The Rising
Page 26
But now, instead of minutes, Bill Petit is able to string together stretches of good hours, entire portions of a day when he feels good. Absolutely, unapologetically, and completely good. The long night has given way to a new kind of dawn, filled with the sunshine of a little boy’s smile.
Bill changes diapers in the middle of the night. Feeds the boy, walks him around bouncing him, calms him if he’s crying. He’s fifty-seven years old and has an eight-month-old baby, but he feels healthy, all things considered. If he’s tired, he’s no more tired than he’s ever been. And while he loves whisking his boy all over the place, because it’s never too early to see what the world is like, some of the best times are at home, in the little house by the river, his wife there, her knees tucked under her in the chair by the big window, the water rushing by outside, water boiling for tea on the electric stove, when Bill settles his hulking frame onto the couch, the afghan blanket under his head, and he can feel the pressure dissipate from his body as his bones settle, and Little Bill lies on his chest, and the two of them slowly close their eyes, the baby rising and falling gently with his father’s breath, his tiny pink fingers twitching a little as he learns how to dream, and for a peaceful, perfect hour together, they sleep.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I GREW UP in Connecticut, about a twenty-five-minute drive from Cheshire, where Bill Petit and his family lived the night they were attacked. My town was a lot like Cheshire: suburban, peaceful, and possessive of a strong sense of community. Safe. A good place to raise a family. I remember thinking when it happened that it could have been my house, on my street, in my town.
Three years later I was living in New York City and working as an editor at Esquire when, visiting my parents back in Connecticut for the weekend, I heard Bill Petit’s voice on the radio. He was welcoming the public to attend the annual 5K road race that would benefit the foundation he had set up in memory of his wife and daughters. His voice sounded strong and healthy, and it was shocking. I felt compelled to find out more about this person and how he had found a way to live his life. I asked the editor in chief of Esquire, David Granger, if I could do the story. I told him that it struck me as a story of survival and redemption, and I hoped it was. Knowing next to nothing about Petit, judging mostly by the sound of his voice, I thought that the fact that Bill Petit was still alive enough to even have a voice might be inspiring to people.
For the next few months, I was in New Haven almost every day, attending the proceedings in State of Connecticut v. Steven Hayes. I soon learned that most of the several dozen other reporters in the courtroom every day also wanted to interview Bill Petit, but that Bill Petit didn’t give interviews. I eventually called Rick Healey, a lawyer and Petit family friend who acted as a sort of liaison with the media, who confirmed as much. After the trial, I began making calls to whomever I could think of outside of Petit’s family and close friends: a woman with whom he had coauthored a reference book on diabetes, college classmates, reporters who had covered the actual crime. Few people would talk to me without Petit’s permission. A few days later I received a call from Healey, who had heard about some of my inquiries and asked if I was actually going ahead with a story. I told him I was. Healey said that in that case, he had spoken with Bill, and I was hereby authorized to interview some of those closest to him: his sister, Hanna; his father, Bill Sr.; his oldest friend, Ron Bucchi; and a former close medical colleague, Steve Hanks.
In addition to the access Petit (through Healey) granted, I continued to seek out and interview people outside his inner circle and to conduct independent research. I attended the trials of Steven Hayes and Joshua Komisarjevsky almost in their entirety.
Eventually Bill married again, to the former Christine Paluf, and I wanted to write a second story for Esquire. For this I would need access to Bill himself. I called Ron Bucchi and explained my desire to write another story that would show readers that it was possible to embrace life even after such unspeakable evil. Ron arranged a dinner with himself, Bill, and me at a restaurant Bill liked. This was the first time I ever met Bill. I told him that after the first story was published, I had heard from many people who said they felt inspired by him, and that they thought about him often as they dealt with whatever troubles their own lives brought. I told him I wanted to write another story so that as many people as possible could know about him and, maybe, feel inspired, too.
I ended up interviewing Bill and Christine extensively, at their home, at foundation events, and over meals, and I will be forever grateful for their generosity, hospitality, and candor. I also once again found value in seeking information independent of Bill to make sure the story was as complete as possible. The same was true in writing this book. I am indebted to everyone who spoke to me, many of whom revisited painful memories in their efforts to help me fully understand the story.
