Tuesday, May 27th, 2014
Labs done on Libby Tracy showed she was high on the very powerful psychedelic tryptamine drug compound DMT when she was admitted to Genesis. I’d heard of it but it certainly wasn’t common in the area and it needed to stay that way. I had no idea where she’d gotten it but I intended to find out.
A complete search of the Tracy house hadn’t turned up any more of the DMT or anything that suggested how it was delivered to her. We also didn’t find any Ecstasy in the house or any evidence that there was or had ever been arsenic on the premises.
The search wasn’t a complete bust. The guys I left to process the scene did find a few interesting things as they sifted through the mess that Libby had created while stoned out of her mind and trying to ward off the wolves she was seeing in her hallucinations. They turned up some very high grade pot and also a blood pressure medication prescription for Ben Tracy that consisted of a full bottle of pills filled a little more than a month prior to his death. He hadn’t been taking them. At the least, Ms. Liberty Tracy had a little bit of explaining to do.
Libby was lying, still strapped to a hospital bed, seemingly asleep when I entered her room late Tuesday afternoon. I leaned over her and said firmly but in a softer than normal tone, “Mrs. Tracy, its Sheriff Crane. I need to speak with you.”
She turned her head toward the sound of my voice and opened her eyes. They were fairly clear for someone who, less than 24 hours earlier, had been on a wild, drug induced trip. She’d been playing possum. She was actually wide awake and more than a little angry. “I remember you Sheriff! Why are you having me held here? Why am I strapped to this bed?”
I raised my tone of voice, “Those are good questions ma’am. Let me just ask if you’d rather be here or in an interrogation room at the county lock-up?”
“Don’t be a bitch Sheriff. You have no reason to arrest me!”
I smarted a little at that. Playing ‘bad cop’ with a hippie throwback obviously wasn’t the way to go after all. I tried a different tactic. “Libby, do you know why you were brought in here in the first place?”
“No! The nurses aren’t telling me anything and your goons outside the door are being total asses to me too!”
I seriously doubted if my deputies rotating through to watch the detoxing Liberty Tracy even spoke with her during their shifts but then maybe that was her problem with them. They didn’t know anything about why she was there other than to rehab from a drug related issue. They were following orders to keep an eye on her so she didn’t hurt herself and to not let anyone in the room but me and hospital medical staff. They wouldn’t have been able to answer any of her questions no matter what she asked them about her own predicament.
I smiled at her and backpedaled to try and loosen her up, “I’m sorry that you’re being held like this ma’am but, when we brought you in yesterday, strapping you down and having an observer out there was for your own protection. You’d taken a very powerful psychotic drug and, we believe, because of its effects, you were in the process of destroying your home.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Do you remember taking DMT yesterday Mrs. Tracy?
“What the hell is DMT?”
“It’s the drug that was found in your system when we brought you in here ma’am. Your doctor says it’s similar to LSD but much more powerful. When we got to your house you were hallucinating and trashing the place.”
Libby just stared at me wide eyed but said nothing. “Libby?” There was no response. “Libby, I need to know where you got the DMT.”
“Am I under arrest Sheriff?”
“No ma’am, not at this point.”
“Pardon? What do you mean by that?”
“Mrs. Tracy, the Coroner has ruled Ben’s death to be a homicide. I went to your house yesterday afternoon to inform you and to talk with you more about Ben. That’s when I found you in the state that landed you here. You’re not a suspect at this point, as I said, but we have a lot to talk about. I really need your cooperation.”
She snorted. “Cooperation? With the cops? Look at me; I’m strapped to an f’n bed and I’m being pushed to confess to something I know nothing about. I want a lawyer.”
“You can have a lawyer if you like Mrs. Tracy but you aren’t under arrest or even under suspicion right now. We just need some sort of starting point for our investigation into your husband’s death. Frankly, you were strapped down for your own protection.”
I wasn’t getting through to her. I could see it in her eyes. I tried another tactic; “Look, I’m sure, since you’re doing better, your doctor can authorize the restraints to be removed.”
