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Cruel Doubt

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by Joe McGinniss




  Acclaim for the

  Stunning New York Times Bestseller

  CRUEL DOUBT

  “AS USUAL, McGINNISS HAS PRODUCED A GRIPPING, SUSPENSEFUL, HORRIFIC ACCOUNT. . . . The plot unfolds in McGinniss’s trademark style of chronological, blow-by-blow exposition. . . . CRUEL DOUBT WILL KEEP YOU UP AT NIGHT, TURNING PAGE AFTER PAGE DESPITE THE HORROR OF IT ALL.”—The San Diego Union

  “Hugely detailed . . . [AN] ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING ACCOUNT OF A FAMILY MURDER.”—Entertainment Weekly

  “A SEARING LOOK AT MURDER IN A FAMILY . . . [AT] THE TOP OF THE ‘TRUE CRIME’ GENRE. . . . McGinniss has a true feel for the distinctive rhythms that make a place, and an eye to the inner workings of the human psyche. His stories are always compelling because he renders settings and characters in such a way that the reader feels an emotional commitment to how things turn out. And he has a deft touch . . . so the reader keeps moving through the pages. IN THE END, THIS STORY, LIKE MOST TRAGIC CIRCUMSTANCES IN LITERATURE SINCE HOMER, REVOLVES AROUND LOYALTY AND BETRAYAL. . . . CRUEL DOUBT IS AN UNCOMMONLY REVEALING EXPLORATION OF THAT COMMON THEME.”—The Washington Times

  A LITERARY GUILD® ALTERNATE SELECTION

  “Masterfully weaves together the tangled threads of the most shocking and grisly murder case in recent memory . . . SPELLBINDING.”—Sacramento Union

  “McGinniss [is] the Alfred Hitchcock of the true crime genre, a genre he often transcends.”—The Boston Globe

  “What McGinniss . . . does so superbly is to bring us just a little closer to the heart of darkness and make us understand that there is, in the end, no accounting for human behavior.”—The Detroit News

  “McGinniss again shows why he heads the ranks of true crime authors—delivering a page burner of shifting suspicions, macabre ironies, and reversals of field too extreme for fiction.”—Kirkus Reviews

  “A lurid psychological thriller and a detective story with all the intriguing detail of a classic whodunit. . . . We begin to perceive a purposeful spiraling as we draw closer and closer to the truth. . . . What is most impressive about CRUEL DOUBT is the author’s ability to infuse a well-reported crime story with genuine suspense . . . plenty of shocks and surprises. McGinniss is also adept at evoking the colorful personalities and hothouse environment of the rural South . . . a startlingly intimate profile of the Von Steins and the various miseries that seemed to build toward the Walpurgisnacht of Lieth’s murder.”—Los Angeles Times

  “I have always found McGinniss’s eye and ear to be finely tuned and ever alert. . . . That’s what makes McGinniss so good: He manages to see and hear the things that the rest of the world misses.”—Chicago Tribune

  “With CRUEL DOUBT, McGinniss puts more distance between himself and the rest of the pack. . . . He is a touchstone for the traumatized, the troubled, and the treacherous. . . . McGinniss skillfully creates tension and explores ticklish legal questions with remarkable finesse.”—The Hartford Courant

  “Fascinating . . . CRUEL DOUBT is not only about a crime and a trial and remarkable conflicts of interest. It is also, beneath its surface and within its heart, about Joe McGinniss as quester for truth, literary detective, salver, and healer.”—The New York Times Book Review

  “As CRUEL DOUBT makes poignantly apparent, a writer’s thirst for his subject’s secrets may be matched—and even exceeded—by the subject’s need to confide and confess. . . . Mr. McGinniss’s intimacy with these players . . . does enable him to do what he does best: to evoke the peculiar world in which this crime took place with all the richness of fiction.”—Wall Street Journal

  Books by Joe McGinniss

  Cruel Doubt

  Blind Faith

  Fatal Vision

  Going to Extremes

  Heroes

  The Dream Team

  The Selling of the President

  CRUEL DOUBT

  Joe McGinniss

  A SIGNET BOOK

  SIGNET

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a Pocket Star edition.

  Copyright © Joe McGinniss, 1991

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  For my family with love and gratitude

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Early in 1990, when she wrote to Dr. Jean Spaulding and others, asking them to cooperate fully with me in the preparation of this book, Bonnie Von Stein said she wanted “one person to share everything I know with, good or bad,” I was that person.

