by John Glatt
“It began when we arrived in the apartment,” he said. “We saw on their dining room [table] a single rose in a vase. Suddenly Greg starts waxing eloquent about [it]. Well, we looked at each other, thinking we hadn’t heard this kind of comment from Greg in the past. It put us a bit on edge.”
Goldstein asked why he hadn’t told Det Sergeant Robert Jones that story when he’d interviewed him by telephone the day after Greg’s death.
“I did not consider that an interview,” snapped the professor.
Rossum conceded that he had discussed that point with Jones, but not gone into “great detail.” The prosecutor then read the professor back the statement he had given Jones, where he said they’d all had “a pleasant evening” and gone for a “nice meal,” never mentioning Greg’s outburst about the single rose.
“I don’t recall using those words,” he said. “I had been up virtually all night driving down and spending a very distressful evening with my daughter. I talked to this officer. I assumed that he was a campus guard.”
The prosecutor also wondered why he had refused to talk to Sergeant Howard Williams of Homicide in July, and the professor said he could see “nothing of value” in being interviewed. But he admitted giving interviews to a plethora of local and national journalists.
Then the nationally recognized expert in juvenile justice said he had hesitated to be interviewed by the DA’s investigator, Frank Eaton, as the request had only come eight days before the preliminary hearing. He also noted that he had been approached just an hour before Dan Goldstein was scheduled to be interviewed by CBS News, claiming that that was the real reason Eaton had called him.
“I said we would save it for the appropriate time,” declared Rossum, who in the end had granted the investigator a brief interview.
After recessing for lunch, the professor retook the stand, and his exchanges with the prosecution became more and more confrontational.
Tempers became heated when, under questioning, Professor Rossum put forward an entirely new theory about the origin of the fentanyl that killed Greg. In what he presumably considered a case-turning Perry Mason moment, he announced that he had photographic evidence to prove Greg had obtained the fentanyl that had killed him.
A few weeks earlier he had written a response to a question from an MSNBC reporter, claiming that his son-in-law had had “independent access” to fentanyl. Now, questioned by Goldstein about that statement, Rossum said it had come from his daughter. Countering the prosecution’s case that Kristin had stolen fentanyl from the ME’s office, her father stated that he had photographic proof supporting his daughter’s claim that Greg had taken the drug from his father’s medical supplies, kept in storage in Thousand Oaks.
A week before his death, Greg and Kristin had gone to the storage locker to photograph Dr. de Villers’ medical equipment, hoping to sell it on eBay. The reason, claimed Professor Rossum, was that his mother was about to be evicted from her condo and he wanted to help her.
“We have photos,” he said defiantly. “It logs the time and date on the pictures.”
Asked to elaborate, Rossum said Kristin had told him that she and Greg had found three boxes of medical supplies in Dr. de Villers’ locker, one of which contained fentanyl.
“[Greg said] he would take care of disposing of these contents,” he said. “And that was the last she saw of it.”
But when the prosecutor asked whether the photos showed fentanyl, Rossum had to admit it was only “equipment and boxes.” He had no idea how Greg had self-administered the lethal drug.
Questioned why he had never told DA Investigator Eaton about Greg’s alleged access to fentanyl, the professor said he had told him that it would come out at the appropriate time.
“Do you think this is a game?” asked the visibly angry prosecutor.
Suddenly Professor Rossum said he wanted to clear up a misconception about his son-in-law and drugs. Despite Goldstein’s objections, Judge Thompson allowed him to go ahead.
“During the course of this preliminary hearing,” he began, “I have repeatedly heard the word ‘drugs’ used to refer to even prescription and over-the-counter products. And to that extent, it is the case that Kristin had reported Greg to be a kind of medicator, using things to deal with pain and with emotional problems.”
As the de Villers family bristled with anger in the public gallery, Rossum emphasized that he was not referring to illegal drugs.
