The Register Cliff Rapist

The Register Cliff Rapist

By Monte R. Anderson

Copyright 2015 Monte R. Anderson

Smashwords Edition

Discover other works by Monte R. Anderson at http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson.

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This novel is a work of fiction. The names and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be considered real. Any resemblance to real people living or dead, or actual incidents is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

This novel is dedicated to the residents of Torrington, Wyoming, my home town and a great place to live and to the citizens of the great state of Wyoming.

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Table of Contents

Prelude

Jason Franco, Journalist

Jeri Cruse, Torrington Chief of Police

Naomi Marini, Art Boyd and Gerald Dunley, Police Officers

Emma and Sage Godfrey, Rosebud, Montana

Sheriff Kelly Tatum and Deputy Clint Gosling, Rosebud, Montana

Crime Scene, Rosebud, Montana

Howard Patton, Public Defender, Josette Jo McAdams, Mother, Paulo McAdams, Convicted Felon

Sean Tyler, Editor, Torrington Star-Gazette

Tina Nussbaum, High School Classmate

Crime Laboratory, Division of Criminal Investigation, Cheyenne, Wyoming

Dyanna Jones, Biologist and Roommate

Staff of the Torrington Star-Gazette

Molli and Cate, Rape Victims

Naomi Marini and Art Boyd, Siblings

Interviews of Rape Victims

Ms. Maria Diaz, Teacher, Torrington High School

Bob Cliff, Golden Gloves Boxing Coach

Javier Radcliffe, Art Boyd's Best Friend

Dyanna Jones, Rape Victim, Rex Gilmore, Registered Sex Offender

Austin Bridges, Eye Witness

Natalie Hathaway, Administrative Assistant

Child Porn Web Site

Donna Ramsey, Rape Victim

Benedict Foxx, Defense Lawyer

Sylvester Sy Vaughn, Mechanic

Torrington Police Department Press Release

Paulo McAdams’s Damaged Car

Frank Roberts, Crime Lab Arson Expert

Anonymous Tipster

OrthoColorado Hospital, Denver Colorado

Jane Wickham, FBI Agent

Visiting Hours at OrthoColorado Hospital

Press Conference at OrthoColorado Hospital

Recovery Unit, OrthoColorado Orthopedic Hospital

The Big Commitment

About the Author

Connect with Monte Online

Other Books by Monte R. Anderson

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PRELUDE

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

What is the nature of your emergency?

The caller was out of breath. Between breaths, she screamed into the telephone. My daughter. She’s been stabbed. I think she’s dead. Send the police and an ambulance right away.

Yes, Ma’am. Lower your voice, please. Are you sure she’s dead?

The caller took a deep breath. I’m a nurse. I checked her vital signs.

Okay. Stay on the line. The police are on the way. They should be there soon. What is your name?

My name is Margaret Littlefield.

Okay Margaret, are you in a safe place?

After a short pause, Mrs. Littlefield answered, I don't know. I think so. I'm in the house.

Maybe you should leave the house and wait outside.

Okay. Please hurry.

Officers Marini and Boyd were first to arrive at the Littlefield residence, a three-bedroom house on the east side of town. They were at the police station when the call came in around 11:30 pm and drove over in separate patrol cars. Mrs. Littlefield was standing in the driveway when they arrived. She was still in her nurse uniform with a sweater on over it. Fall had not yet arrived, but the weather had turned chilly. She led the two officers inside her house through the side door off the car port. Only the kitchen light was on. Her daughter, Angelina Littlefield, lay on her back on the kitchen floor. She was naked from the waist down. Her jean shorts were pulled over her head. Her tube top was covered with blood and there was a large puddle of blood on the floor. A stab wound was in her chest.

Naomi Marini was the senior officer. She told Mrs. Littlefield and Officer Art Boyd to stay out of the kitchen to avoid contaminating the crime scene. She carefully tiptoed into the room, avoiding any blood spatter. She knelt down and checked for a pulse in Angelina’s carotid artery but found none. Ma’am, is anyone else in the house?

