Picture Perfect: The Jodi Arias Story: A Beautiful Photographer, Her Mormon Lover, and a Brutal Murder

by Hogan, Shanna

* * *

  The next day, things seemed odd at the house on East Queensborough Avenue. It wasn’t anything in particular Enrique Cortez could pinpoint. The place just seemed out of sorts.

  That afternoon—Thursday, June 5—Enrique had arrived home from his job, approached the front door, and tried the handle. It was locked.

  That’s strange, he thought, furrowing his brow. Travis rarely locked the front door.

  Enrique approached the garage and punched in the code on the keyless display. As the door rose, he noticed Travis’s black Prius was parked inside. For a moment, he expected to see his roommate. But when he stepped inside, the house was empty.

  In the living room Enrique noticed the stand-up floor cleaner on the tile. The furniture had been moved; the dining room chairs were resting on the couch. Last Enrique could remember Travis hadn’t finished assembling the machine. It appeared he had been preparing to clean, but hadn’t finished.

  At the base of the steps Enrique discovered the dog fence was up, restricting Napoleon’s access to the upstairs. Normally, the dog roamed the entire house. Enrique stepped over the gate and climbed the steps.

  He passed by Travis’s master bedroom—the double doors were shut. Making his way to his own room on the other side of the loft, Enrique spent the next three hours watching TV and playing a video game. At 6 P.M. his girlfriend, Kim, arrived. They grabbed a couple of bottles of water in the kitchen.

  “What’s Travis’s ring doing out here?” Kim pointed to Travis’s CTR ring and watch, which were lying on the kitchen counter.

  “I don’t know.” Enrique shrugged. “I haven’t seen Travis all day. He doesn’t usually go anywhere without them.”

  Enrique mentioned that Travis had been talking about an upcoming business trip.

  “He’s probably out of town,” he said. “He must have forgotten his ring.”

  In the kitchen, Napoleon’s dog bowl was empty. Kim filled it and the couple left for church. Periodically throughout the week Kim would fill the dog’s bowl with food.

  For the next four days Enrique would split his time between work, his girlfriend, and the house on East Queensborough Avenue. He watched movies in Travis’s loft, ate meals in the kitchen, and showered in the second-floor guest bathroom. Each night he slept in his room, just down the hall from Travis’s master bedroom suite.

  With no sign of Travis, Enrique convinced himself his roommate was out of town.

  The truth was far more sinister. Enrique was living with a dead man.

  * * *

  Curled at the bottom of the shower stall, Travis’s corpse had gone cold, its skin a dull gray hue. In full rigor mortis, the remains had become stiff and rigid. The blood, no longer pumping through the veins, had pooled in the lowest part of the body, bruising the backside.

  The blood spatter slathering the bathroom had darkened. The pools of blood on the floor thickened to a sludge. The walls wept with dark red drips.

  Downstairs in his home office, Travis’s cell phone silently lit up as he missed dozens of calls from friends and business associates—including two from Jodi. After Travis had missed the conference call at 7 P.M., Chris Hughes phoned repeatedly and sent text messages.

  Each message went unreturned.

  * * *

  At 11:00 A.M. on June 5, Jodi arrived at Ryan Burns’s apartment in West Jordan, a suburb of Salt Lake City.

  When Ryan saw Jodi, he complimented her on her new look. The last time he saw her she had been a blonde. Now her hair was dark.

  He also noticed her hands—she had two small bandages on her fingers.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I work at Margaritaville,” she told Ryan. “I broke a glass and cut my fingers.”

  Around noon, Jodi accompanied Ryan to a Prepaid Legal sales appointment a mile from his house. They drove separately, with Jodi following him in her car.

  As she pulled onto the main road, Jodi saw red and blue lights flashing in her rearview mirror. Both she and Ryan pulled their cars to the side of the road.

  The officer approached Jodi’s car. “Do you know your license plate is upside down?”

  “Oh, my friends must be playing a joke on me,” she said with a laugh.

  She provided the officer with her license and registration. Because everything else was in order, the officer let her go with a warning.

  “Make sure to correct that license plate as soon as possible,” he told her.

