by Ann Rule
Ron Reynolds finally agreed to call her and tell her which items he would let her take and that he'd have them all boxed up and ready to go. He also said she could take Ronda's portable dog kennels so she could make a place for them. Surprisingly, he also said she could take Ronda's saddle, which was sitting in the living room.
It appalled Barb to think of Katie and her sons going through Ronda's things. But there was nothing she could do about that. She knew she had to keep her mouth shut, act timid, meek, and grateful, and walk away.
WHEN THEY MET WITH Jerry Berry that evening, David Bell and Barb Thompson verified each other's recall. David Bell told the detective that he had once had dinner with Ronda on her lunch break at Macy's. She had received a page from Ron and called him back. Bell had listened to Ronda's side of the conversation and could tell that Ron was trying to get her to stay in Olympia--since she was working late, he didn't want her to drive home.
"She asked Ron who was at their house," Bell said.
She was suspicious that Katie was there, and Ronda had also told Dave Bell that she wanted a clean bill of health--free of HIV--before she agreed to divorce Ron.
"Did she have a broken fingernail when you saw her last?" Berry asked Bell.
"No. None of her fingernails were broken Tuesday evening when I dropped her off at her house sometime between eight and eight-thirty. When we were driving around, Ronda sat next to me, with her left hand holding my right hand," Bell answered. "She was very, very particular with her nails, and if she had a broken nail, believe me, she would have mentioned it to me. I can definitely say she did not have a broken fingernail. She also talked about the fifteen thousand dollars of her money that she had put into the house that Ron wanted her to just walk away from."
The last conversation Dave Bell had with Ronda had been around 12:45 A.M. on December 16, when she called him to update him on her flight schedule. She told him she would be flying out of SeaTac in Seattle at 2:00 P.M. He would have to leave Des Moines by 10 A.M. in order to get to Toledo on time to pick her up and drive her back north to the airport.
"Ronda sounded good--happy--about going to Spokane then," Bell said. "She said she had gotten a little bit of sleep and felt much better. She sounded much calmer than she had been earlier--in the afternoon."
The sergeant from the Des Moines Police Department told Berry he was upset at Ron Reynolds's attitude when he called Ronda later on the morning of the sixteenth. Ron had been so matter-of-fact and emotionless when he said "Ronda committed suicide."
It was late in the evening when Barb and Dave Bell finished their meeting with Jerry Berry. They were even more convinced that Ronda had been murdered--although they could not get the detective to say that.
"Deep down, he knew it, too," Barb remembered. "He just didn't know how to correct the mistakes that had been made and find enough evidence to prove what we all believed. Once again, he told me he'd continue to work on the case, and to feel free to contact him at any time.
"I believed him. He was a sincere, dedicated man."
CHERYL GILBERT offered to help Barb Thompson in planning Ronda's funeral service. As she had told everyone, Ronda and herself had been very close friend. Now she was close to being the center of attention as she bonded with Barb. She even invited Barb to stay with her, an invitation Barb was grateful to accept.
Barb was a lot of help to Cheryl, and she needed to keep her mind occupied. Cheryl's water pipes had frozen in the bitter cold, and Barb crawled under her house and checked all the exposed pipe that was wrapped with electric warming wires. She found the short in the wires and they got the water running again.
Cheryl seemed sincere in her support. She accompanied Barb to the house on Twin Peaks Drive. Ron met them at the door and helped them load the chain-link dog pens and some rubber stall mats he no longer wanted. They didn't talk much, but he did agree to call the Lewis County Coroner's Office and officially release Ronda's body to Barb, who was responsible for the arrangements. Since Christmas was almost upon them, they decided to set Ronda's memorial services for January 4.
Ron gave in a little and allowed Barb to take Ronda's large framed photographs of her and Clabber Toe, and other miscellaneous pictures. Her pickup was stacked high with the kennels, stall mats, and more of Ronda's belongings--so she decided to drive back to Spokane and return with her large four-horse trailer to pick up whatever boxed items Ron was willing to give her. He had made it abundantly clear that he would not let go of anything "personal"--such as Ronda's jewelry, computer, or any cards or correspondence, but he had decided to give her Ronda's old furniture and some of her clothes. He was considering letting go of the antique china her father had left to her.
