming defense attorneys, Wyatt Skaggs was respected among his colleagues; Cal Rerucha had also spoken admiringly of him on several occasions. And although I had heard charges from many others in Laramie, including a former mayor, that Russell had been “railroaded,” it was too facile an explanation in a high-profile murder case in which crucial information and evidence had been sidestepped on all sides.

A former boss of Skaggs — renowned criminal defense attorney and state public defender Leonard Munker, who died in 2005 — offered the simplest but perhaps most logical rationale for Skaggs’s seemingly fainthearted approach to Russell’s defense. Munker told me in an interview at his home on the outskirts of Cheyenne that he was “absolutely certain” Skaggs would never have taken the case to trial, “out of fear.” With such high stakes, he said, Skaggs wouldn’t risk the possibility of Russell getting the death penalty — though Munker and other legal experts thought the chances of that ever happening were slim.

The sentencing hearing for Russell on April 5, 1999, was only the latest chapter in a family tragedy that was no longer the Shepards’ alone. Three months earlier, on the morning of January 3, Russell’s mother, Cindy Dixon, had been found raped and frozen to death on a desolate road in Rogers Canyon, eight miles from town. A twenty-eight-year-old Florida man, Dennis Menefee, whose nickname was “Dinger” — a convicted felon, an alleged counterfeiter, a known meth dealer, and also a friend of Aaron McKinney — would eventually be found guilty of manslaughter in Dixon’s death. Initially Menefee was charged with murder, but he was later offered a plea bargain and the charges against him were reduced.

The media paid scant attention to Dixon’s killing, which Matthew’s mother described as “mysterious” in her 2009 memoir,
The Meaning of Matthew: My Son’s Murder in Laramie, and a World Transformed
.

Menefee was given a four-to-nine-year prison sentence by Judge Jeffrey Donnell and was released after serving the minimum four years. But nearly a decade and a half after Dixon was abandoned by the side of a road in freezing temperatures and left to die, one of my trusted law enforcement sources in Wyoming, who has intimate knowledge of the Shepard murder as well as the meth underworld, continues to maintain that Matthew’s killing and Cindy Dixon’s are “connected.” My source believes that Dixon was abducted for one of two reasons, or both: to convince Russell to remain silent, especially had his case made it to trial; and as a form of retaliation for Matthew’s robbery and murder in an ongoing dispute between rival drug factions.

Once again — according to official accounts — Cindy Dixon and Dennis Menefee were “strangers” who had met for the first time when Dixon got into his car on a Laramie street.

Very unlikely
, my law enforcement source and others have told me. They said that both victim and perpetrator had associated with some of the same people locally, which may explain why Dixon had voluntarily gotten into Menefee’s car.

And once again the suspected link between them was methamphetamine.

At the April 5 hearing in Judge Donnell’s courtroom, Russell’s grandmother Lucy Thompson stood up to make a statement on his behalf. Many in the courtroom knew Lucy personally. For four decades she had run “Lucy’s Daycare” and was revered for the love and individual attention she gave all “her kids,” as some liked to call them.

Visibly heartbroken, Lucy walked slowly to the lectern in front of Donnell’s bench. Throughout the courtroom, tears were stifled before she started to speak. She turned first to Matthew’s parents and brother, Logan, who were seated in the front row of the gallery behind Cal.

“We would like to thank the Shepards for allowing us this opportunity,” she began. “You have showed such mercy to Russell. We
know that there is nothing that can be said or done to ease your sorrow for your son and your brother, Matthew. You will always be in our prayers, as we know that pain will never go away.”

As Lucy reminisced about her grandson, her words appeared to identify him with Matthew, though her tone was deeply felt.

“Russell was born premature with very severe health problems,” she said. “His mother was young and she was not ready to be a mother. He faced many trials, more than any child ever deserved to go through.”

After expressing Russell’s “great sorrow and grief” to everyone in the courtroom, Lucy turned to Judge Donnell and with earnest conviction said that her family did not condone in any way what her grandson had done.

“But for the Russell we love, we humbly plead with you to sentence him to two life terms
concurrently
,” she continued. “Please do not take Russell completely out of our lives forever. We believe that he can still make some goodness come out of his life.”