Oh. I didn’t check. They told me to stay outside to wait for you guys. I didn’t see anyone.

Naomi instinctively pulled her service revolver and turned to Art Boyd. Check the house. The perp may still be here. Then check the doors and windows for a forced entry. Naomi wasn’t worried about Art checking the house without backup. Art stood six feet two and was an expert in martial arts. He was also the top marksman in the department.

Art drew his service pistol and flashlight and carefully checked every room. He saw no one. He checked all the doors and windows but found no indications of forced entry. He returned to the dining room where Naomi was questioning Mrs. Littlefield. All clear. I didn't see any evidence of forced entry.

Chief of Police, Jeri Cruse, arrived with Officer Gerald Dunley followed by the ambulance. Naomi and Art met them in the dining room. After conferring with Naomi, Chief Cruse said, Let’s protect the crime scene and don’t touch anything. I’m going to request assistance from the State Police. They have a Regional Enforcement Team on standby. They can be here within a couple of hours. Gerald, you check outside around the house. Make sure no one is lurking about and then check for forced entry from the outside and footprints.

Chief Cruse turned to Mrs. Littlefield. I’m sorry for your loss, ma'am. I promise we’ll find whoever did this. But right now we can’t touch the body. We need to look for clues. Did you cover her face like that?

Mrs. Littlefield shook her head.

Ma'am, I know this is hard for you, but the first forty-eight hours are critical to catching whoever killed your daughter. We need to ask you some questions. Do you understand?

Mrs. Littlefield shook her head yes. She was beginning to feel numb.

Chief Cruse removed a pocket recorder and turned it on. In your own words, tell us what happened.

She took a deep breath. Okay. I'm a nurse at the Torrington Community Hospital. I work the second shift until 11 pm. I got home around 11:30. That's when I found her. She began to choke up. Like that.

Was anyone with your daughter tonight?

Mrs. Littlefield wiped her face with her hands. I don't know. My daughter usually stays up until I get home. Sometimes her boyfriend is with her.

Is there a Mr. Littlefield?

Mrs. Littlefield shook her head again. She was starting to shake and turn pale. Chief Cruse took her hand and led her to a chair at the dining room table. What about Paulo? she asked.

Who? asked Jeri.

Paulo McAdams. He’s Angelina’s boyfriend. Someone has to tell him. She gave Chief Cruse Paulo’s address.

Okay, ma’am. We’ll take care of it. Naomi, go over to Paulo McAdams’s house and notify him. Take Art with you. Jeri followed Naomi and Art outside. In the drive way he stopped them. Be careful. This Paulo guy might be the perp. Look around and see if there’s any indication that he might be involved then bring him in for questioning.

Officer Dunley came around from the back of the house. All clear, Chief. No signs of a forced entry or footprints. She may have let her attacker inside–maybe someone she knew.

Okay. Check it again after sunrise. Something might turn up in the daylight.

The McAdams's house was on the west side of town near the National Guard armory. When Naomi and Art arrived at the McAdams's residence, they found all the lights off. After several knocks, Paulo answered the door followed quickly by his mother in a robe. Paulo had on a pair of khaki shorts and a white T-shirt. Naomi noted there was no visible blood stains on his clothes. Se also noted there were no scratches or wounds on his face or arms.

Do you mind if we come in? asked Naomi. When she saw the puzzled looks on the faces of Paulo and his mother, she added, It’s about Angelina.

Without another word, Paulo opened the door wider and stepped aside. Once inside, Naomi said, We regret to inform you that Angelina Littlefield has been killed. We're sorry for your loss.

Paulo’s knees buckled. Art grabbed him before he collapsed and helped him to the couch. Mrs. McAdams ran to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water for Paulo. As he slowly regained his composure, Mrs. McAdams hugged her son.

When? How? Who? stammered Paulo.

