A Poisoned Passion

by Diane Fanning

  Judy and Lloyd were proud just the same. They purchased an ad in the annual yearbook addressed to “Wendi, Our Baby Girl.” It read:

  You have built a very strong foundation and nothing can stop you. Just know and remember we love you very much and we could never be more proud of you than we are right now.

  From high school, Wendi went to college in town at Angelo State University in the fall of 1996. She continued to live at home. During the summers, she worked at North Concho Veterinary Clinic. She had a steady boyfriend, Shay Kelton, the grandson of San Angelo’s venerable legend, western writer Elmer Kelton.

  Her brother Marshall also had a summer job. He worked for a veterinarian, Dr. Terrell Sheen, but not at the animal clinic. In addition to his practice, Sheen had a highly successful business as one of the leading landlords in town. Marshall did maintenance jobs on his rental properties and ranch work—fencing, setting up deer feeders, gathering cows and goats—on Sheen’s 7777 Ranch in Grape Creek and on his other property in Mertzon.

  Marshall missed having his sister with him at Water Valley High School, but he made his own academic mark. He was one of the charter members of his high school’s National Forensic League, an educational honor society for students with law enforcement aspirations, founded by Bruno Jacob in 1925.

  For all of Wendi’s life, she’d lived in the same house with a father who worked at the same factory. The only change in her family structure was the addition of her brother when she was too young to remember being an only child. In 1998, all of that changed.

  FIVE

  At the beginning of 1998, Lloyd learned that he was about to lose his job. Levi Strauss, in a cost-cutting measure, was closing eleven of its plants in the United States—including the one in San Angelo—and moving the operations to the Caribbean and Mexico. After more than twenty years of being a company man, he was unemployed.

  Marshall introduced his dad to Terrell Sheen. Following his advice, Lloyd went into business as a self-employed contractor. He worked almost exclusively for Sheen.

  In May of 1998, Marshall graduated from Water Valley High. Beneath his yearbook photo, he wrote:

  My fondest memory is being attacked at Primarily Primates by a Black Leopard.

  His parents purchased an ad in the yearbook to celebrate his graduation just as they had for Wendi two years earlier. It read:

  Our bouncing baby boy. How the years have flown. As a tiny baby, you were always hard to hold back when you saw something you wanted. Look at you now, pointed in the right direction, a strong mind and body. You’re unbeatable. Hold on to your dreams and you will succeed because you’re a winner. Just know and remember we love you very much and could never be more proud of you than we are right now. No matter where you go or what you do, remember you’ll always be in our hearts.

  Love,

  Dad, Mom & Wendi.

  Marshall did not plan to move away from home in the fall—he had a full scholarship to Angelo State University. He would not, however, join Wendi there. His sister had accomplished something that not many were able to do: She completed all of her prerequisite courses and was accepted into the only College of Veterinary Medicine in the state, at Texas A&M, after just two years of undergraduate studies. Only 20 percent of veterinary students enter the school on that fast track. Wendi was moving to College Station, heading east to a different physical environment, a more challenging academic situation and a whole new world at Texas A&M.

  At more than 30,000 students, the population of the university was larger than the surrounding town. It sat on a huge expanse of rolling acres—a trip from a class on the east side to another on the west side was so far to travel that students without cars resorted to bicycles to get across campus on time.

  The social fabric was enriched by a wealth of tradition. Originally an all-male school, A&M had been co-ed for decades, but many of the Corps ideals remained an integral part of the experience. Football was king, and the legend of the twelfth man ruled every game—all the students stood throughout all four quarters, indicating their symbolic willingness to step on to the field and help the team.

  The annual bonfire before the gridiron contest with the University of Texas was the stuff of legend. For weeks, students, wearing decorated hardhats called “pots,” headed to the cut site to chop down trees that were hauled to the construction site. There, they stacked a pyramid of logs that reached to the sky with an outhouse in UT’s burnt orange and white colors perched on top before the fire was lit. Wendi was a student the year the tradition came to a tragic end. On November 18, 1999, a nearly completed stack collapsed, killing twelve students. A pall spread across the campus as universal grief consumed the entire student body.