  Ten minutes later, when Jodi and Ryan arrived at the appointment, Ryan asked about the incident.

  “It’s a funny story,” Jodi said.

  Earlier on her road trip, Jodi said, she’d noticed a couple of kids on skateboards messing with her front license plate. When she caught them, the children dropped the plate and ran off. Jodi picked up the front license and placed it in the backseat. She said she hadn’t noticed the back plate, but the teenage troublemakers must have turned it upside down.

  In the restaurant, Ryan borrowed a screw driver and mounted the license plate correctly. After the appointment, they returned to his apartment to watch a movie. As they cuddled on the couch, they began to kiss.

  “At some point we were talking and we kissed. Eventually, we kissed many times. Every time we started kissing, it got a little more escalated,” Ryan testified. “She was kissing my neck, I was kissing hers.… At one point I had my hands on her thighs.”

  During their tryst they both remained clothed. From what Jodi had told him, Ryan believed she was deeply religious and he was cautious about going too far sexually.

  “I don’t think either one of us said stop; we just stopped,” Ryan recalled. “I didn’t want to go any further. I didn’t want her to regret her trip.”

  At around 7 P.M. Jodi and Ryan attended a Prepaid Legal business briefing. At the event Jodi encountered several people she knew, including her friend Leslie Udy. Leslie asked Jodi how long she was staying.

  “I have to go back tonight,” Jodi said. “I have to get back to work.”

  The business briefing lasted an hour. Afterward, Ryan, Jodi, Leslie, and a few friends from Prepaid Legal went to a nearby Chili’s for dinner. Leslie rode in the car with Jodi.

  During the drive, Jodi spoke about her breakup with Travis. Leslie had been aware of the breakup and had been worried about how Jodi was coping. But speaking with her, Jodi seemed fine.

  “Travis and I will always be friends,” Jodi said. “We joke that one day, in the future, we’ll run into each other at Prepaid Legal events and our children will play together.”

  Jodi added that she had recently moved back to California to create some much needed distance. When she last spoke to Travis a few days earlier, Jodi said, he had actually pressured her to come to Mesa.

  “I told him no,” Jodi said. “I’m trying to create some separation there.”

  Following dinner that night, at around 10:30 P.M., Jodi and Ryan returned to his apartment and took a nap in his bed. They both awoke after an hour.

  “The second we woke up we were kissing. She got on top of me pretty aggressively and we were kissing,” Ryan later said. “She was right on top of me.”

  Ryan reminded her of her plans to leave earlier.

  “Don’t you have to go to work?” he teased.

  “I just want to stay a little bit longer,” Jodi said. “Maybe just a few more minutes?”

  At around 1 A.M. Ryan walked Jodi to her car and kissed her good-bye. Jodi headed back to Yreka.

  * * *

  The alarm rang at 7 A.M. on Friday morning, June 6, rousing Zachary Billings. Groggily, he rolled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  The previous evening, Zachary hadn’t returned home until after midnight. It had been his day off work, and he had spent it with Amanda at the Tempe Marketplace, an outdoor mall. They had lunch, saw a movie, and shopped.

  Today, he was working the early shift at McGrath’s Fish House.

  In the upstairs guest bathroom, Zachary showered and dressed, afte
r which he headed downstairs. As he grasped the banister, he noticed it felt slick. In the living room he saw the furniture in disarray and the floor cleaner in the middle of the tile. He didn’t think much of it, assuming Travis had cleaned.

  Zachary worked until 2 P.M., and then visited his girlfriend at her house. It was Amanda’s mother’s birthday and they celebrated with a homemade meal and cake. After dinner, Zachary brought Amanda to his place, and they watched movies in his room. At midnight he dropped her off at her parents’, returned home, and went to bed.

  The next morning—Saturday, June 7—Zachary’s car wouldn’t start. He knocked on Enrique’s bedroom door.

  “Do you have any jumper cables?” he asked.

  “No. Sorry, man,” Enrique said.

  “Hey, have you seen Travis?”

  “No. I think he’s out of town or something. He hasn’t been here all week.”

  Zachary was expecting mail and asked about the mailbox key. Neither roommate was sure where it was located. Zachary sent Travis a text message, but received no response.