Naomi took the lead. We don’t have much information at this time. Apparently, someone came into the Littlefield residence and killed her while her mother was at work. Right now that's all we know. Mrs. Littlefield said we should tell you right away.

Paulo was still in shock as the news set in. Can I see her?

I’m afraid not, answered Naomi. We’re waiting for a Regional Enforcement Team from the State Police. They’re the forensics experts. The medical examiner hasn’t released her body yet. When did you last see her?

Paulo started to cry. Unconsciously, he began to pitch the skin on the back of his hand. Like every night, we hung out at her place until about nine thirty. She wanted to clean up the kitchen before her mother came home from work, so I left.

Just the two of you alone?

Yes, of course.

Naomi looked at Mrs. McAdams. I hate to ask this but I’ve to. Can you verify that Paulo came home around nine thirty and stayed here?

She was asleep, interjected Paulo. I came in, watched TV for a few minutes and went to bed around ten or ten thirty. His mother nodded her head in agreement.

Naomi made a note in her notebook. Did you call anyone or did anyone call you?

No, answered Paulo.

Naomi made another notation. Did you use your computer or cellphone, so we can verify the time?

Again, Paulo answered, No.

Naomi touched Paulo’s shoulder. We’re sorry for your loss. Would you help us by answering some questions down at the station? Maybe later you can see her body.

Paulo stood up. Yeah, sure.

I’m coming too, said Mrs. McAdams. Just let me put some clothes on.

Paulo, Officer Boyd here will stay with you as you dress, said Naomi. I want you to give him the clothes you wore tonight at the Littlefield house. We have to check them. It's protocol. Your shoes too.

Sure. I understand.

After a few minutes, Paulo and his mother were dressed. Art had a large plastic bag with Paulo's clothes in it.

Cellphone? Naomi asked Art.

Got it, answered Art as he pointed to the bag of clothes.

Officer Boyd will take you two to the station, said Naomi.

After five minutes Art left with Paulo and Mrs. McAdams. Naomi waited in her patrol car until they left and then marched back into the house with her crime scene kit and a paper bag. In her hurry, Mrs. McAdams forgot to lock the door. Since Paulo was a suspect, Naomi could legally enter the house. Naomi was in the McAdams house for only a few minutes when she called Chief Cruse. Chief, we got a situation here. Art is taking Mrs. McAdams and her son to the station. I think I've found the murder weapon‒the knife.

I thought so, answered the Cruse. Don't touch anything. I'll be over there in a few minutes. Meanwhile take pictures.

One more thing, Chief. I found Angelina's cellphone. A picture of her dead body is on it.

Are you sure it's hers?

I'm sure. Mrs. McAdams took hers, and Art has Paul's cellphone. It has a pink cover and the information on the phone says it's Angelina's.

Before noon, the Torrington police charged Paulo McAdams with aggregated assault and the murder of Angelina. Later, after the Medical Examiner’s autopsy, they added the charge of first degree sexual assault.

# # # #

Jason Franco, Journalist

Monday, June 1, 2015

The only newspaper in Torrington, The Torrington Star-Gazette, covered the Littlefield murder case with daily details. Now its editor, Sean Tyler, and its only reporter, Jason Franco, sat in the courtroom to hear the judge’s sentence. Sean was a baby boomer pushing or pulling on seventy‒Jason wasn't sure which. Sean's hair was gray but still holding on. Each ear supported a super-sized hearing aid. He wore a suit with a red power tie. In spite of a temperature in the low 80s, the air in the courtroom was stuffy. Jason figured that all the people crowded together plus the news cameras caused the stuffiness.

This was all new to Jason who was hired by Sean just a few months ago. It was his first trial and first murder story. At Sean's insistence, Jason wore a pair of gray dress pants, white dress shirt and a black tie–no jacket. He was twenty-four years old and owned only one suit which he rarely wore. His dress shoes were a high school graduation gift. They still looked new and squeaked when he walked. They were uncomfortable. The courtroom stood in silence as the judge proceeded to his bench. Paulo had pleaded guilty to a lesser charge to avoid the death penalty‒second degree murder. The lack of a full blown trial left unanswered the question of motive; why did Paulo rape and kill his high school sweet heart?

