Twenty-two

Three days later an extraordinary meeting was convened in Bob Bowers’ office. Eight people were present, including Bowers, Reiber, Guillot, criminalist James Beede from the crime lab, and Detective Spreitzer from the Sheriff’s Department.

By some accounts, the meeting was fractious.

Bowers began by passing out file copies of the three Barron cases. Bowers pointed out Synhurst’s discovery: that all the deaths appeared to have occurred on the seventh of the month, and on a Sunday.

If these had been natural deaths, Bowers pointed out, the odds of something like that happening would have been astronomical.

If the deaths were murders—and given the coincidences of the dates and days, that seemed the only logical explanation—the only real suspect was Jack Barron. And since it now appeared that Jack was intent on selling his house and leaving the area, it was imperative for the authorities to decide what to do before he got away.

Reiber then reviewed each of the cases. From his most recent review of Schmunk’s autopsy report, it appeared to him that there was in fact evidence of strangulation or suffocation in the case of Irene Barron. Reiber pointed out all the petechial hemorrhages in Irene’s eyes, lungs, and brain. These could be the result of Irene’s blood vessels bursting as she fought for air, he said. Such hemorrhages were common in asphyxial deaths.

Reiber had to admit, however, that some of this apparent trauma might have been caused by natural physical changes to the body after death. But Reiber said the scene was nevertheless otherwise indicative of foul play—primarily, the pillow found over Irene’s face by Christina Hamilton, a pillow with apparent streaks of mascara on it, as had been noted by Schmunk.

Now it was Beede’s turn. He told the group that an analysis of the stomach contents retrieved from Ashley’s remains showed that Ashley had died shortly after her last meal—roast beef, potatoes, and corn. That was consistent with the notion that perhaps she had been dead even before Jill Presley arrived at the house.

That, of course, was inconsistent with the sevens; had Ashley really died shortly after dinner (a possibility also consistent with the extent of rigor mortis and lividity present when she was discovered), she would have died on the sixth, not the seventh. But in fact, this might have been a clue: maybe it wasn’t the date of the death that was significant, but the date of the discovery of the victim. Either way, it seemed to suggest to those present that the seventh of the month might have significance to the killer, along with the day of Sunday.

Bowers summarized: it seemed now clear that a serial murder case had been going on under their noses for two years; three people were dead and no one could explain how or why. He wanted Detective Spreitzer to agree to a cooperative investigation between the Coroner’s Office and the Sheriff’s Department. Most importantly, he wanted Spreitzer’s department to agree to more interviews with Jill Presley and Jack Barron.

Put on the spot, Spreitzer agreed that the information so far developed by the Coroner’s Office was interesting and provocative. He would, he said, present these findings to the rest of the homicide squad for further discussion. But Spreitzer said that at this stage of the game he doubted that any further interview with Jack would be productive.

Then Spreitzer dropped the capper, as recorded by Guillot’s notes of the meeting:

“Det. Spreitzer [Guillot wrote] added that even with a confession of guilt from Jack Barron, the lack of corroborating evidence would discourage the DA’s office from attempting to prosecute the case.”

So it went, as both sides continued chasing their tails: the Coroner’s Office wanting the Sheriff’s Department to assist in finding the corroboration, and the Sheriff’s Department saying it would be fruitless to look for the corroboration unless the Coroner’s Office could corroborate that a murder had actually occurred.

Bowers ended the meeting by telling Spreitzer that his office wasn’t about to drop the matter. A request had been made, Bowers said, for the services of a psychological profiler from the California Department of Justice—a clear indication that the Coroner’s Office was prepared to go over the heads of the Sheriff’s Department if that’s what it took to get action.

On that acrimonious note, the meeting ended.

Billy Guillot was intrigued by Synhurst’s idea about the sevens. When he reviewed the files, he could find no particular significance in the date; but then Guillot noticed that there was very little information about Jack’s father in any of the files.

Moreover, Guillot had learned something else, this time from Debra Harris. While at the Southbreeze house after the funeral, Debra told Guillot, Roberta Butler had mentioned that Ashley had died on the same day that Jack’s father, Elmore, had been born. Now Guillot wondered: was this significant?

On August 29, Guillot called the Southbreeze house. No one answered. He left a message on the recorder, asking Jack to call him at the office.

At 1:15 in the afternoon, Roberta called Guillot. Billy explained that he wanted to collect some background on the health history of the Barron side of the family. Roberta was not very cooperative.

“Roberta Butler confirmed that among other members of her family there had been a case of diabetes and one stroke,” Guillot noted for the file, “but none of these involved children. There had been no SIDS deaths in her family. Roberta Butler advised that Elmore Barron, the father of Jack Barron, had a similar background. Roberta Butler believes that Elmore Barron has had more children since their divorce but does not know anything about their medical history.”

Then Guillot added the following interesting observation:

“Roberta Butler seemed guarded or defensive over the issue of there being the possibility of a genetic medical problem relating to her side of the family. I had stated that the medical records had researched Irene’s family, but never Jack’s. Roberta Butler replied that ‘there was no need to.’ Roberta Butler advised that she would be at Jack Barron’s residence for the rest of the week helping him move.”

From her efforts to cut short the discussion, Billy got the feeling from Roberta that inquiring about the Barron family medical history was, to Roberta, “completely uncalled for.”

About half an hour after this conversation, Jack himself called Guillot. Guillot’s most pressing interest at this point was to discover the year of Elmore Barron’s birth; that way he could determine the day of the week on which Jack’s father had been born. If it was also a Sunday, that would be very significant information, Billy thought. But first he needed the year to determine that.

To Guillot, Jack seemed mostly guarded, as Roberta had seemed angry. Jack’s tone was clipped, almost nonresponsive. He dismissed Guillot’s questions about the Barron family medical history, and turned once more to the Pagets, relating information about Jack Paget’s family as though it might be significant.

This was not what Guillot was interested in, of course. But Jack was so cautious Guillot decided he needed to use all his guile, to play Jack as if he were a particularly old and crafty catfish. Gingerly, Guillot broached the question of Elmore’s birth date.

“Jack stuttered,” Guillot recalled later. “He said that he couldn’t remember. I had to press the question.” Still Jack said he could not recall.

At length, however, Jack did recall Elmore’s Social Security number, and provided a state where Jack believed that Elmore had resided.

Guillot ran Elmore’s name, day and month of birth, state of residence, and Social Security number through a law enforcement computer system. Eventually the right Elmore popped up, along with the year of birth—1938.

Billy checked a perpetual calendar for August 7, 1938. It was a Sunday. Jack’s sudden nervousness over his father’s birth date, and his obvious reluctance to provide the information told Guillot he was on the right track.

“I’d hit a hot button,” Guillot said later.