I am requesting to either be moved into population or a TV be placed in here immediately.
I am not a trouble-maker and feel bad that I am having to write this but in my experience here, if you let people run over you, they will. This is silly to be here—we have no incentive to be nice—what can be done? TV privileges taken away and locked down? Please! Please help me in this matter.
On Tuesday, Wendi wrote a letter to both her parents and her brother.
I finally got paper and envelopes so I can write y’all. I am being careful what I say, knowing they may read my mail and know 100% that they will read incoming mail b/c they open it and do not let us have envelopes or stickers. I am very sorry for all this mess. I am trying to be patient, but sometimes all I can see is 4 concrete walls+ floor + ceiling. I don’t even know if it is day or night, cold or hot, sunny or rainy. I know y’all are probably doing all y’all can for me + the kids but I can’t see it or hear it—all I can do is have faith + believe it.
I know Daddy is saying I’m in a lot of trouble, that I didn’t just run a stop sign, but I honestly do not feel like I did that horrible of a thing. But maybe that is because I can understand what my state of mind was and my reasons. I guess I understand me. I love Mike, still to this day and if he could speak, I know he would not be mad or angry at me—he would understand.
She wrote about different tax statements that needed to be prepared or paid, asked them to cancel her gym membership at the Community Health Club. The final item on her to-do list:
7. Please try to find out what kind + where Mike’s services are—I know I probably can’t go but it is eating me up not to know where my husband is, what is happening to him or where he is going. Y’all may have to have the attorney to call and ask.
She ended the letter with:
Kiss both of my kids for me and tell them I love them and will be home as soon as the good Lord allows me.
I love y’all forever + always,
Wendi
She also enclosed a separate letter to Tristan. In the background, she’d drawn an outline of her hand. The letter read:
Tristan,
I love you very very much with all my heart. I am sorry I can’t be there right now but I will soon. Please take care of Baby Shane for me—kiss him on the head and hum to him for me. I miss you very much. Eat a lot so you will be strong. Take care of Deedee+ Pa + Marshall. Tristan, remember how you say your prayers. You can pray for Mommie to come home soon. Just put your hands together close your eyes + say—dear God—please let mommie come home soon. I think that would help a lot—try to pray every night—for everybody. Please draw me a picture especially of yours and Shane’s hands.
Love you lots,
Mommie.
She also composed letters to Nannie and Emmett Eggemeyer and to her cousin Pete Walker. To Pete, she wrote:
They still have me in a lockdown cell but today I moved to a worse place. I was in the block with all the crazy people that want to kill themselves, but they had a girl they needed to move because she keeps banging her head on the wall + trying to get in fights with everyone. So they moved her to a very strict lock down tank and decided I would be in the same tank next to her. They expect me to babysit her + keep her from hurting herself. So I wrote a grievance today stating that my inmate privileges were being unfairly denied b/c I am not in trouble, but the whole time, have been in lockdown + that I would not babysit that girl without a salary + I didn’t care if she beat her head bloody that I would not stop her or call for help.
On Tuesday, she wrote to her family again:
About the insurance—I thought that [the attorney] was making sure of our benefits before we released Mike’s body. I was thinking the benefits may include life insurance policy in my name, social security for Shane until he was 18, social security for me until/if I remarry, TRICOR insurance for Shane + possibly me. Poor Tristan—I guess he doesn’t get squat. Not Really! You know that boy will always have as much or more than Shane.
I have learned many lessons in here.
1. Don’t be so angry + temperamental—life is short and things could always be worse.
2. Try to be patient
3. Don’t take anything for granite [sic] —not y’all’s help, not my kids, not even a mountain dew.
4. Think before I act. Think, think, think or call mom, dad.
5. Trust Mom, Dad + Marshall with anything + everything
6. Cages are cruel
7. If a dog wants kibbles + bits, feed him kibbles + bits
I’m sure there are many others, but these are the most important.
She enclosed the lyrics of a song for her family to the tune of Ponchielli’s “Dance of the Hours”—better known as Allan Sherman’s “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah.” She wrote kind words to everyone but Marshall:
Hello Marshall . . . My dear brother
You are such . . . a butthole
Even more so . . . Than most others
But I love you . . . And forgive you
Just try to think . . . Before you speak.
Just as you have . . . Told me to do.
She also drafted a letter to her clients to inform them of the situation and announce the re-opening of her clinic, and to apologize for the inconvenience.
On March 7, we were forced to close the clinic due to some slight legal issues I found myself in. It has been highly publicized by the press that Advanced Animal Care had closed and that I, Dr. Wendi Davidson, was in legal trouble. While this information is true, there were many lies told and blatant slander as well. At present, I am not at liberty to discuss details but I urge you not to believe everything the news media releases.