Were Russell to receive concurrent life sentences he could conceivably become eligible for parole at some future time, while consecutive terms virtually ensured he would never be released.

Before Lucy returned to her seat she addressed her grandson, assuring him of her love and vowing to support him “throughout the times that may come.”

Russell spoke next. A profound silence fell over the courtroom as he stepped up to the lectern and looked dolefully at the Shepards.

Dennis and Judy returned his gaze, while Logan shifted uneasily.

“Mr. and Mrs. Shepard, there is not a moment that goes by that I don’t see what happened that night,” he told them. “I know what I did was very wrong, and I regret greatly what I did. You have my greatest sympathy for what happened. I hope that one day you will be able to find it in your hearts to forgive me.”

Russell turned then to his grandmother; his half sisters, Carla and Stacey; and several aunts and uncles in the seats behind his defense attorneys.

“To my family, thank you so much for being there with me,” he said. “And I hope you can also one day forgive me.”

At that moment forgiveness was not foremost in Cal Rerucha’s
mind. He knew the only outcome that could remotely console the Shepard family was justice.

But surprisingly, a couple of Matthew’s college friends seated in the back of the courtroom were moved by Russell’s plea. When Matthew had confided in them about his 1995 rape in Morocco, he said he still worried that the perpetrators might have been punished too severely when they were caught. After living in Saudi Arabia, he was aware of how harsh and unforgiving Islamic law could be.

According to Doc O’Connor, who said he had once asked Matthew what he did to people who hurt him, “Matt’s reply was, ‘I forgive them and go on with my life.’ ”

Russell’s downcast eyes were facing Judge Donnell now. “Your Honor, I know what I did was wrong,” he stated softly. “I’m very sorry for what I did, and I’m ready to pay my debt for what I did. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Henderson,” Donnell responded.

A mild tremor in the judge’s voice may have stemmed from knowing that the lost young man awaiting his judgment had once been a shy and lost boy in this same courtroom, trapped in his mother’s downward spiral of alcoholism and abandonment. And like Cal Rerucha and Wyatt Skaggs, Donnell could not escape the dull ache of regret.

After Russell returned to his place at the defense table, Donnell asked Cal if the Shepards wished to make a statement.

“Yes, they would, Your Honor,” Cal said. He nodded reassuringly to Judy, who was already making her way to the lectern.

Calmly, and with the immensity of her loss written in her sad face and posture, Judy spoke of what Matthew’s life and death had meant for her family. She spoke of her love for her firstborn son, who had known many disappointments and many successes; and how his experiences opened his eyes and heart to the differences in people.

Listening to her brought tears to Cal’s eyes. He privately agreed with Dennis Shepard: Bastards who commit such heinous acts deserve to rot in hell. But in more reflective moments, usually in the solitude of a dark confessional at St. Laurence Church or during a sleepless night, Cal had felt many of his certainties fall away. And
as he later confided to me, not a week had passed since Matthew’s murder when he hadn’t been to confession at least once. It was how he had held himself together when chaos and fatigue had become his daily routine.

Judy’s weary gaze fell on Russell now, just a few feet in front of her.

“I have been told I can address you directly,” she said in a low but determined voice. “I have debated whether or not to do so, and at times, I don’t think you’re worthy of an acknowledgment of your existence. But we all know you do exist. You murdered my son. You have forever changed my family …

“My hopes for you are simple. I hope you never experience a day or night without feeling the terror, the humiliation, the helplessness, the hopelessness my son felt that night. And I want you to understand that the decisions you made and the actions you took have done this to you and to your family and to my family. None of us would be here today going through this agony if it weren’t for you.”

After Judy thanked Judge Donnell, Dennis got up. With an aching sadness he talked about the singular mix of qualities that made Matthew who he was, including his “desire to work in human rights … saving the world through political means.” Dennis also alluded to his son’s “chance meeting at the Fireside bar with two friendly strangers.”

What happens now? Who is there in this room to replace him to try and save the world?

My son was born blind; not physically, but to people’s differences. He didn’t see big people and little people, black, brown or white skin, religious or ethnic backgrounds. All he saw were people that needed a friend. His best friends included Japanese, Palestinians and Saudi Arabs. His friends included Muslims, Christians and Buddhists. His friends included gays and so-called straights.