  After borrowing jumper cables from a neighbor, Zachary left the house to run errands. He spent the evening at Amanda’s parents’ house.

  That night Enrique arrived home late. He noticed a glow from the second-story window. He assumed Travis had accidentally left the light on in his bathroom before leaving for his trip.

  * * *

  Upstairs in the house, the master bathroom light gleamed off Travis’s corpse.

  After thirty-six hours of being entombed in the bathroom, the face had turned dark purple, the rest of the body pale and limp—rigor had come and gone.

  Gases had accumulated in the cadaver, causing the abdomen to become bloated and the intestines distended. The pressure of gases forced greenish-black body fluid to seep from the wounds.

  As the bacteria inside the intestines grew, the body’s skin began to slip away from the muscle. Pancreatic enzymes digested the organs.

  A rancid stench emanated from the corpse. For a while it would be contained behind the master bedroom double doors.

  Soon, it would infiltrate the entire house.

  * * *

  At about 1 P.M. on June 7, Jodi returned her white Ford Focus to Budget, six days after she picked it up. When Raphael Colombo Jr. saw the mileage on the car, he expressed surprise. Jodi had put 2,834 miles on the new vehicle. Colombo asked about her apparent change of plans.

  “I decided to take a longer trip,” Jodi said.

  Inspecting the car, Colombo noticed the floor mats were missing. On the front and back seats were red stains that looked like Kool-Aid or juice. Using some cleaner, he dabbed the seats with a damp cloth until they were wiped clean.

  Jodi left Redding and went back to her grandparents’ house. That evening she worked her shift at Casa Ramos.

  At 4:58 P.M. she sent Travis a text message about a $200 BMW payment. “Hey, I need to know when you’re going to deposit that check.”

  At 10:21 P.M. that night, Jodi sent Travis an e-mail.

  Hey You …

  I haven’t heard back from you. I hope you’re not still upset that I didn’t come to see you. I just didn’t have enough time off. It’s okay, sweetie, you’re going to be here in less than two weeks—we’re going to see the sights, check things off “the list,” and all kinds of fun things. Oregon is beautiful this time of year.

  Jodi went on to discuss a possible visit to Mesa. She wanted to stay at Travis’s house while he was gone, if her budget allowed.

  I know you’ll be in Cancun, but I’ll probably crash at your house in your cozy bed anyway.… I know you said the door is always open, but I wanted to give you a heads up. If for any reason that won’t work, let me know and I’ll make other arrangements. Your house has always been my second home.

  Jodi ended the e-mail telling Travis to get ahold of her before he left for Mexico.

  * * *

  That Sunday, Travis missed church—something he never did when he was in town. At 9 A.M. both Zachary and Enrique attended services, commenting on their roommate’s absence.

  “You haven’t heard from Travis, have you?” Zachary asked. “He never responded to my text.”

  By then, both Enrique and Zachary were convinced he was out of town. They knew about his upcoming trip to Mexico; it wasn’t uncommon for him to leave without telling them. Neither Enrique nor Zachary was concerned that something could have happened to Travis.

  That afternoon, Zachary sent Travis another text about the mailbox key but received no response.

  When Mimi Hall didn’t see Travis at church, she was filled with a sinking sense of dread. All week she had called, e-mailed, and sent text messages. Each message went unanswered.

  At first she was irritated. She thought he might be angry about the breakup or trying to prove a point. Eventually, she convinced herself that he must just be busy. He would call soon, she reasoned. By the weekend, her frustration had turned to worry.

  Meanwhile, in Cancún, Chris and Sky Hughes had begun to panic. For days Chris had been calling. They had found an LDS Tour of Chichen Itza and Tulum, as well as an opportunity to swim with whale sharks. They wanted to know if Travis wanted to join them on the tour.

  Chris left a voice mail and sent several text messages but received no response. Chris called again, only now Travis’s voice mail was full. His stomach sank. Hanging up his cell phone, Chris turned to his wife. “Something’s wrong.”

  * * *

  By Monday a foul odor had consumed the house on East Queensborough Avenue. Enrique was the first to notice. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before—a noxious scent, tinged with sickly sweetness.