She appeared to think about that for more than a minute. Finally she spat, “Fine! Get the doctor in here then and then maybe I’ll talk to you.” She waved her hand toward the door.
An hour later, a more gentle Liberty Tracy was sitting up in bed, not fully recovered from her drug induced state, but happy to be free of her former bonds. Since I wasn’t formally charging with her with anything, to include any sort of drug related crime, I really couldn’t hold her in the hospital. She was free to check herself out now that she had been deemed to be not a danger to herself or others. I just hoped she’d cooperate just a little before she bolted. I’d called Treadway in to be a witness to her statement as I took it.
I decided to start with what had gone on with her and to work backwards from there to her husband’s murder. “Mrs. Tracy, I need to ask you again about the drugs. Where did you get the DMT?”
She looked away from me but then looked straight up when she realized Treadway had taken up a position on her opposite side. She was about to lie and we passed a look between us that said we both knew it.
“I didn’t take DMT Sheriff. I didn’t take anything.”
“Did you think you were taking LSD?”
“I just told you, I didn’t take anything!”
“Okay. Let’s talk about Monday then. What did you do on Monday?”
Her eyes darted about, “When on Monday are we talking?”
Being so evasive is starting to make more suspicious of her after all...Is this cop hatred or is this guilt? “Just start with first thing Monday morning.”
“Well, I remember the phone waking me. It was Ben’s sister Angie from Huntington.”
“West Virginia?” I was making notes.
“Yes, that’s where Ben grew up. He couldn’t wait to get away from there...” She trailed off.
“What’s Angie’s last name?”
“I don’t recall. She’s been married and divorced probably a half dozen times.”
I nodded. “I see. Why was she calling?”
“Oh, she pretended to be concerned about Ben but I know it was really all about money. She’s always looking for a handout. Probably hoped Ben left her something even though they hadn’t seen each other in years and hadn’t spoken, that I know of, in the last couple of years, at least. I didn’t call Angie to tell her about Ben’s death. I just called his momma. I’m sure she’s the one who called her. I just told Angie I couldn’t make funeral arrangements yet and left it at that.”
“What time was it when you hung up with her?”
“Well...I was still feeling a little out of sorts after Ben’s death and all so I went back to sleep. I didn’t get up till after 1:00, if that’s what you’re asking.” She gave me a questioning look.
“Once you were up, did you go anywhere or meet with anybody?”
That set her off again. “Are you interrogating me Sheriff? You said I’m not under arrest!”
“Libby, I’m trying to figure out three things; one, what happened to you on Monday afternoon or early evening, two; what happened to Ben and three; if those two things are related.”
She turned and looked at Treadway. He pursed his lips and nodded. She turned back to me. “Well then let’s stop beating around the bush here. Tell me what happened to Ben, Sheriff!”
I gave in to her demand. “Our investigation is just beginning, you understand, but we’ve opened this up as a murder case as a result of the coroner’s findings which say that Ben was poisoned over a long term leading to heart failure which ultimately caused his death.”
“Poisoned?” Her look was nothing short of incredulous and genuine. She shuddered and hunched her shoulders up tight. Even Treadway, a deputy with more than 25 years of combined military police and Sheriff’s Department service, raised his eyebrows.
“Yes ma’am.”
“How?”
“We’re not sure exactly how yet but we intend to find out. What we do know is that he was poisoned with arsenic.”
“Arsenic? Rat poison? How on earth...Where would he get...”
“It was in his bloodstream so we’re pretty sure he was getting it from something he was ingesting. It’s possible it was mixed with other drugs Ben was taking...like Ecstasy...” I let that statement hang in the air for a minute. Libby didn’t respond, she just started at me.
“Did you know Ben was a habitual user of Ecstasy?”
“I believe we had a conversation before Sheriff about how little I really saw Ben.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes; and you also mentioned that you had an open marriage. Those two things go together, I’m sure, but my hunch is that the drug use plays into that too. I’m sorry to ask this but we really need to know; Libby, was Ben gay?”