by John Glatt
In a dramatic jailhouse interview from Las Colinas jail, a teary-eyed Kristin denied stealing fentanyl from the ME’s office, saying that all the other employees had access too.
“It is above and beyond any nightmare I could ever imagine,” she sobbed to reporter Bill Lagattuta. “I am not a murderer. I did not harm my husband.”
Kristin also offered up her bizarre theory that Greg had deliberately killed himself in order to frame her and Dr. Robertson for his murder.
From Melbourne, Dr. Robertson also proclaimed his innocence, denying that he was hiding out in Australia. But he agreed that if the prosecution theory that Greg was injected with a massive dose of fentanyl was correct, he would never have lived long enough to get rid of the needle, which was never found.
“It can look suspicious,” he said nervously. “Absolutely.”
Admitting that he understood why he was under investigation, Dr. Robertson said he was certain that Greg’s death was not homicide and Kristin was not the type of person who would even consider killing her husband.
Dan Goldstein also weighed in on the program, describing the prosecution’s case against Rossum as “immaculate.”
One day after the broadcast, Judge Thompson angrily reacted, sealing all pre-trial documents to prevent further contamination of an “already polluted jury pool.”
“There has been a concerted effort to indoctrinate or otherwise influence the potential jury pool in this case through the media,” wrote Judge Thompson in his ruling. “The public banter back and forth between both sides in this case, fueled by what we see as an insatiable appetite of the media for the latest chapter in this macabre saga, left the court at the outset with little choice but to issue a gag order, precluding either side from commenting further on the case.”
Judge Thompson rejected a motion from The San Diego Union-Tribune to gain access to court documents for the case.
The Union-Tribune immediately appealed Judge Thompson’s ruling, and on April 23, the 4th District Court of Appeal ordered him to unseal the documents and release them to the media.
But the media were not Judge Thompson’s only problems with the case. In March, prosecutor Dan Goldstein won his election to become a Supreme Court judge, and would take his place on the bench the following January. The Rossum defense immediately filed a motion to have Goldstein removed from the case, saying it would be a conflict of interest and lead to an unfair trial as he was a potential judge when the trial was scheduled.
The Ethics Committee of the California Judges Association weighed in, asserting that his being a judge-elect would not be a conflict of interest. Thompson denied the motion.
That spring, while it was still uncertain whether Dan Goldstein would remain on the case, another deputy district attorney from the Family Protection Division named Dave Hendren was drafted in as a possible replacement. A graduate of UCLA Law School, Hendren was a boyish-looking 42 years old and had been a San Diego prosecutor for eleven years. Married with two children, he was a veteran of more than one hundred trials, including five murder cases.
When he was appointed to the Rossum case, he had just one month to acquaint himself with it. The sheer volume of material was staggering. By the time it came to trial, the case had generated more than 25,000 pages of documents, the equivalent of eighty novels. There was also a massive amount of electronic data, including hundreds of e-mails, and Web sites visited by Kristin and other people involved in the months before Greg’s death. It was estimated that if all the electronic data was ever printed up, it would tower higher than the Washington Monument.
And when Hendren was assigned to the case, there was a good chance he might have to prosecute it alone, if the defense successfully appealed Judge Thompson’s ruling on Goldstein.
“I had to become a fast learner,” said Hendren. “I had a lot to read, there was no doubt about that.”
Over the next few months, Hendren became consumed with the voluminous case, spending almost every waking hour reading it. He said he began with an open mind, but before long he became convinced of Kristin’s guilt.
“There were a large number of coincidences, if she was to be innocent,” he said later. “I started seeing more and more things piece-by-piece, and the puzzle started to fit perfectly.”
He even enlisted his 110-pound wife Marissa in an experiment in their bedroom to see if it was possible to give CPR while talking on the telephone. Hendren, who weighs 165 pounds, almost the same as Greg de Villers, lay on the bed as his wife tried to pull him off, as Kristin had claimed she had. They found it was impossible while talking on the phone.
“It didn’t seem like she could have done everything she said,” he said. “So one of the things was: could she even pull her husband off the bed by herself? If she did, how would she do it?”
Soon after he came on board, Hendren got a break when Judge Thompson delayed the trial date until October 4, to give him, and the other attorneys, more time to prepare for the case. It also gave Kristin Rossum a few more months of freedom.
In June, as Kristin Rossum tried to live as normal a life as possible, another sensational San Diego murder case competed for the public’s attention. David Westerfield went on trial for the murder and kidnapping of 7-year-old Danielle van Dam. The case, which was covered gavel-to-gavel by Court TV, made front-page headlines daily, throwing the spotlight off Rossum. Ultimately, Westerfield was found guilty and sentenced to death. Court TV had also wanted to broadcast the Rossum case live, but Judge Thompson had ruled to prohibit cameras in his courtroom.
Behind the scenes, Kristin’s defense team was busy. In August they filed a motion to move the trial to another county, claiming that it would be impossible for her to have a fair hearing after all the publicity. The defense even commissioned San Diego State University to conduct a telephone poll, asking 303 San Diego County residents what they knew of the Rossum case. Fifty-seven percent said they had heard of it, out of which twenty percent thought she was guilty and only four percent believed her innocent.
