Love, Lies, and Murder Page 9

  After getting the dates of the sequence of events somewhat straightened out, Jones wanted to know whether or not Perry’s house had been burglarized prior to the police arriving and discovering that the computer’s hard drive had been removed and taken from the residence. Perry responded that the house had not been burglarized, at least not to his knowledge, either before he left for Rosh Hashanah or while he was gone. He had not noticed any signs of a break-in, nor had he been aware of anything missing from his house. When he was asked whether he left his house unattended at any time in the days leading up to the point where he discovered that the computer hard drive was missing, Perry responded that he had not. He said that his father, Arthur March, had stayed at the house on Blackberry Road while he was in Chicago with the children.

  “Did you leave your house unattended when you went to Chicago for the holy day?” Jones asked.

  “No. My father was there,” Perry responded, “but I’m not sure he was there the whole time.”

  “Why was your father there?”

  “Because he couldn’t afford to come up for Rosh Hashanah holiday.”

  “Well, why did he stay at your house?”

  “Because it was more comfortable.”

  “More comfortable than what?”

  “Than the condominium that I had rented.”

  “What had you rented a condominium for?”

  “I rented the condominium so that when Janet came back, I’d have a place to go.”

  Perry explained that his father could have stayed with friends that he knew in Nashville rather than at his house or at the condominium, or he could have stayed at a hotel, like he normally did when he came to visit.

  “Did your father stay at your house . . . to watch it?” Jones asked.

  “Sure,” Perry replied. “He was there because it was comfortable, free, and he would also be able to take care of it. It’s a large place. Things go wrong. Things happen.”

  “Did your father have any motive to tear out the hard drive?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Have you asked your father if he tore out the hard drive?”

  “I believe I did.”

  “What did he say?”

  “No.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Absolute one hundred percent.”

  “When did you ask your father if he tore out the hard drive?”

  “That I can’t remember,” Perry said. “I was relatively shocked when it happened. I don’t remember when next I saw my father.”

  “Was your father there when the police executed the search warrant?” Jones asked.

  “I’m sure, yes,” Perry responded. “I believe he was in town.”

  “Was he at your house when they exercised it?”

  “No.”

  “Did your father chase people away from the house, the press away from the house that week?”

  “I don’t know,” Perry replied. “He may have. I think I heard a story. My father is a character. He may have chased away people who tried to trespass on my property. I didn’t—I know that when I left for Rosh Hashanah, I had him put up No Trespassing signs.”

  “Okay. You had him put up No Trespassing signs and you asked him and told him to keep people away from the house and out of the house; is that correct?”

  “I can’t say that I explicitly told him to keep people out of the house or away from the house. My dad’s a big old cuddly bear; and if he was there to watch the house, I promise you, no one would get in my house.”

  “And he was there to watch the house; is that right?”

  “No, he was there because it was a comfortable place and it also served another purpose that he could keep an eye on it.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Jones responded. “You just said if he was there to watch the house, he would keep people away. Is that what you said?”

  “I said if he was there, yeah, to watch the house.”

  “Oh, you were just speaking hypothetically, Mr. March?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Because he was not there to watch the house; is that your sworn position?”

  “No, Mr. Jones,” Perry responded. “It’s not my sworn position. My sworn position is that my father was at my house because it was comfortable, because he couldn’t afford to travel with us, because he was not invited to Rosh Hashanah at any other place in town, and that he also served another very good purpose of keeping an eye on the house, making sure that things were okay. And at that time it had already become a media circus, so keeping reporters and press people off my property was important. And my father was there and I’m sure he would have chased people away, as you put it.”

  “Well, the words ‘to watch the house’ were your words,” Jones said. “Was he there to watch the house?”

  “As another—as one of the many reasons my father was there, I’m sure it can be construed that he was there to watch the house.”

  “Well, now, Mr. March—” Jones began, but was abruptly cut off when Perry interrupted.

  “Mr. Jones,” Perry said, “if you would have walked up to my house during Rosh Hashanah, my father probably would have chased you off.”

  “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 thing
s 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.”

  Chapter 11

  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.