Barb knew that she had to act fast before he changed his mind. There was little intrinsic value in what Ron was offering, but it meant the world to Barb.
"I was hungry for any morsel he would toss me at this point," she said. "Even old soiled and discarded clothes. How sad, I thought to myself that these simple, meager, seemingly meaningless items would be all I would ever have to remember the vibrant, beautiful daughter I would never hold again."
Barb had already cried until she had no more tears. Her body was numb, and her heart was cold. She chose her words carefully when she spoke to Ron Reynolds, avoiding any mention of the events surrounding Ronda's death, focusing only on trying to soften and persuade Ron to let her have more of Ronda to hold.
"There was no softening this man," Barb wrote in her journal. "He could care less about anything except his need to get rid of what he considered trash, and conceal and withhold anything that might remotely have any material value--or might, in some way, connect him to Ronda's death."
CHERYL OFFERED HER FATHER'S CHURCH in Chehalis for Ronda's services and said he would officiate. The church was generous and offered to assist with the arrangements and prepare songs, flowers, whatever Barb and her family wanted. Ron sat next to her at the mortuary, flipping through cards to select one that suited him to pass out at the funeral.
Barb's need for revenge grew until she feared it would burst out of her, but she forced it down with prayer and determination. She didn't want to hurt her mother, her son, or Ronda's memory. She knew she had to let justice come for her daughter through the law, and not from her own rage.
"I was a walking, ticking time bomb," Barb said. "And not one person realized that but me."
She wondered how long she could maintain control before she gave in to her impulses.
"How long, I wondered. And the answer came: forever. I heard myself say out loud, 'If it takes forever, I will not falter and I will not take the law into my own hands.' I'd made my commitment to myself--and to God."
She drove back to Spokane, a six-hundred-mile round-trip over mountain passes, in the dead of winter, two nights before Christmas Eve. The roads were covered with snow, but the Department of Transportation's plows were out, leaving the roads bare with only the thinnest sheet of frozen glaze to cover the pavement--just enough to reflect the sparkle of oncoming lights, before they passed and the dark night came back.
"The freeway was quiet," she recalled a long time later. "The sky was clear and the stars bright. It was an eerie feeling to be warm and comfortable in my truck, being lulled by the whine of the diesel engine while I looked out at the frozen black night. I had already memorized every milepost, every curve, every fuel stop. I could not have known then how many cross-mountain trips I would take in the years to come."
Barb got home in the wee hours of the morning. She hardly got the front door open before Daisy was jumping on it from the inside, hysterically happy to see her. She got to the couch and lay down, and Daisy was right there, her eyes reflecting how much she'd been missed. Then a sad look came over her eyes as the dog turned away, lay down at Skeeter's feet, and averted her eyes. Barb doubted that she would be home long enough this time for Daisy to forgive her for leaving. It broke her heart.
Skeeter had waited up for her, too, dozing in his reclin
er. He and Freeman had already taken care of all the chores in the barn and with the horses.
"Skeeter had waited up to be sure I was home safe, and to talk. He needed to talk to me," Barb said with regret. "He wanted to hold me and comfort me and find out what had gone on over on the coast--but I couldn't talk. I didn't want to. I wanted to be left alone. Couldn't he understand? The only person I wanted to touch, to hold, to love, was my daughter. How could he even think he could take her place? I didn't realize that I was slowly breaking Skeeter's heart. I was being selfish and cold when all he wanted to do was help me and hold me. I had no idea how helpless and rejected he felt.
"It never entered my mind that I was casting aside a man who loved and cherished me, without a thought or a care. The more he tried to help, the more he tried to comfort, the more I pushed him away. I was too engrossed in my own agony and self-pity to care about his loneliness. That was the beginning of the end."