  Wendi plowed into her course work with the same enthusiastic determination she’d demonstrated in high school. The demands of the curriculum were high—some say veterinary school is more difficult than medical school because of the need to learn about multiple species.

  First-year studies—forty hours over two semesters—included gross and microscopic anatomy, microbiology, physiology and clinic work. The veterinary school at Texas A&M was the only one in the country to offer hands-on training for the first-year student. At this level, it was all elementary animal care, working with the colony of teaching animals at the school, becoming comfortable handling their patients, checking vital signs and drawing blood.

  All the while, Wendi was immersed in a field of study with a whole new vocabulary so extensive that it took most students two years to master it all. In the summers, she worked as an assistant at Terrell Sheen’s veterinary clinic in San Angelo.

  Wendi delved into parasitology, pathology, pharmacology, toxicology, surgery and anesthesia classes—another forty hours or more with the addition of electives—in her second year. The last year of classroom studies focused on small and large animal medicine and surgery. For the first time, Wendi got experience in the operating room.

  The fourth year of veterinary medicine took Wendi out of the classroom and into thirty weeks of basic care rotations and twelve weeks of clinic rotations that allow students to determine and hone in on their career path whether with small or large animals, a mixed practice or non-clinical work. During this part of her studies, Wendi put in a lot of time at the campus veterinary hospital under the direct supervision of a faculty member.

  She worked hard at her course of studies, but did take some time to socialize. She became pregnant and had an abortion. Then she began a sexual relationship with Jason Burdine, another student at A&M. Wendi soon moved on to a boy named Chase. Although they were intimate, she never learned his last name. After Chase, she started up with her next sexual partner, Ryan Reitz.

  Ryan and Wendi lived in the same trailer park. When she’d received a piece of his mail in error, she called. The relationship started from that happenstance. When Ryan attempted to end it, Wendi played the pregnancy card again.

  At first, Ryan did not believe her. He thought he was infertile. He accompanied Wendi to the doctor and received confirmation that she was with child. Judy and Lloyd met with Ryan’s parents to discuss the repercussions of the situation and to make plans for the future.

  The Reitz family was in agreement. Ryan would support the child, but he would not marry Wendi. Judy was furious. “If he’s not going to do the right thing, then we want nothing to do with him,” she snapped as she stormed out of the room.

  Counting up the days, Wendi realized that Ryan wasn’t the only paternal suspect. She had no idea of how to contact Chase, but she knew where to find Jason Burdine. She told him that he was the father.

  Initially, Jason wanted nothing to do with Wendi or the child. He thought about it for a while, though, and had a change of attitude. “You’ll never get to see the baby,” he threatened Wendi. He vowed to take the infant away as soon as it was born.

  In this hostile environment, Wendi carried her second pregnancy to term, while performing the required rotations to earn her veterinary degree. Her
son, Tristan, was born on October 29, 2001. Judy moved to College Station to care for the infant while Wendi finished school.

  DNA samples went to a lab. Ryan Reitz was eliminated as the possible father. Wendi called and let him know. For some bizarre reason, she jotted a note to him suggesting that he should come up and see the baby. Ryan passed up the invitation without comment.

  The DNA evidence should have made the paternity clear. Not everyone, however, seemed to receive the same results. Jason Burdine insisted that he’d read a DNA report that eliminated him as the possible father. Years later, Judy Davidson said, in sworn testimony, that Jason was the father. In the same series of depositions, Wendi swore that she did not know the paternity of Tristan.

  Nonetheless, Jason visited Wendi soon after Tristan’s birth and then again right before Wendi left College Station after her graduation from veterinary school on May 10, 2002. Jason did not maintain contact with Wendi after her move.

  As Wendi’s brother Marshall said, “She always seemed to find the wrong guy.”