In her next letter home, Wendi complained about not being able to get through to their phone for two hours because the line had been busy.
I am considering to just quit calling because there is never any news, y’all get mad at me and I cry + cry and feel even worse than before I called. I always want to talk to Tristan + see how y’all are doing, but I don’t seem to have the time. It always turns into “We don’t know anything and you are the one that did this to yourself—not us.” I know I am really upset right now but I’m so tired of all this crap and all these crazy people.
She told her parents to sell everything she owned to get her out on bond.
I will live in a halfway house w/the kids or on the streets—I don’t care anymore—anything is better than this—as long as I have my kids, I will do anything the police want—trials—courts. In a few days I will lower myself to false testimony if they will let me out.
She enclosed a note to Tristan:
I cry all the time. Do you still love me or would you rather have a new mommy by now? I hope not. Baby, I am trying so hard to come to you soon but there are a lot of very bad, mean people in the world + they don’t like me. They won’t let me come home to you yet.
On Wednesday, Wendi received the official written response to her grievance signed by Sergeant Bryan Miears:
You were placed on suicide watch per the arresting officer and while on suicide watch you are not permitted to have anything with you in your cell block. I talked to the Sgt. on day shift and is going to look into you not being able to brush your teeth while you were on suicide watch. If there is a problem with your food, then you need to notify a guard at that time. You will remain in lockdown until further notice. We are not required to provide a TV in every cell.
Wendi was not pleased with that response. She expected special treatment even though she was charged with murder.
THIRTY-FOUR
Governor Baldacci directed that the flags of the United States and the state of Maine be flown at half-staff in the towns of Lee, Lincoln and Carroll Plantation from sunrise to sunset on the day of Mike’s funeral. At 1 P.M. on Thursday, more than 200 people showed up for the memorial service at Clay Funeral Home in Lincoln. The governor was among their number, as were several fellow airmen from Texas.
Mike’s brother Frank was
the only one to step before the audience and mention the murder, and he only touched on it. “We do not know and may never learn why Michael died, but God does not give us anything we can’t handle. It seems really hard right now, but if we remember Mike for the joyous stories we can tell, we can get through this.” He shared some of his happy memories of his brother and wrapped up his comments with a message of hope. “The last thing I would want to say is that no matter what we’re going through right now, we know that Mike is in a better place, and that we will see him again.”
Governor Baldacci presented Leslie with a state flag that had flown at half-mast over the Maine capitol building in Mike’s honor. He said, “Michael is part of a long line of Maine soldiers who served their country well in times of strife—including Army Master Sergeant and Medal of Honor winner Gary Gordon of Lincoln, and stretching back to Civil War hero Colonel Joshua Chamberlain. It’s important to let the Severance family know that we’re there for them.”
Major William Walker, Mike’s commanding officer with the 317th Aircraft Maintenance Squadron, presented Leslie with Michael’s posthumous Commendation Medal for meritorious service. “When we needed a flying crew chief to go on a mission, he was always ready to step up and take care of business.”
The Reverend Mark W. York recalled the close and gentle but teasing relationship between the grieving father and the deceased son. He talked about the times that Leslie had been quietly concerned but outwardly supportive of Mike’s more adventurous pursuits.
After the service, the funeral procession traveled out to Stevens Cemetery in Carroll Plantation where Michael was laid to rest with full military honors.
Mike’s stepsister lingered long at the grave. Her mother Brinda had to urge her to leave. Nicole returned twice every week, standing vigil over the man she’d admired and the stepbrother she’d adored. Her tear-filled, faithful devotion stood in sharp contrast to the cold attitude of the new widow sitting behind bars in Texas.
THIRTY-FIVE
In a letter written to her parents on the day of Michael’s funeral, Wendi relayed information she’d received from her visit with one of her attorneys.
She said they didn’t even have a cause of death and they were fixing to bury Mike. And she said they wanted to have it open casket to show off his uniform but not show his face. My God, these people are truly insane and insensitive. He is in no condition, I am sure, to be displayed like some trophy for the damn military. He hated the military and they act like he was part of their family. I only hope Mike forgives me for this because if I could be out + handle this myself, they would not lay a freaking finger on him + let him be buried in peace without all this cruelty.
She whined out a mournful litany, depicting herself as a helpless victim of fate and circumstance:
Does destruction occur every place I go? And yes, maybe I did this to myself but in my mind I had reasons + y’all were a big part of those reasons. So for once, believe that I would do almost anything to help y’all + second I wish y’all had never made me think like that. I am sorry I am being vague but I have to be right now.
She placed a telephone call to her grandmother, Jessie Mae Eggemeyer. Jessie Mae’s condition had deteriorated so much that she wasn’t able to have a conversation with her granddaughter. In a matter of days, she was moved to Meadow Creek Nursing Center. The family was told that she had less than two weeks to live.
