Abandoned Prayers: An Incredible True Story of Murder, Obsession, And

by Gregg Olsen

  Inside the courthouse, Stutzman, in jeans and flannel shirt, sat facing the spectators and attorneys; his face was ashen and his eyes rarely met the gaze of others. He looked the part of a spectator—a farmer or a mechanic or anyone else from the community. Word had sifted through the courtroom: Eli Stutzman was going to plead guilty and, more important, he was going to tell his story.

  The legal rigmarole went quickly. County Attorney Werner acknowledged that he and Bill Gallup had agreed Stutzman would plead guilty to the misdemeanors. Though there had been no plea bargain, Werner indicated that the state had agreed to dismiss without prejudice the child-abuse charge. As a part of the agreement, Stutzman would take the stand.

  Young and Wyant, sitting with the other spectators in Judge Pat McCardle’s courtroom, were finally going to hear Stutzman’s side of the story.

  Gallup eased into his questioning of Stutzman. “Now, did there come a point in time when you left your son with some people in Wyoming?”

  “Yes.”

  “When was that?”

  “That was in July of 1985.”

  “And how did you happen to leave him with those people?”

  “Because of some things I needed to take care of in a couple of different places. I felt it would be better to leave him with some friends rather than be going from place to place.”

  “Before you picked up your son, and before you had gone off to Wyoming, had you had some religious problems with your family?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was that over, briefly?”

  “Just disagreements in—disagreements with different rules of the church.”

  “And this caused some dissension between you and your father, for example?”

  “Right.”

  “Did that lead you to leave the family?”

  “Right.”

  “Now, when did you pick up your son in Wyoming?”

  “On December 14, in 1985.”

  “And what were you driving?”

  “ ’75 AMC.”

  “What was the general condition of the car?”

  “It had close to a hundred thousand miles on it, so it was not in A-1 condition. It ran fairly good.”

  Stutzman said he had put down the backseat of the Gremlin so that Danny would have more room. He gave him a sleeping bag to curl up with.

  “What was your son’s condition when you left Wyoming? Had he been treated for any illness?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “He was on medication.” Stutzman explained that Dean and Margie Barlow had given him a prescription and told him how to administer the medication.

  Stutzman said he had mapped out a route to Ohio via U.S. 81. He said he took 80 at first.

  “I was looking for a place to cut across to 70, which is the route I used traveling back and forth to—from Colorado to Ohio. It seemed like 81 was the most appropriate route to cut across.”

  The truth was that 81 provided a direct route to John Yost’s place.

  Gallup led Stutzman like a horse.

  “At some point in the trip, did you notice anything unusual about your son, at any point, or notice that he wasn’t alert, or what happened if anything?”

  “In the afternoon he complained a little bit about not feeling real good and I suggested stopping, not continuing, for seeing a doctor, and he said he just wanted to lay down and he would be fine.”

  Stutzman moved some luggage and toys so that the boy would have room to stretch out.

  “What eventually drew your attention to the back of the car?”

  “Well, later, late in the evening, during the night—I believe it was time for his medication—I reached back while driving and got a hold of him and I couldn’t get him awake.”

  Gallup looked concerned. “He didn’t respond to touch?”

  “Right. He did not respond. So I pulled over to a—to see what it was about. I was shocked to see that there was no response at all.”

  Gallup questioned Stutzman about his medical training, and the witness said that he had been a hospital orderly and knew the techniques of CPR and heart massage.

  “So, then, would you relate to the judge what, if anything, you did when you found your son didn’t respond to your touch?”

  “I was shocked. I could not believe finding him that way.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I—”

  Gallup told him to speak up.

  “I tried desperately to revive him.”

  Stutzman said that he tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and heart massage, but that nothing worked. The boy was dead, and Stutzman didn’t know what to do. He was somewhere on U.S. 81, close to Chester, Nebraska. He drove to a place off the main road.

  “I had difficulty facing the fact that he had died. I couldn’t understand, couldn’t figure out why he died, or would have died under the circumstances.”

  “I pulled off the main road and made another turn or two and found a place in a valley, up in a valley, where I thought there was nobody else around, and I spent some time, quite a bit of time there praying, and I tried again to revive him and I just—”

  Gallup cut him off. “Did you think at any time that maybe this was due to the disfavor of your God for the way you had left the church? Was that something that was bothering you?”

  The defendant shook his head. “No, I can’t tell—I don’t remember that crossing my mind, that I felt guilty because of my past in any way.”

  Stutzman thought he stayed in the valley for several hours, trying to figure out what to do with the body in the back of the Gremlin.

  “I knew that I could go and try and, you know, find a phone and get an emergency squad, but I did have feelings that maybe the facts would be against me.”

  “What?”

  “The facts would be against me from my family.”

  Stutzman’s voice was so soft, Gallup again asked him to speak louder.

  “I thought the fact about my family might be against me, that I was not taking proper care of him. I feared for that . . . and I had a big difficulty realizing what had happened and why it would have happened. I could not understand why it would have happened.”

  Stutzman said he continued home to Ohio, where he told a number of people different stories about Danny’s whereabouts and death.

  “I guess I did not want to face the fact that he actually had died. I had difficulty accepting that.”