  SIX

  After graduation, Wendi and Tristan moved to Abilene. Although she was still ninety miles away from San Angelo, she was now close to home by West Texas standards. That same spring, Marshall graduated from Angelo State University with a major in Animal Science and a minor in Range and Wildlife Management. It was his turn to move far from home. He accepted a park ranger position at Lake Corpus Christi State Park and moved to Mathis, 320 miles away.

  Wendi got a job as a veterinarian at Abilene Animal Hospital. In October of that year, Dr. Larry Ellis purchased the clinic and kept all of the existing employees. He owned extensive real estate holdings in the area and offered his veterinarians a place to live in one of his properties in addition to their salaries. Wendi accepted this perk and moved into an Ellis-owned house with her son.

  About a week after she started working there, Ryan Goode, a clinic employee and the teenage son of another veterinarian who worked for Ellis, came by Wendi’s apartment to drop off a pager. She invited him inside to watch a movie. Before the night was over, they were in bed. Within a week, Wendi was discussing a long-term relationship. “I just graduated from high school and I’m going to Texas Tech in the fall,” he objected.

  “I can move to Lubbock with you,” Wendi offered.

  At that point, Ryan was blunt, “I am not interested in a long-term relationship.” Wendi was in tears. Ryan was stunned by the depth of her attachment to him. He realized he was in too deep. Two weeks after it started, the personal relationship was over.

  She dated the brother of a co-worker for a few weeks. When she told him she was pregnant, he disappeared. She claimed later that she’d had a miscarriage.

  Wendi transferred her affections to a sick schnauzer. He needed regular medication that the pet owner could not afford. Wendi was supposed to euthanize the animal. Instead, she spirited him out of the clinic and into her home.

  Any time an animal was scheduled for euthanasia, Wendi ranted, raved and argued against the decision. One staff member described her behavior as a temper tantrum. She preached against the practice to all who would listen, claiming that the only unconditional love possible on this earth came from the animals in our lives. Children were the next best thing, she said, but they always grew up.

  It was one of many issues she had with Dr. Ellis. Whenever he tried to tell her how to do a procedure or instruct her on correcting a mistake, she appeared to be paying attention—and then disregarded what he’d said. Although Ellis had thirty years of experience and Wendi was fresh from veterinary school, she gave the impression that she regarded herself as the expert.

  Her next sexual relationship lasted longer than the last two. Jeremy Gonzales moved into her place. They were together for nine months and Wendi claimed they were in love. All was well until Jeremy lost his job. According to Wendi, that’s when he started using drugs and fell into a deep depression. The final straw came when he beat on her dog. She tossed him out of the house. Some questioned her version of events, blaming the end of the relationship on pressure from her parents. They were very displeased that their daughter would get involved with a Hispanic male.

  One night after work, she was watching television when there was a knock on her back door. She grabbed her gun and chambered a bullet. Now, the knocking was in the front of the house. Jeremy kicked that door open. He got in her face and yelled at her, but she could not bring herself to pull the trigger. He took the gun away.

  Holding it to his head, he swore he was going to kill himself. She coaxed the gun out of his hand and he ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. He continued to threaten to kill himself while Wendi pleaded with him.

  The disturbance was loud enough that it attracted the attention of an off-duty police officer who lived across the street. He talked Jeremy into leaving. After the officer went back across the street, taking the gun out of the house when he left, Jeremy returned, raging again. Wendi called 9-1-1 and a uniformed officer talked to him outside, warning him to leave and never return.

  A co-worker introduced Wendi to Joel Bird, from Robert Lee, a small town in between San Angelo and Abilene. Wendi got pregnant again. Her parents met with Joel’s mother to make wedding plans. Judy was half-hearted about the marriage. She didn’t think Joel was good enough for her daughter. She said that Joel was lazy and didn’t help out Wendi at all.

  Soon, with Judy’s encouragement, the wedding was off. Judy claimed that Wendi had broken up with Joel because he was using drugs.