  Neither Bonnie nor any member of her family nor anyone else who spoke with me or with my research assistant, Robyn Smith, received any form of financial compensation. Nor did anyone seek or receive the right to not ot review, approve, or in any way exercise control over my use of the information they so generously and candidly shared with me.

  These days, that is a rare circumstance. It arose in large part, I believe, out of their respect for Bonnie’s wishes, and from their admiration and affection for her. If she wanted the truth told, the truth—as they knew it—was what they would tell, even if aspects of it might not be consistent with Bonnie’s point of view.

  Thus, it seems appropriate to thank, first and foremost, Bonnie Von Stein. Because she is the central figure in this book, I’ll not offer any capsule description of her here, but trust that the reader will come to know her in the pages that follow. I shall say only that never once—even when made uncomfortable by some of what came to interest me—did Bonnie pull back from her absolute and unflinching pain. Some are portrayed in this book, some are not, but I am grateful to them all.

  These include Andrew Arnold; Rene Bailey; Karen Barbour; George and Peggy Bates; Polly Bates; Vivian Bates; Elwood Blackmon; Donna Brady; Tom Brereton; Eric Caldwell; Kim Craft; Sylvia Craven; Washington, North Carolina, chief of police John Crone; Janie and Leesa Edwards; Vince Hamrick; Mary Ann Harris; Tiffany Heady; Anne Henderson; Nea
l Henderson; John Hubard; Dr. Page Hudson; Frank Johnston; Will Lang; Keith Mason; Stephanie Mercer; Mitchell Norton; Steven Outlaw; Bill Osteen, Sr. (now the Honorable William Osteen, United States District Judge for the Central District of North Carolina); Bill Osteen, Jr.; Joanne Osteen; Angela Pritchard; Chris Pritchard; Steve Pritchard; Sam and Ramona Ravan and their children, Julie and Joe; Laura Reynaud; Dr. Billy Royal; Wayland Sermons; Linda Sloane; Dave and Sue Smith; Wade Smith; Dr. Jean Spaulding; Lt. John Taylor of the Washington, North Carolina police department; Steve Tripp; Kenyatta Upchurch; Jim Vosburgh; Curtis and Barbara Wagoner; Jonathan Wagoner; Judge Thomas Watts; and Lewis Young.

  (I should point out that Judge Watts, though extending great courtesy both to me and to Robyn Smith, made a special point of not commenting in any way, directly or indirectly, on or off the record, about any matters that came before him in court.)

  Many of those listed above went far beyond the dictates of either professionalism or courtesy and provided invaluable assistance and often great hospitality as well. To them, I have much to repay.

  If there are omissions above, they are inadvertent, and I apologize.

  Among those mentioned, I must single out Bonnie’s two children, Chris and Angela. Again, they are central characters in the story that follows, and readers, I hope, will come to some understanding of them in the context of their experiences. Here, I would like to say only that both squarely addressed even the most personal and probing of questions, and for that I respect them and am grateful.

  I also owe thanks to Teri Andrews, clerk of court in Beaufort County, North Carolina; to Bill Dowdy of the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation and those other officials of the organization who granted Lewis Young permission to share with me the results of his investigation; to officials at the Polk Youth Correctional Institution in Raleigh, and at the state correctional facilities in Goldsboro, Lillington, and Asheville, who readily granted both Robyn Smith and me access for interviews with Chris Pritchard and Neal Henderson.

  Special thanks are due Tammy Hensley, assistant to Dr. Jean Spaulding, who laboriously typed the transcripts of my tape-recorded discussions with Dr. Spaulding.

  And appreciation, too, to Brookie Sterling, Roger Smith, and Jim Klepfer, who combined to introduce my family and me to the pleasures of a very special part of North Carolina—Bald Head Island.

  For technical support during the writing, I thank James Plunkett, Emilia Seibold, and Geoff Chappell of Synectic Systems, East Dover, Vermont. They were always there (and sometimes here) when needed.

  Traditionally authors thank their wives for emotional support, patience, fortitude, understanding, etc. Nancy is certainly due that, but also much more. Having worked professionally as a journalist and editor herself, she contributed in more ways than I can count to whatever quality this book may possess. From inception of the idea through final revision of the manuscript—where her relentless scrutiny and keen editorial perceptions proved especially beneficial—she has been invaluable.

  I am also grateful to my son Matthew, whose ideas regarding structure and form proved helpful indeed.

  But if any one person’s contributions overshadowed those of all others, it is Robyn Smith’s. In the past, I’ve occasionally relied on people for help with research, and I’ve never been disappointed in the result.