At that time, so soon after Ronda's death, Barb's emotions were sealed and she thought only about what she had lost. She wanted someone to take care of her home chores, to be there waiting for her when she came home after she did what she had to do.
"I wanted nothing or no one but my daughter," she admits. "And Daisy, the last gift I would ever receive from Ronda."
Daisy would forgive her, but her relationship with Skeeter would starve as she focused only on Ronda's death.
THE NEXT MORNING, Barb saw that Freeman had fueled up her truck and hooked up the horse trailer. It was spotless, and he had made sure there were ample tarps, boxes, and tools for her return trip. All she had to do was grab clean clothes and drive.
Ronda had been dead only a week but it felt like a year.
Barb returned to Lewis County, operating mostly on nerve. If she kept busy enough, she didn't have to let her mind wander into dark corridors full of pain.
She had a quiet Christmas dinner with Cheryl's family. Each evening the two women reminisced about Ronda.
They put together a list of songs for the funeral: "The Wind Beneath My Wings," was Cheryl's choice. "In the Sweet Bye and Bye" was for Gramma Virginia, as well as "Peace in the Valley" by the Statler Brothers. For David Bell, they included "My One and Only Love." Barb, a country-western fan, picked Garth Brooks's "Against the Grain," and "Go Rest High" by Vince Gill.
It took Barb six evenings between Christmas and New Year's Day to put the whole service together, and she found herself consumed with it. Meticulously, she transferred photos from every phase of Ronda's life onto the screen of the church's modern computer setup, reliving the good years. They would show on the screen at her daughter's funeral, timed exactly to the music.
"I pieced together her life, and I noticed that she was always smiling, her eye always sparkling as if she were alive, in person right in front of me, and I felt as if her love surrounded me," Barb said. "I was in a different world every night, refusing to leave it, waking up the next morning to the sound of Cheryl getting ready for work and finding myself covered with my memories as my only warmth through the night."
Barb was in the denial stage of grief, afraid to let splinters of pain break through for fear they would crush her. Planning Ronda's memorial was the last thing she could do for her daughter, and she clung to the details. Barb was remarkably efficient as she meshed schedules, travel, and the script for Ronda's services.
Gramma Virginia would fly from Spokane on the morning of January 4, accompanied by two of Ronda's former classmates, who were like family. When Barb learned that Ron Reynolds was going to attend the memorial, she realized she couldn't let Freeman or Don Hennings attend; she feared they might try to kill Ron with their own rough justice. They both believed that he had brutally taken away someone they loved so much and had always tried to protect. They would have another memorial service in Spokane--and Ron would not be in attendance. Freeman, Skeeter, and Don could come to that one.
Barb's brother Bill had flown immediately to Spokane to stand by her when he learned of Ronda's death--but he couldn't stay through January 4.
Barb had five important male figures in her life, and four could not be with her for Ronda's memorial. But David Bell would be there, even though he was as crippled by grief and shock as she was.
"I knew I could lean on him," she said, "and we'd make it through together."
A DAY OR SO before Ronda's services, Barb and Cheryl Gilbert drove to Toledo to pick up any remainders of Ronda's possessions that Ron would give up. Barb was surprised at the number of things he let her have. Ronda's cranberry-colored couch and love seat were somewhat worn, but her mother was glad to have them. Ron also released Ronda's entertainment center, her hope chest, some more photographs, and, surprisingly, all of his and Ronda's wedding pictures and her Bible. Cheryl wanted that, and Barb couldn't say no to her.
There were numerous pairs of Ronda's shoes neatly packed in Rubbermaid containers, but they weren't new. It was the the same with her clothes. There were a lot of them, but the two women saw that they were all old clothes. Ronda's wedding dress was there, her Patrol coveralls, and a number of coats.
There were blankets, comforters, and some worn-out pillows.
"I was pretty sure they had never belonged to Ronda," Barb guessed, "but simply trash he wanted to discard. He had told me I couldn't have her silver service, but I noticed one of the boys carrying out the dark cherry wood box where she always kept her silverware. I quietly and quickly packed it away without taking time to look inside. I suspected that some of the boxes contained her crystal, and her Elvis Presley plates, along with memorabilia from her father."