“Greg would often be in bed when we would call Kristin and him,” he continued. “On several occasions when we would go down, intending to go out to dinner, having reservations made, Greg would not join us. Because we’d learn Greg isn’t feeling well and is in bed all day. We learned that he was often ill on weekends. And in fact we said, ‘Kristin, for this guy who claims to be this vigorous outdoor guy, hiker, camper, he seems sickly a lot.’ ”
When Goldstein questioned Rossum about his daughter’s drug use, he claimed she had never been arrested or charged, despite her Claremont arrest for possession in January 1994.
Rossum said his daughter had taken drugs up to 1995, when Greg had helped her give them up. She had only relapsed two weeks before her husband’s death to help her deal with “emotional problems.” He had discovered that Kristin was back on drugs only after Det Agnew had arrested her for possession in January.
The deputy DA had no further questions, and the defense waived its right to cross-examine or call any witnesses.
Judge Thompson did not take long to make his decision.
“The court finds there are sufficient facts to indicate that the crime alleged in the complaint was committed,” said the judge, as Kristin sat impassively at the defense table. “That the defendant was the perpetrator thereof. She will be held to answer.” Kristin Rossum, young, beautiful, highly intelligent—the wild child daughter of a conservative academic who had made his career demanding that society hold kids responsible for their trespasses—was going to be put on trial for murder.
On October 25, Kristin spent her 25th birthday behind bars in solitary confinement at Las Colinas Women’s Detention Facility. She was granted special permission from the jail to receive Holy Communion from an Episcopal priest in a visiting room. Later that day, her parents spent half an hour with her, communicating by telephone through bullet-proof glass.
Back in Melbourne, Michael Robertson read that he was still under investigation for his role in Greg’s death.
“There is compelling circumstantial evidence against Mr. Robertson,” Dan Goldstein told an Australian reporter. “We are actively investigating his involvement in the death of de Villers.”
Chapter 25
A Last Gasp of Freedom
On November 9, 2001—three days after the first anniversary of Greg de Villers’ death—San Diego DA Paul Pfingst decided not to go for the death penalty at Kristin Rossum’s murder trial, now scheduled for next June. But she still faced life in prison if convicted.
“It’s good news,” Ralph Rossum declared. “It means that the jurors who may be riding the fence can’t split the difference by saying, ‘I’ll vote to convict, but not on the other [death penalty].’ This means you can’t be a fence-rider.”
Five days later, Greg de Villers’ parents filed a $2.1 million wrongful death suit against Kristin, Michael Robertson and the county for negligence. Their attorney, Craig McClellan, contended that the ME’s office bore some responsibility for Greg’s death, for failing to run a background check on Kristin’s drug history and then not supervising her access to dangerous drugs.
The suit read: “As a former drug user, in charge of the log book for the evidence locker containing dangerous drugs, she was not subjected to any random or even scheduled drug tests. She began having illicit sexual intercourse with her boss, Michael D. Robertson, who was the Chief Toxicologist of the Office of the Medical Examiner, and the person in charge of the toxicology evidence locker, containing the street and dangerous drugs.”
The suit maintained that R
ossum had been allowed to take drugs she stole at work, even storing them in her desk.
“Robertson, her lover, knew that the woman he was sleeping with was on drugs, having declared himself an expert on the classic side-effects and signs of ... drug ... intoxication.”
It alleged that the ME’s office was aware of the improper affair, even paying for the couple to travel to Milwaukee for the SOFT conference.
On November 5 or 6, 2000, said the suit, a methamphetamine-addicted Kristin, had administered drugs to Greg and put him in a catatonic state, with Dr. Robertson’s knowledge and help.
Then, on the day Greg died, “she administered fatal doses to her unconscious, unknowing and unsuspecting husband. Either shortly before or shortly after the administration of the fatal dose of fentanyl, Rossum and her lover, Robertson, anticipating de Villers’ death, spent several intimate hours together.”