  Robyn Smith, however, proved to be far more than what is traditionally thought of as a “research assistant.” A former television journalist currently enrolled in the Graduate School of Journalism at Columbia University, Robyn committed to give me unrestricted access to all information within her control, and to all people who could shed light on any part of this story, even if it illuminated corners disturbing to her. That, I think, is a rare form of courage.

  In addition to Bonnie, I would like to express my deep appreciation to all those who were so generous with their insights, information, and time, even when—as was sometimes the case—they were discussing matters that contributed so much to this book, in so many ways, that in fairness she should almost be deemed a collaborator. Never before have I relied so heavily on someone else’s help; but never before have I had available someone of Robyn Smith’s caliber. She is an extraordinarly gifted and energetic journalist, and it was my great good fortune that the course of her life gave her the freedom, at a crucial time in the life of this project, to do the work I needed done.

  She personally interviewed more than thirty people. In many cases, I’d already spoken to them at length, but even here Robyn obtained new and valuable information. In other instances—as with George and Peggy Bates, Donna Brady, Dr. Page Hudson, Frank Johnston, Keith Mason, Wayland Sermons, and Judge Watts—she did it all herself. In addition, Robyn conducted the sensitive and difficult June 1991 interviews with both Chris and Angela Pritchard, and I cannot imagine how anyone could have done a better job. However this book may be judged, it would have been a lesser work without her involvement.

  To my agent, Mort Janklow, who has made such an enormous contribution to my professional life, goes a special word of thanks. And appreciation also to Bill Haber of the Creative Artists Agency.

  Lastly, for their unwavering faith in, commitment to, and support of, my work, I would like to thank Richard E. Snyder, president of Simon & Schuster, and Michael V. Korda, editor in chief, and also editor of this book.

  Contents

  Praise

  Other Books by Joe McGinniss

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Content

  Epigraph

  Introduction

  Part One

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  Part Two

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  Part Three

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  Part Four

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  Part Five

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  Doubts are more cruel than the worst of truths.

  —Molière

  Le Misanthrope

  Introduction

  In the middle of February 1990, I received a phone call from a lawyer in Raleigh, North Carolina, named Wade Smith. I’d met him in 1979, when he’d served as local counsel for Jeffrey MacDonald, a former Green Beret doctor convicted of murdering his wife and two children, about whom I had written in a book called Fatal Vision. MacDonald had not liked the book, but Wade and I had become friends in the years that followed.

  He was chairman of Tharrington, Smith and Hargrove, a thirty-lawyer firm, which, in the years since I’d first met him, had grown into one of the most respected and prosperous in the South. Wade himself, at fifty-two, had advanced from being one of the most prominent criminal lawyers in North Carolina to being one of the state’s most esteemed citizens. He’d served as chairman of the Democratic Party’s s
tate committee, his name still surfaced occasionally when possible candidates for governor were discussed, and he was about to become national president of the University of North Carolina’s alumni association.

  He said he had a client who’d just been through some difficult experiences, in the midst of which he’d given her a copy of Fatal Vision. Having read it, she had learned that Wade knew me, and she had asked him to contact me.

  Although she’d shunned all publicity and valued her privacy highly, she remained so troubled by so much of what had happened to her that she wondered if I might want to write a book that could explore some of what she’d endured for eighteen months, and that might perhaps examine those aspects of her ordeal that, to her, still posed unanswered questions.

  Another murder was the last thing I wanted, but Wade Smith is a persuasive man. After half an hour on the phone with him, I agreed that I’d fly to Raleigh and at least talk to the woman, whose name was Bonnie Von Stein.

  I met her on Wednesday, February 21. She was forty-six years old, she wore a plain blue dress and thick glasses. Her brown hair, graying at the edges, was limp and straight. She looked frail and weary, and her face was devoid of expression. The very act of talking seemed painful for her. The air in the room where we spoke reeked of misery. She was everything I wanted no part of, yet I was there. And as she started to speak, I knew that one of two things would happen: either I’d start to care, which would be bad; or else I wouldn’t, which might be worse.

  It became clear quickly that she was not a person who simply craved the fifteen minutes of notoriety that attach themselves to anyone willing to titillate the public with his or her grief and complaints of injustice. To the contrary, she seemed almost disturbingly private.

  She wasn’t in it for the money, either. I told her I could not give her any money; that I wasn’t interested in acquiring her “rights.” Almost as if offended by the notion, she said she wouldn’t even consider taking money.

 

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