Judge Thompson postponed ruling on a change of venue, saying he would decide after he had determined if an impartial jury could be found.
On the same day, the defense also filed court papers claiming that fentanyl is not a recognized poison, and is not defined in state law. The prosecution countered that California criminal jury instructions defined poison as any substance introduced into the body that can cause death.
The prosecution told the judge that fentanyl, combined with the two other drugs found in Greg’s body, would certainly cause substantial injury or illness, and fall under the definition of poison. After considering the motion, Superior Court Judge Judith Hayes sided with the prosecution, refusing to dismiss the allegation that Kristin had poisoned her husband.
Dan Goldstein and Dave Hendren were also working around the clock, subpoenaing Kristin’s bank records and other paper trails she may have left in the days leading up to Greg’s death. The DA’s paralegal, Meredith Dent, worked the Rossum case full-time, and on September 30, as a lengthy jury questionnaire was finally agreed to by the defense and prosecution, she hit the jackpot.
While sifting through Kristin’s ATM withdrawals, the 32-year-old paralegal noticed that Kristin had gotten money from Vons on the day of Greg’s death. Meredith then contacted the store, requesting all records for that date. A security officer then sent her the records for Kristin’s Vons Club Card for November 6, 2000, which listed every item she had purchased that day.
“I was going through the records,” remembered Dent, “and at the bottom of the page it said ‘single rose.’ I said, ‘My Gosh!’ and literally jumped up and told Dave Hendren, ‘Look what she purchased from Vons on November sixth.’ ”
Hendren was so excited, he rushed into Dan Goldstein’s office, yelling at him to get off the phone. Proof that she had bought a single rose at Vons at midday on the day of Greg’s death was damning evidence against Kristin, providing almost undeniable proof of where the rose petals s
cattered around his body had come from.
It was a major victory for the prosecution, and not well received by the defense the following day when Hendren informed them about it. Public Defender Alex Loebig would later describe this key piece of evidence as “devastating,” saying that the prosecution had been lucky, only discovering it through “an intuitive lark” by a paralegal.
On Monday, October 7, Kristin had an appointment to meet with her defense team to discuss the implications of the new single rose evidence. That morning she called 911 from the hotel room where she was staying before the trial, complaining that she was having a panic attack. When paramedics arrived, they found her face-down in bed clutching a teddy bear.
Later, she would deny that the panic attack had been brought on by the explosive new evidence that she had bought a rose the day of Greg’s death.
“That had nothing to do with it,” she claimed. “The whole process was starting. I was scared to death.”
Chapter 26
The Trial
On Friday, October 4, 2002, jury selection began for the Kristin Rossum trial. One hundred and fifty potential jurors turned up at the West Broadway court and were given a twenty-eight-page questionnaire to fill in. It included such questions as: “Do you believe that a person who maintains a sexual or romantic relationship outside his or her marriage is more likely to commit an act of domestic violence against his or her spouse? If yes, please explain”; and “What television and radio programs do you view or listen to on a regular basis? Do you watch Court TV, Law and Order, or Crime and Punishment? If yes, which show(s) do you watch and do you watch regularly?”
Judge Thompson immediately sealed the questionnaire and a list of 135 potential witnesses, but relented a few days later, after The San Diego Union-Tribune protested. The witnesses included Michael Robertson, although he had told his civil attorney he had no plans to leave Australia to testify.
The judge also reversed his earlier decision to reserve two rows of bench seating for the press during the trial, saying he didn’t see why reporters should get preferential treatment over the public. And the tough-talking judge warned that if any reporter attempted to interview a juror, he would “throw his ass in jail.”
It took one week to whittle down the vast jury pool to just twelve jurors and four alternates, who saw Kristin break into tears as they were selected. The five men and seven women who would decide her fate included a software engineer, a public relations executive and a cryptologist.
“You will, in essence, be the judges of the facts,” the judge told them. “You must keep an open mind in this case.”
On Tuesday, October 15, the trial of Kristin Rossum began at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Kristin and her parents, who were staying at nearby hotels, were swarmed by TV crews and reporters as they arrived at the courthouse. They went through security before taking the elevator to the third floor at Judge Thompson’s Department 38 courtroom, where a line of reporters and members of the public had gathered.
Looking more like a fashion model than a defendant in a murder trial, Kristin was dressed in a stylish black suit with a white top. Taking her place at the defense table she appeared composed, even smiling when the jury was seated.
Prosecutor Dan Goldstein then stood up to deliver his opening statement, cutting straight to the chase.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “Kristin Rossum was a toxicologist at the San Diego Medical Examiner’s. She murdered her husband by stealing a little-known drug called fentanyl. She stole it from the medical examiner’s office, and she administered it to her husband.
“She did this to protect two relationships. One was her love for a drug called methamphetamine. She also murdered him for another love, and that was for the chief toxicologist. His name is Michael Robertson.”
Telling the jury that they would never see Dr. Robertson in the courtroom, the deputy DA called him as “an unindicted co-conspirator,” saying that he would be an integral part of this homicide.