It alleged that Kristin dialed 911 only after she was certain that Greg was irretrievably dead.
After Greg’s death, it contended, the ME’s office had given its permission for Rossum to donate her husband’s “skin, eyes, veins” and other crucial organs before an autopsy could be carried out.
“The Office of the Medical Examiner intended to quickly release the body to its Chief Toxicologist’s lover, Rossum, for immediate cremation,” it continued. “But the protestations of family and friends of Gregory de Villers, the intervention of the police department at the family’s request, and a court order prohibiting the destruction of Mr. de Villers’ remains, put an end to what would have been a near perfect crime.”
Six months later, Kristin filed Chapter Thirteen bankruptcy, halting the civil proceedings in their tracks. She claimed she had credit card debts of $30,862, offering to pay off a chunk of it over a three-year period at $330 a month.
Attorney McClellan argued that her filing was intended to “delay or interfere” with the civil case, and made in bad faith. Eventually a U.S. Bankruptcy Court judge granted a motion from Marie de Villers that the civil case resume.
Just days after Kristin Rossum was ordered to stand trial for the murder of her husband, her mother gave an exclusive interview to Good Housekeeping. The seven-page feature, which would run the following March, was entitled, “My Daughter Is Innocent.”
Illustrated with pictures of Kristin as a beautiful young child and at her graduation, the savvy marketing executive portrayed her daughter as an innocent victim of circumstantial evidence and damning lies, spread by the de Villers family.
“The details of this case have unfolded like a Hollywood thriller,” wrote journalist Joanna Powell. “The Rossums, now battling to save their daughter, claim that their side of the story has not been heard and that they have evidence that could exonerate Kristin.”
Constance said she and her husband were “angry, frustrated and scared,” describing it as “a living death” for Kristin, who could spend the rest of her life behind bars. She accused the media of “making things up” and spreading misinformation, claiming that everyone wanted to cash in on Kristin’s misfortune. She explained how Kristin had gotten into drugs after a serious injury derailed her dreams of becoming a professional ballerina. She’d then left home to move to San Diego to get away from drugs, and met Greg de Villers, who helped her get clean.
Saying she considered Greg “our angel,” Constance described him as “bright, charming and attractive.” But when Kristin had told him she wanted out of the marriage, he could not accept it.
“Greg loved Kristin to the point of obsession,” she said. “She was like his pretty prize.”
She claimed that her son-in-law was “spiraling down” during the last year of his life, becoming “nervous and irritable.”
Then, she said, he had killed himself, and the scattered rose petals and framed picture of their wedding were his suicide note.
After accusing Greg’s family of being unable to accept that he had either committed suicide or accidentally died in a “theatrical bid for sympathy,” she repeated the claim her husband had made at the preliminary hearing.
“We know that Greg had taken fentanyl before and had liked the effect,” she stated. “And we also know that he had independent access to the drug.”
Since her daughter’s arrest, said Constance, both she and her husband have sought medical attention for stress-related illness. She said it had been very hard on them mentally, but that they were carrying on the best they could for their daughter.
“It’s frightening because it’s so wrong,” she said. “Kristin has been accused of murder and she’s innocent. But the truth will come out when we finally get to court.”
Finally, Kristin Rossum had some good news at the end of November, when Judge Thompson agreed to release her from jail on 1.25 million dollars bail.
“[It’s] a nut we can crack,” Ralph Rossum confidently told reporters. He said they would put up their house for bail bond collateral, and dip into their retirement savings. The Kristin Rossum Defense Fund, he added, now stood at $30,000.
At 3:00 p.m., Friday, January 4, 2002, Kristin was released on bail, returning to her parents’ home in Claremont. With a crew from CBS-TV’s 48 Hours filming, the prodigal daughter alternated between laughing and crying as the Rossums celebrated her release with a champagne toast to their “innocent” daughter. This was an image that would later come back to haunt her as it was repeatedly shown on television.