  Judy was picking up Tristan for a visit in San Angelo when Joel stopped by the house. According to Judy, he was very upset, crying and begging Wendi to resume the relationship.

  According to Wendi’s brother Marshall, though, his sister was the one who was distressed about the end of the romance. She could barely talk when she told him about the break-up because she was crying so hard.

  “What’s the matter, Wendi?” he asked.

  “I think I loved him,” Wendi sobbed.

  Wendi terminated that pregnancy and found a Chihuahua to love. After his broken leg would not heal, Dr. Ellis ordered Wendi to euthanize the dog. She told Mandy Ellis, the business manager, that she’d put the dog to sleep; in reality, she’d taken it home.

  She kept him in her bathtub because of the pus oozing from his leg. Wendi eventually conquered the dog’s infection and gave him to Candy Branch. Candy made an appointment with Dr. Ellis and brought him into the clinic, where he amputated the leg. The Chihuahua went home with his new owner and thrived.

  Then one night near Thanksgiving 2003, Wendi went out to a bar and picked up an Air Force staff sergeant at Dyess Air Force Base. Michael Severance was a long way from home. After joining the Air Force, he’d left the woods of Maine when he was stationed in dusty West Texas. Although he had fallen into the rural rhythm of the area with alacrity, after meeting Wendi, his life would never be the same.

  SEVEN

  Maine native Leslie Severance joined the United States Air Force in 1976 and was stationed at Loring Air Force Base in Limestone, Maine. Located in the far northern part of the state, Loring was the easternmost base in the continental United States.

  As a mega base, Loring had the best geostrategic location of the three Strategic Air Command centers in the northeast, along with the largest capacity for weapon and fuel storage in all the command. Built in the 1950s when the military focused on cold war readiness, Loring was designed to accommodate one hundred B-36 bombers.

  Leslie worked as a jet engine mechanic. He was on leave near Christmas in 1976, when he made a trip down south to his aunt’s home in Danforth, Maine. His cousin introduced him to Valerie Smith. Valerie was a New Jersey native, but her parents had moved up to Maine five years earlier. Leslie and Valerie got married in 1978.

  Valerie was pregnant with their first child when Leslie decided to leave the Air Force in 1980. They knew if they moved to a big city, Leslie’s training and experience as a jet engine mechanic would guarantee a j
ob with high pay. But Valerie and Leslie were not interested in urban life. They made a conscious decision to settle in a place where it would be good to raise kids. Their first home was in Winn, on the banks of the Penobscot River—population 400.

  The nearest city of any size was Bangor, proud home of a thirty-one-foot-tall statue of Paul Bunyan. Winn was north of that city—about an hour away—in the middle of the Maine Highlands, an outdoorsman’s paradise. Springtime through summer, the mountains filled with bicycle riders, the rivers and lakes with kayaks, and bibbed tourists scoffed down lobster everywhere. In the fall, crisp autumn air heralded a vibrant display of reds, golds and yellows through the woods and over the mountain passes. In winter, cross-country skis, snowmobiles and snowshoes were the normal mode of transport.

  Leslie was in Winn on terminal leave—he’d spend the last days of his Air Force commitment at home—when his son Michael was born on July 20, 1980. Their second son, Frank, was born in December 1982.

  His oldest son soon earned the nickname of Bicycle Mike. Mike, Leslie said, had been fascinated with speed from a very early age. No matter how cold it was, he had to be outside and he had to be moving. If it was too cold to ride, he’d hold on to his bike and walk it in circles in the driveway. He dreamed of turning 6 so he’d be old enough to compete in the bike race on Children’s Day at the Springfield Fair, about eight miles away.

  Mike was riding his bike without training wheels when he was 4 years old. He raced when he was 6 and came in in third place at the 136th annual Springfield Fair.

  In other ways, he did not live up to the old adage “Boys will be boys.” He was stubbornly resistant to being cajoled into mischief by his brother or his friends.