“She saw the medical examiner’s office as a veritable candy store of drugs,” he continued. “There are so many drugs missing ... most of them she’s either used or they were in Greg de Villers’ body at the time of his death.”
Likening the case to a “murder mystery,” Goldstein told the jury it was packed with “sex, drugs, motives and innuendoes,” but they would see that everything led to Kristin’s guilt.
“Now, what this trial is is merely an intersection,” said Goldstein. “It’s an intersection of all the lies that the defendant has told in the cover-up of this homicide, prior to the homicide, and during her relationship with Greg de Villers.”
Throughout Goldstein’s opening statements, Kristin shook her head, mouthing comments under her breath and trying to make visual contact with jurors. She would continue doing this with all the prosecution witnesses and it did not go unnoticed by Judge Thompson.
Goldstein told the jury that Kristin came from a background of wealth and privilege, but had “terrible insecurities” that led to her drug addiction.
“To Kristin Rossum and the Rossum family, image is everything,” said the prosecutor. “That’s why it was so important for Kristin Rossum to hide her addictions and her affair from her parents.”
Greg de Villers, he said, came into her life as a savior, rescuing her from drugs. Over the next few years with Greg, her life changed and she went through university, finding a good job as a toxicologist. But she also had easy access to methamphetamine in the ME’s office and became infatuated with her boss, Michael Robertson.
“What’s interesting, though,” said Goldstein, “is the extent to which the defendant was able to burn the candle at both ends. In one hour of the day, she would be e-mailing Greg de Villers, saying, ‘I love you more than anything in the world. How come you don’t e-mail me more often?’ Twenty minutes later, she’s e-mailing Robertson, saying, ‘I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.’ ” Goldstein told the jury they would receive a color-coded comprehensive notebook of all e-mails between Kristin, Robertson and Greg.
He told the jury that Kristin had lied and deceived Greg about Dr. Robertson, but he finally found out and confronted her lover. And when Greg threatened to reveal her drug use and her affair to the chief medical examiner, said Goldstein, she decided to kill him.
“She was out of control, using dangerous drugs,” he said, dramatically holding up a single red rose in front of the jury. “She had an affair that had reached an apocalypse. [Greg] was going to turn her in for an affair and using meth. She knew that she would lose her job, and she knew that Michael Robertson would lose his work visa and he would be out of the country. The defendant is guilty of murdering Greg de Villers. We are going to prove that.”
Then, after four hours on his feet, Dan Goldstein sat down and, following a short recess, public defender Alex Loebig began his opening statement to the jury. He would speak for just forty-five minutes while Kristin wept at the defense table.
Loebig began by telling the jury that Kristin would later testify, telling in her own words what had happened. He then started to paint a picture of Kristin far different from the prosecutor’s version.
“I don’t think that Ms. Rossum was brought up with the silver spoon that was alluded to,” he began. “This is not a blue-blood family with a black sheep in it.”
It had been “love at first sight,” said Loebig, when Kristin and Greg had met in Tijuana. But after he helped her kick her drug problem, Kristin began to have doubts about their relationship.
“It wasn’t too long after the wedding that Kristin determined that maybe Greg wasn’t the soul mate for her,” said the public defender. “When Michael Robertson walked in, he had an accent, he had a Ph.D., he played rugby. He was one smooth guy.”
He accused the prosecution of greatly exaggerating Kristin’s drug use. He also said that Greg couldn’t face the thought of living without her when she told him she was leaving.
“He wasn’t
in a happy place,” Loebig told the jury. “It’s very possible that that lethal drug was in the glass by the bed and that Greg drank it shortly thereafter. Greg told Kristin Rossum any number of times, from very close to the beginning of their relationship, that he didn’t want to live without her. On November 6, unfortunately, before he could tell anybody else, he showed Kristin that he couldn’t live without her.”
Once opening statements were over, the prosecution began its elaborately prepared case against Kristin, which would take almost two weeks to present. Dan Goldstein and David Hendren called a procession of paramedics, homicide investigators, ME’s office employees and experts, who all presented damning evidence, just as they had in the preliminary hearing.
One witness, drug expert Dr. Theodore Stanley, told the jury he had never seen such high levels of fentanyl present in a body in his thirty years of studying the drug as an anesthesiologist. Greg de Villers had 57.3 nanograms per milligram of fentanyl in his blood—fourteen times the fatal dose that would stop breathing.
He testified that it was possible that Greg had been given the tasteless, odorless drug orally, maybe in water. Within twenty to thirty minutes, he would have exhibited slurred speech and other signs of sedation.
“If he had one huge amount, he could have [had] enough to kill him in a couple of hours,” testified Dr. Stanley. “I have never seen this high of a blood level.”
The expert told Goldstein that the fentanyl could also have been administered by Band-Aid-like patches, but it would have taken fifteen to twenty of them to achieve such high levels.
Goldstein then asked about the effects of injecting fentanyl into a victim.
“If the injection is intravenous, the peak effect will occur in about five minutes,” he testified. “If the injection is intramuscular, the peak effect will probably take fifteen to twenty minutes.”