Forty-nine

In many ways, the case had become a tale of two sisters. There were the Ratliff sisters, Margaret and Martha, who were standing by their legal guardian, the man they called Dad, Michael Peterson. There were Kathleen’s sisters, Candace Zamperini and Lori Campell, who had been waiting for twenty months to see justice, who, after seeing the evidence, had become convinced that their brother-in-law had killed their sibling. And there were Elizabeth’s sisters, Margaret Blair and Rosemary Kelloway, who had been misled at the time of Elizabeth’s death, and had been told that Elizabeth only suffered a small loss of blood behind her ear.

Now all three sets of sisters would sit on opposite sides of the courtroom, each in her own private hell, each in her own state of denial, disbelief, and despair. The Ratliff girls were not speaking to any of their aunts—not Margaret or Rosemary, not Candace or Lori. It was as if the girls blamed their aunts for coming forward, as though the Ratliff girls felt their aunts were all part of this great conspiracy that had been launched against Michael Peterson.

When state medical examiner Dr. Aaron Gleckman testified before the members of the jury, explaining that Elizabeth Ratliff’s death was not due to a medical condition or a fall, that her death was a result of a “homicidal assault,” the reality hit home with Liz’s sisters. They weeped as the results of the autopsy were explained, and they were subjected to graphic comparisons between the two deaths, photos being shown of the seven lacerations to the scalps of each murdered woman.

Following Gleckman’s testimony, Dr. Thomas Bouldin, a UNC neuropathologist, testified about disturbing findings regarding Kathleen Peterson. Bouldin would tell jurors that “red neurons” were present in Kathleen’s brain, which was proof that she had experienced a decreased flow of blood to her brain for approximately two hours before her death. Kathleen’s sisters hung their heads and quietly sobbed as they thought of Kathleen lying helpless in her own blood, awake and fighting for her life, for a good part of that time.

As for Michael Peterson, none of it seemed to faze him. On the day the evidence about Elizabeth Ratliff began, Peterson donned a fresh red carnation on his lapel, as if there were some special message he was sending to the universe. Michael Peterson was great at throwing kinks into the trial. He had certain things up his sleeve, and he would continue to make accusations behind the scenes. It was clear from the looks on their faces that his brothers, his sons, his few friends, and, of course, the Ratliff girls completely believed in him.

 

 

Peterson and his defense team were wired with microphones throughout the trial. They all believed wholeheartedly that the jury would have much reasonable doubt in their minds. There were so many errors that police made; there was no tangible proof prosecutors could offer. There was no way a jury could convict him—could send a man to spend the rest of his life in prison—without being absolutely positive that he was guilty.

And the jurors, the twelve members and the four alternates, were looking over at Peterson with favorable expressions. From looking at their faces, it was obvious that the jurors felt sorry for Peterson’s flock, that some of the female jurors seemed to dwell, particularly, on Margaret and Martha Ratliff, who, having lost their other parents, would be losing the only parent they had left.

But the jurors seemed to shift their emotions. They certainly had harder expressions on their faces after they heard the testimony of Candace Zamperini. For months, Kathleen’s sister had driven from her home in Virginia to be present in the Durham Superior Court. Candace was a well-dressed, well-spoken woman, who sat in the front row behind the prosecutors. She was often seen holding Caitlin’s hand, or offering a shoulder for her sister, Lori, to lean on.

Candace wanted justice. She wanted her sister to be able to rest in peace.

From the evidence already presented, jurors had seen lacerations, bruises, and scrapes. In all, there were thirty-five wounds covering Kathleen Peterson’s body, and there was the crushed thyroid cartilage Kathleen suffered, which showed attempted strangulation. Before she testified, Candace had been forced to sit through months of testimony that would attempt to exonerate Michael Peterson. She would suffer his endless laughing, his whispered snide remarks, and his angry glares when the jurors weren’t present.

But now, just after Labor Day weekend, it was her turn.