Paulo’s mother sat directly behind him. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Angelina’s family sat a few rows back. Her mother sat with an older woman. Other relatives from both families were there to offer support. Paulo sat with his lawyer, Howard Patton. His head was bowed. He wore the jail’s orange jump suit, was handcuffed and had on leg chains. Everyone in the courtroom wanted to hear Paulo offer some rationale on why he killed Angelina and apologize to her mother. That didn’t happen. When the judge asked if Paulo wanted to make a statement, his lawyer said that his client declined to speak. The judge asked Angelina’s mother if she wanted to say anything, and she also declined.

The press was well represented. Murders in Wyoming are rare; not like Chicago or New York. Any murder was major news. Two camera crews from TV stations in Cheyenne were present and one from Casper. Another crew came from as far away as Omaha. Sean knew a couple of the reporters and introduced himself to the others, exchanging business cards. The newspaper office was only two blocks from the courthouse, so he made it available to the out of town press; coffee, donuts, bottles of water and a clean restroom.

The judge asked Paulo to stand. Paulo's lawyer had to help him to his feet and held onto Paulo's arm. When the judge said he would accept the guilty plea, Paulo shouted, I didn’t kill her. He turn toward Mrs. Littlefield and mouthed the words, I loved her. At that, Mrs. Littlefield, who had been crying quietly all morning, let out a loud sob and broke down in tears. Jason wasn’t sure if she was crying for her daughter or Paulo.

The court room exploded in shouts of protests and disbelief. The judge pounded his gavel for order. Then he told Paulo he already had his chance to speak. The judge asked Mr. Patton if his client now wished to make a statement. Patton whispered with Paulo and then shook his head to the judge. The judge immediately read the sentence of life in prison. Paulo's knees buckled. He would have fallen if Patton didn't have a hold of him. Patton held his client until the bailiff took custody. Paulo’s mother also broke down in tears as the bailiff led Paulo out of the courtroom.

TV camera crews were waiting outside to cover the exit of the family. Angelina’s family hugged each other. The out of town press rushed in to talk to the mothers who declined to speak to reporters. Sean didn’t want any part of it and shook his head. He lowered his eyebrows. This isn't right. This isn't right.

What’s not right? asked Jason.

Paulo didn’t do it. I know he didn’t. He’s innocent. Something’s not right.

Why do you say that? The evidence was very compelling. Do you know Paulo?

Sean frowned. I met him on several occasions. Paulo and Angie dated since their sophomore year in high school. He’s a nice kid. I don’t believe he did it. They were planning to marry. He has no history of violence. I never saw him angry. He worshiped Angie. Sean paused and took a deep breath. I was dating Angelina’s grandmother.

Is that who was sitting with Mrs. Littlefield?

Yeah, her name is Kate Smith.

Should we catch Paulo’s lawyer outside and interview him?

Sean lifted his chin, looking down his nose at the other reporters rushing outside. No. I don’t have the energy to join this circus.

Do you want to write up the story for the front page?

No. A press release will come out in a couple of hours. We’ll run that along with pictures of Angie and Paulo.

That won’t take up much space.

We’ll blow the pictures up to half a page. That, plus the press release will take up the whole front page.

The Torrington Star-Gazette was a typical small town newspaper. Except for local sports, there wasn't much to the paper. It had a few syndicated columns, a summary from US News, and an editorial page. The rest consisted of stories written by Sean and Jason. They frequently enlarged pictures to take up space. Their customer base was in decline. Jason and Sean walked the few blocks back to the newspaper office in silence. Once inside, Sean motioned for Jason to come into his office. Sean was the editor for thirty plus years and the owner for twenty-two.

Sean sat down at his desk and removed his tie. He sighed and messaged his left wrist. He fiddled with