A list of all those interviewed, in addition to Bill and Christine Petit, is as follows:
Hanna Petit-Chapman, who was unfailingly patient, honest, and kind during our interviews, and I thank her for every minute of them;
Ron Bucchi, who offered not only stories and insights about his friend’s life but advice and guidance whenever I needed it, often accompanied by a glass of good whiskey;
Bill’s parents, Bill Sr. and Barbara Petit, who were generous with their time and their thoughts, and I truly appreciate their support;
Cynthia Renn, Jennifer’s sister, who spent many hours on the phone telling me about Jennifer’s life before and after meeting Bill Petit;
the late Dennis Chapman, Hanna’s husband, a kind and thoughtful man who spoke eloquently about his brother-in-law and about Jennifer, Hayley, and Michaela;
Abby and Andrew Chapman, Dennis and Hanna’s two extraordinary children;
Patty Poisson and her remarkable children, Otis and Mairi;
Jeremiah Donovan, who spoke with me patiently and at length about his own life and the unique nature of his work;
and others who shared essential remembrances, insights, and bits of information: Steve Hanks, Susan Bucchi, the Reverend Stephen Volpe, Herb Graham, Sue Haigh, Todd Bussert, Terry Donovan, Jerry Kristafer, and Hayley Hovhanessian. Additional sources include the Plainville Public Library and the Rauner Special Collections Library at Dartmouth College.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
WITHOUT THE generous and trusting participation of Bill Petit and his wife, Christine, when I was reporting two feature stories for Esquire, this book would not have been possible. They spent many long hours answering every question I had with care and thoughtfulness, and I will be forever grateful for their openness, their time, and their trust. Bill also facilitated interviews with members of his family and his close friends, which was invaluable.
Hanna Petit-Chapman, Ron Bucchi, and Bill Sr. and Barbara Petit were incredibly kind and open to talking with me, and my interviews with them are a large part of the foundation of this book. (The names and contributions of other people I interviewed can be found in the Author’s Note.)
I owe an insurmountable debt to David Granger, the editor in chief of Esquire, for his encouragement and support. I have learned more from him, about a great many things, than he could know.
Mark Warren, my editor at Esquire, was a guiding force from the day I set out to write about Bill Petit. He is a tireless teacher who cares deeply about stories and their power. I leaned on him at every turn.
My agent, Richard Pine, is as cool as they come, and his wise words kept me on track more than once. I want also to thank Rick Horgan, the editor who acquired this book for Crown and was its early champion, and Kevin Doughten, who edited it with compassion, reason, and clarity. And a thank-you to Claire Potter at Crown for making sure it all happened something close to on time.
I first knew Rick Healey, a member of the Petit Family Foundation who served as the family’s liaison with reporters, as a stranger on the other end of the phone, but in time he became a friendly sounding board. As the man wedged between the media and the Pe
tit family, he showed nothing but wisdom and grace.
Several fellow reporters offered selfless assistance to me, a novice courtroom reporter, during the trials: Robert Goulston of WFSB showed me the ropes and has become a good friend, as has Bill Glaberson of the New York Times, whose wit and experience heightened the quality of my own work. Helen Ubinas of the Hartford Courant and Erin Cox of WTNH shared freely their veteran advice, and Randall Beach of the New Haven Register helped me with his recollections and insights.
My sister Elizabeth Carpenter and her husband, Joe, opened their house to me during long stints reporting in New Haven, and I always felt at home and well fed. My father-in-law, John Moran, did the same while I was writing, providing a quiet retreat on the shores of the Chesapeake. I also spent a week in my childhood bedroom writing without being interrupted except for perfect dinners with my parents, evenings I will never forget. Yvonne Fisher, my mother-in-law, helped immensely throughout the project.
I was extremely lucky to have a handful of highly intelligent people to read this book at various stages and offer much-needed critiques: Kendall Hamilton, Jon Gluck, Peter Heimbold, Robert Goulston, my mother, Sheila D’Agostino, and my brother Michael, who stayed up all night—twice—so I could read it to him. Each of them made the book better.
Thanks also to John Kenney, peerless copy editor, for his careful reading of this story over the course of several years, and for his many words of wisdom. And to João Canziani, for his amazing photographs.
In the Connecticut Judicial Branch: head marshal Thomas Bouley, public affairs officers Rhonda Hebert and Melissa Farley, and court reporter Jean Kindley are all true professionals who were always willing to help.
Thank you also to Andy Ward, Lindsay and Rett Coluccio, Eloise Bune D’Agostino, Margo Estrada, Susan and Richard Romanski, Chris Jones, Tom Junod, Tom Chiarella, Cal Fussman, Francine Maroukian, Katie Heimbold, Margaret Felice, Peter Griffin, Ross McCammon, Rich Dorment, Tyler Cabot, Peter Martin, Michael Norseng, Lisa Hintelmann, Ellen Levine, Lucy Kaylin, Gayle King, Alexandra Carlin, and David Curcurito, all of whom helped me in significant ways.
The three people to whom I owe the most are my sons and my wise and loving wife, Sarah, who was unflinching with her support from beginning to end, listening to me every night and encouraging me every day. Her strength, her patience, and her capacity for love astonish and inspire me constantly.
I look forward to the day when our two boys are old enough to read this book, so that they, too, can be inspired by the man at its center.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RYAN D’AGOSTINO is the editor in chief of Popular Mechanics magazine. Previously, he was an editor at Esquire, and he has written for The New Yorker, Ski, and other publications. He lives in New York with his family.
To learn more about or donate to the Petit Family Foundation, visit petitfamilyfoundation.org. (The Petit Family Foundation is not affiliated with this book nor did it participate in the writing or publication of this book in any way.)
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