Holding the brass fireplace tool in her hands, the blow poke that she herself owned, Candace told the jury that the blow poke had become a “fixture” in Kathleen’s home. Candace said she had bought the tool for herself, and had given the identical item to each of her siblings at Christmas in 1984. Candace had seen the item in her sister’s home over the years; she had even used it, recalling Thanksgiving 1999, when she and her sister decided to light a fire to make things festive as they prepared the holiday dinner.

Candace showed the jury three pictures of Kathleen’s home, pointing out the blow poke, which was always sitting in the background near the fireplace. Jim Hardin then offered the blow poke to the jurors, so each of them could hold the hollow item. Two of the jurors actually gripped it and swung the blow poke, as if they were pounding something.

Then Candace, who was fighting back tears, told jurors about a trip that she and her sisters made to Fort Myers, Florida. The family had joined up for a reunion in May 2001. It was a visit to see their mother, Veronica, and Candace and Kathleen were roommates, sharing a bedroom as they had when they were little girls growing up together.

Candace testified that, while in Florida, she and Kathleen “talked for hours” about their lives, each giving away secrets. During their conversations, Kathleen had talked about the stress she was under at work. Kathleen said she was spending twelve-to-fourteen-hour days at her job, that she was unhappy having to lay off so many employees, and yet she felt she had to “stick it out to the bitter end.” Kathleen confided that she “would not have a job by the end of the year.” She expressed concerns about having to pay college tuition for three children, and she complained that she no longer had any time for herself. She was feeling run-down and having headaches, yet she had no time to go to a doctor. For the first time, ever, Kathleen had confided that she felt exhausted and tired, that she had been drinking and taking Valium because things were so dire at home.

Kathleen talked about the falling price of Nortel stock, and she explained that she had lost her life’s blood in the stock market. Kathleen talked about the looming expenses at her home, and she admitted she no longer could afford the upkeep. There was water damage from a leaky roof, and also $10,000 in termite damage. There were major plumbing problems, there were bats in the attic, the problems seemed endless, and Kathleen couldn’t afford to fix any of it. Kathleen confided that she wanted a smaller home, but she said Michael wouldn’t consider that possibility.

Candace told jurors that her sister “felt sick that nothing was turning around” at Nortel, and cried tears about losing over $1 million in stock prices, which were continuing to fall. Candace explained that she tried to console her sister, that she had suggested that Kathleen look elsewhere for a job. But that didn’t seem to be a viable option for Kathleen. Kathleen had climbed to the top of the ladder at Nortel, and at her age, she felt she wouldn’t be hireable at the same salary elsewhere.

Hours later, as Candace went through the events surrounding her sister’s death, describing the blood on the walls in the Peterson stairwell, explaining her attempts to clean up the blood, she told jurors about spraying Windex in the stairwell, about her desire to hide the horrific scene from other family members.

“I found blood running down my arm,” Candace testified, her voice weakening. “I just really remember reaching my arm up and spraying the cat picture.”

And with that, Candace Zamperini broke down in tears.

As she sat on the witness stand in her black suit and pearls, the woman tried to compose herself. She made every effort to keep her head held high, but the court had to take a brief recess. Candace found herself being led away by her husband, Mark, and her sister, Lori. She had been whisked out of the courtroom so her tears could no longer be visible.

When Candace took the stand again, she was grilled by David Rudolf. The attorney asked questions pointing to Candace’s initial belief in her brother-in-law’s innocence. He asked Zamperini to explain why she made statements to police, early on, about what a wonderful marriage her sister Kathleen enjoyed with Michael Peterson.

But, in her final remarks to the jury, Candace testified that whatever opinion she ever had of Michael Peterson, whatever support she had shown him early on, was a result of misguided thoughts.

“Sitting here today, I have no idea who Mike Peterson is, none whatsoever,” she testified. “Who he held himself out to be, and who he’s turned out to be, I have no idea who he is.”