On March 27, Easter Sunday, chaos erupted in Wendi’s unit of the Tom Green County Jail. Veronica, the woman next to Wendi, was cleaning her cell. She grew angry when she believed the guard had brought her a dirty mop. She screamed and pushed the emergency button. Rushing out of her cell with a broom, she banged it against walls and doors as she yelled. She ranted and raved until the broom broke in two. She stuffed one end into a trash can and hid the other half. She went into Wendi’s cell and threatened her, “You better not say anything.”
Thirty minutes after her tirade began, the guards arrived, put everyone in their cells and locked down the unit. The prisoners were stuck in their cells with no access to a shower.
Wendi thought that one broken end of the broom had been stashed in her cell, and was worried that Veronica might stab her with it. She slipped a note to a guard. A team returned, removing both Wendi and Veronica from their cells while they searched both of their living areas without finding anything.
After they left, Veronica told Wendi that she had hidden the broom in the shower just outside of Wendi’s cell. Wendi reached through the bars and pulled back the curtain. When she saw the broken broom, she contacted a guard again.
That night, she wrote to her step-grandfather, Emmett Eggemeyer:
I still want Mike and I need him but I know I can never touch him again. He really did treat me good, despite what mom may say. He loved both the boys + they both loved and adored him.
The next day, Judy wrote to her daughter to warn her about the dangers of a loose tongue:
“She [the attorney] said you were the Big Cheese in jail + everyone wanted to be your friend so you would tell them something to make it easier for them. Please don’t say anything to anyone.
Wendi responded to her mother’s letter with venom:
I’ve been thinking about all the crap that has occurred to me in the past few years + inevitably to y’all. I guess it makes a person stronger but I don’t want to be any stronger—I’m a girl + I feel I am strong enough. It makes you tougher but I don’t want to be. Nobody likes steaks tough do they? It makes you meaner, more bitter—I don’t want to be—nobody likes hateful people. I just want to be me—caring, sweet, compassionate—do you think I will ever be able to be that way again?
. . . I CANNOT STAY HERE MUCH LONGER! I am fixing to be in real lockdown b/c I’m fixing to start being very mean + ugly + throwing things. I WILL NOT BE NICE IF I AM NOT TREATED THE SAME WAY! I am sorry for being this way, but I am very very very frustrated. Check on the life insurance money—surely $100,000 can do something about this crap.
. . . My back and knees ache constantly because of the metal bed. We have a mat about ½ inch thick, but it doesn’t help too much.
She wrote of her worries for Shane:
If someone snatched him + they crossed state lines we would have a real hard time finding him + getting him back. I don’t want to worry y’all but it’s just a nasty feeling I have. And you know desperate people do desperate things. (Mike’s Dad)
She wrote a separate letter to her brother that same day:
It seems that no matter what I hurt everyone around me+ bring sorrow + grief. And all I try to do is be nice and loving. It is like I am a hurricane and destroy all in my path. I don’t know if you remember watching Legends of the Fall but if you do then you will understand the character Tristan. Tristan means bold in Welch and sad in French. I am like that character. So I gave my first son that name in honor of who I am.
I cannot never promise to never break anymore hearts or never to cause grief but I will certainly try not to and take y’all’s advice to heart. Please know that although you at first frustrated me, I know you did the right thing for everyone. I am so sorry I drug you into this mess. I am so thankful + blessed to have a family so supportive and caring as y’all. Most inmates don’t even have any visitors on visitation day, but y’all always come twice. Thank you for everything and know I would do the same for you.
Two days later, Wendi mailed two letters dripping with self-pity. To Tristan, she wrote:
I was so glad to see you two days ago. I am here at this workplace and they won’t let me go home yet because they are not nice people. I am trying to be nice because I am a nice person, but they are all making me very mad + sad because all I want is to be with you + Shane they won’t let me. I will keep praying to God for everything to be OK, you keeping praying, too. OK, Tiger?
The theme continued in her letter to her parents:
Daddy, I am sorry that I am interfering w/your work schedule by you having to come up here on Mondays, but I r
eally really appreciate it—I hope you don’t have to much longer.
She suggested that her mom put a note on the clinic door saying that they will be reopening soon and if they need a refill on medication, heartworm or flea or tick products, to put Judy’s number up so that she could meet people at the clinic once or twice a week.
I kind of wish the attorneys would not come by unless they actually have news to report. Because although I enjoy the chitchat, Saturday when Brad came, I got strip-searched by one of the Lesbian whore guards. I had to take all of my clothes off including panties in a little room by myself. She said, she didn’t know, but he could have slipped me something through the crack in the window. So tell Tom + Brad this: “If that bitch makes me take off my clothes again so she can see my naked body, they will probably have to be defending me for more charges.”
A Poisoned Passion Page 15