After Barb and Cheryl had carried out the couch and love seat--with no help from Ron Reynolds or his teenage sons--they weren't allowed back in the house, and were told to wait outside for the boys to bring things out to them. Beyond the old clothes, they could see that even dirty clothing had been dumped into bags. There was a five-foot ficus tree that Barb's best friend Don Hennings had given Ronda when it was small, and Ron permitted them to take that.
Ron didn't want the dog's leashes, clippers, medications, or other gear.
Cheryl and Barb put Ronda's things in a storage facility and then came back for the dogs.
As they drove away, it was clear that Ronda's presence at 114 Twin Peaks Drive had been obliterated--all but the really expensive furniture purchased since Ron and Ronda's marriage one year and two days before.
Ronda's funeral service took place on January 4, 1999, at a church in Lewis County. Before she had explored the tenets of the Jehovah's Witnesses, Ronda had attended church in Elma--where the pastor was Reverend Jacob Winters*. He presided over her funeral. He was Cheryl Gilbert's father, and Cheryl continued to assure Barb that she had been Ronda's dearest friend for many years. She seemed to espouse the beliefs that Barb had formed, and agreed that Ronda could not possibly have committed suicide.
Barb, Gramma Virginia, and David Bell stood together to greet the throngs of people who walked into the church to celebrate Ronda's life. Barb knew some of them, but there were far more that she didn't recognize. There were the busloads of her daughter's fellow employees from the Bon Marche/Macy's, and dozens of friends from Grays Harbor and Lewis County, plus childhood friends of Ronda's. The mourners moved through the greeting room and stopped to study the pictures that Barb had assembled. She heard people comment that--as she had found--Ronda was smiling in every photo.
There was a wave of muted gasps when Ron Reynolds walked in. He arrived with his former wife, Katie Huttula, on his arm. The couple walked down the aisle and Ron took his seat in a pew near the front of the church on the right side of the aisle with one of his sons. Katie and another son sat directly behind him. A handful of Ron's coworkers sat near him and Katie, and Detectives Jerry Berry and Steve Burress sat in the last row on "Ron's side" of the church. Even the sheriff's investigators seemed surprised to view the obvious demarcation of loyalties taking place in the flower-bedecked church.
Barb Thompson rose on shaking
legs to speak of the lost daughter she loved so much, ending with a hint of what her mission in life had become:
"She has been taken from us--so suddenly, so tragically--that I cannot find words to express the pain, the anger, and the injustice I feel. I do know one thing. I cannot, I will not, quit until I understand totally--until all my questions are answered and I know she can finally rest in peace!"
She could hardly see through her tears as she made her way back to her seat. One by one, people stood up to speak about Ronda's love, devotion, sense of humor, compassion, and zest for life.
Technically and legally, Ron was a newly bereaved widower, and yet he appeared to have swiftly moved on with his life. It was almost as if Ronda had been only a tiny blip in his path. While Katie Huttula looked shaken, Ron betrayed no emotion. There were no tears in his eyes, and he was not one of those who spoke before the crowd.
And then it was over. Jerry Berry walked up to Barb, gave her a quick hug, and whispered, "Hang in there, kid. I have to meet with some people who want to talk. We'll be in touch."
Ron Reynolds was suddenly standing in front of her.
"He walked up to me and began to speak," Barb remembers. "I had held my feelings in for so long--I couldn't do it any longer. Before he could say anything, I heard the words spewing from my mouth.
" 'How does it feel, Ron, to know you are the one person who could have prevented this? I hope God has no mercy on your soul.' "
Too late, David Bell grabbed Barb's shoulders, holding her and tugging her back. Two people she didn't recognize were pulling Ron away. She was livid that he had approached her, that he had brought Katie Huttula to Ronda's services. Barb was aflame with the memories of all the times she had bitten her tongue and pretended that his cruel accusations about Ronda didn't bother her.