  What is that? he wondered.

  Enrique didn’t see Zachary that morning and didn’t have a chance to mention the smell. Later, it would seem strange that no one had noticed it earlier.

  Both Enrique and Zachary worked that day. After dinner Zachary picked up Amanda and they returned to Travis’s house. Zachary brought Amanda upstairs and they stayed closed off in his room watching the 2002 romantic comedy Sweet Home Alabama.

  At 9:30 P.M. Enrique arrived home from a church activity. He showered in the guest bathroom, got dressed, and went to his room.

  An hour later the doorbell rang.

  * * *

  Outside the house on East Queensborough Avenue, Mimi peered through the glass cutouts in the front door. Inside she could see the dog in the foyer. She rang the doorbell again. No answer.

  Earlier that night Mimi went to Family Home Evening, expecting to see Travis. When he wasn’t there, she tried to call him—no answer. Their flight was in less than twelve hours and she still had not heard from Travis in a week.

  Finally, at 10 P.M., she drove to his house. When no one came to the door after her repeated rings she got back into her car and returned home.

  “I tried calling and texting him. He didn’t respond,” Mimi later recalled. “At home I sent him a Facebook message because I was getting scared.”

  A few minutes later, she scrolled through her cell phone, searching for numbers of mutual friends that may have heard from Travis. She called Michelle Lowery.

  When Michelle heard the concern in Mimi’s voice, she knew something was wrong. Michelle was with her boyfriend Dallin Forrest. They had just returned to Dallin’s house following an errand.

  Michelle told Mimi that she would call Taylor Searle.

  After work Taylor had decided to go for a bike ride. He had ridden to a friend’s apartment where he spent a few hours and had just left when he got the call.

  “Have you heard from Travis lately?” Michelle asked.

  Taylor thought about it. He hadn’t actually seen Travis since they went out for sushi a week prior. Normally they talked and exchanged texts or online chats every other day. When he didn’t hear from Travis, he assumed he was in Cancún.

  “I thought he was out of town,” he said.

  Michelle explained that his trip with Mimi was the next
day.

  “I’m concerned,” Michelle said. “Do you think we should go over there?”

  Michelle turned to her boyfriend. “Do you mind if we drive over to Travis’s and see what’s going on?”

  A few moments later Dallin and Michelle were parked outside the house on East Queensborough Avenue, waiting for Mimi to arrive.

  From his car, Dallin noticed a single light shinning from the second-story window. It was the only light on in the entire house.

  CHAPTER 20

  “Oh my God,” Mimi Hall cried as she dialed 911 on her cell phone.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” the operator asked.

  “A friend of ours is dead in his bedroom,” Mimi said, her voice shaking. “We haven’t heard from him in a while. We think he’s dead. His roommate just went in there and said there’s a lot of blood.”

  After stumbling away from the grisly scene, Dallin Forrest had whisked Mimi and Michelle down the stairs and out the front door. Travis’s dog had followed. Michelle hunched in the driveway, holding the pug’s collar, while Mimi phoned for emergency assistance on her cell phone.

  On the front lawn, Dallin observed Zachary standing close to his girlfriend. After fleeing Travis’s room, Zachary had retrieved Amanda from his bedroom and exited the house. Zachary appeared somber and shaken—an expression Dallin imagined mirrored his own.

  Dallin approached Zachary. “Is everybody out of the house?”

  It was then that Zachary realized Enrique was likely still inside.

  “Stay here,” he told Amanda. He went back inside the house, up the stairs, and toward his roommate’s bedroom. Zachary pounded on the door.

  “Something happened to Travis,” he said. “The police are on their way.”

  Meanwhile, Mimi had passed her cell phone to Dallin. The 911 operator had dispatched police and paramedics, but requested to speak with someone who had seen the body.

  “What’s going on?” the operator asked.

  “He’s dead. He’s in his bedroom, in the shower,” Dallin blurted out.

  His mind reeling, Dallin tried to compose himself.

  “I freaked out on the inside but I tried to steady myself, you know, cause you’re trying to talk on the phone with 911,” Dallin later recalled. “I didn’t want the girls to go nuts.”