“I did not harm my husband in any way,” Kristin defiantly told reporters as she left jail, wearing a black sweater and gray pants, a simple string of pearls around her neck. “I look forward to proving my innocence in court this summer.”
Professor Rossum was visibly emotional when he was reunited with his daughter after her six months of incarceration.
“I’m going to be able to hug my baby,” he said. “She is delighted, happy, and looking forward to having a kind of semblance of normalcy in her life.”
And he thanked Judge Thompson, along with friends and family who had helped swell his daughter’s defense fund to $40,000. To make bail, the Rossums had put up $125,000, which was non-refundable, as well as their home and her two brothers’ investment accounts as security. Her TriLink boss Rick Hogrefe, who had kept her job open, also generously contributed, as did a retired judge who was a friend of the family.
But Deputy DA Dan Goldstein was less pleased, telling an Associated Press reporter, “This is a woman who, every time the police have come in contact with her, was either under the influence of methamphetamine or in possession of methamphetamine. I have serious concerns that she is going to be in the public.”
Two weeks after she was released, Judge Thompson called am emergency hearing, placing a gag order on Kristin and all the attorneys and investigators involved in her case. Accusing the Rossums of attempting to try the case in the media, the judge voiced frustration that he was unable to find a law to muzzle Kristin’s parents.
He told Professor Rossum that he firmly believed the extensive press interviews he had been giving were an attempt to “poison the jury pool.”
“If I could, I would issue a gag order on him as well,” thundered the judge, who threatened to move the trial to Imperial County. He also took a hit at Professor Rossum, advising the renowned constitutional scholar to review the landmark Supreme Court ruling in the famous 1954 Dr. Sam Sheppard case, which inspired the movie and long-running TV series The Fugitive.
“I’m going to do what I should have done when this case came to me,” he snapped, warning lawyers for both the defense and prosecution, and all police and support staff not to talk to reporters.
Kristin spent the rest of January with her parents, before leaving to return to her apartment in San Diego. She resumed her job at TriLink in February, starting part-time but going full-time within a few weeks.
The TriLink staff were highly supportive and utterly convinced of her innocence. They believed she had been railroaded by the DA’s office. How could such a beautiful, quietly spoken, fri
endly girl murder her husband?
Kristin was now something of a celebrity in San Diego, and when she went out on the town with her friends Claire Becker and Jessica Vanella, heads would turn. During her six months in jail, Jessica had been a regular visitor and they’d become close friends. Soon after she returned to TriLink, Jessica and her mother Kathy invited Kristin to stay over at their home several nights a week, so she wouldn’t have to make the long drive back from Orange County to her downtown apartment.
According to the Vanellas, Kristin was the perfect house guest. She got on well with Jessica’s grandmother Dee Dee, and every Thursday night she would join the Vanellas and their friends to go remote control racing on a track they’d built on their forty-acre lot. Kristin even found a new boyfriend named Zack Hoover, who promised to stand by her through the upcoming trial.
In March, San Diego Union-Tribune writer Caitlin Rother wrote a feature on the Kristin Rossum case for Cosmopolitan magazine. It contained a wedding picture of Kristin and Greg that they had sent out to friends and family the previous Christmas. The magazine had first approached the Rossums for the picture, but they had refused. Editors then secured one from the de Villerses.
Soon after the article came out, Constance Rossum wrote a letter to the de Villerses’ attorney Craig McClellan, demanding $2,000 from their in-laws, citing the “illegal” usage, and demanding a penalty. The letter also said, “We will hold you/them responsible for any misuse of any photos.”
“It’s the standard fee as I understand it,” Constance would later explain. It was my picture for use in Cosmopolitan, and I had told them so.”
On April 10, 48 Hours broadcast a half-hour segment on the Kristin Rossum case, featuring interviews with all the principals, including the Rossums and Michael Robertson. The program had been recorded before Judge Thompson’s gag order in January, and had the full cooperation of the Rossum family.