  Gallup wrapped it up. “As you sit there right now, you don’t know what caused your son’s death, is that a fair statement?”

  “Right.”

  Gallup reminded Stutzman that a Saint Louis pathologist had favored the conclusion that Danny had died a natural death.

  “Would that help let you sleep a little better?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  • • •

  It was Dan Werner’s turn, and though he was glad for the chance to confront the accused, he wished that he’d had more time to prepare. Maybe information would have come to light possibly leading to an investigation that would result in an abuse or murder charge.

  “Mr. Stutzman, let’s go back a little bit. You left Danny with foster parents in Wyoming, is that right?”

  “Friends, so to speak.”

  Stutzman said that he and Danny had left Austin, Texas, and arrived at the Barlows’, in Lyman, Wyoming, where he left his son.

  “Why did you leave Danny with the Barlow family?”

  “I was preparing to move, and I was afraid that because of moves . . . I would probably not be able to avoid having to change schools, not be able to keep him in one school for the first half of the school year. And another reason was because of a roommate of mine . . . his body was found, I was informed—had been informed recently, and I was questioned, I had given a statement, and my son was also questioned, and it left a bad effect on him by some of the questions he was asked by the law.”

  Stutzman said his roommate had left Texas, and that he h
ad no idea he was missing until the sheriff came calling.

  Werner asked why Stutzman and his son had left Austin.

  “Because of the psychological effect it left on him, some of the questions that were asked. Plus I had planned on moving, had some things to take care of in the Durango area.”

  After leaving Danny with the Barlows, Stutzman saw friends in Ohio, before returning to Texas. He spent most of his time with Owen Barker in Azle. A month later, he left for Durango to complete some ranch business. He said he did some remodeling for Chuck Freeman.

  Stutzman said that he had planned to pick up Danny and spend Christmas in Ohio and then return to Texas.

  Werner made his move. He was looking for the why of Danny Stutzman’s death.

  “Mr. Stutzman, do you resent your Amish upbringing?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Do you ever recall telling Mr. Chuck Freeman that you resented your Amish upbringing?”

  “I may have mentioned that I didn’t get the education I could—probably would—have benefited from. But as far as the strict rules, being brought up, I have no—”

  Werner cut short Stutzman’s ramblings.

  “Do you recall telling Mr. Freeman that you did not wish to see your son brought up in the Amish faith?”

  “Yes, I felt he had—”

  Again, Werner interrupted the defendant.

  “Were you concerned at that point in time that your parents might get custody of Danny?”

  “I would not know any reason why.”

  Now the question.

  “Did you tell Mr. Freeman that you would rather see Danny dead than being brought up as Amish?”

  Stutzman shook his head. “I don’t remember making that statement.”

  The county attorney continued to push his scenario of Little Boy Blue’s death. Stutzman said that he had returned to Wyoming on December 13 and that he and Danny had left the following morning. Danny seemed to be “in good health and spirits,” but he had a virus and was on medication for it.

  Margie Barlow gave the boy the medication that night, before bedtime, and told Stutzman that it was required four times a day. Stutzman and Danny stopped for a haircut on their way out of Lyman.

  “Then you went directly to 80, is that correct?”

  “Filled up with gas. Bought some soft drinks and got a few breakfast things and we ate in the car.”

  “And after leaving there, did you stop again anywhere before getting to Nebraska?”

  “Not other than for gas or food. Whether we did before we hit Nebraska, I am not sure. I don’t remember the distance.”

  Werner, knowing the boy’s stomach was empty at the autopsy, zeroed in on the meals the Stutzmans might have had on their trip across the plains. Stutzman said that Danny had been munching off and on and hadn’t eaten a real meal until evening.

  Stutzman said he was certain they had stopped to eat in the evening, though he couldn’t recall the name of the restaurant.

  “It was a truck stop where they serve smorgasbord-style food.” He believed it was in Nebraska.

  “He did not eat everything that he had dished himself out, but he ate better than I expected.”

  “Up until this point in time, was he feeling fairly well, or how would you describe his health?”

  “In the afternoon he had some complaints, but it didn’t seem to be serious, according to him. But then in the evening, after he had laid for several hours, he told me he felt a lot better and agreed to eat.”

  “And when you ate at this truck stop, do you remember how long a drive it was before you reached 81 from that truck stop?”

  Stutzman shook his head. It had probably been dusk when he pulled into the truck stop for dinner. They ate, and he filled the car up with gas. Danny sat in the front seat.

  “We didn’t leave right away,” Stutzman added. “I had him change into some pajamas so that he could get in the back.”

  Stutzman said that they talked before Danny fell asleep in the back of the Gremlin. Stutzman said that he checked on him a short time later and that he was still sleeping. Stutzman drove on, occasionally getting out of the car for fresh air.

  When Stutzman turned south on U.S. 81, traveling through Thayer County to U.S. 70, Danny was still curled up in back. Stutzman said he had given the boy his medication at six and at noon.

  “Now, Mr. Stutzman, do you recall speaking with Ted Garber after your arrest in Texas?”

  Stutzman looked confused. “Ted Garber, a detective?”

  “In Azle, Texas?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “After your arrest and before you were brought up here?”

  Stutzman nodded.

  “Now,” Werner continued, “you just told me that you were in Nebraska and stopped at a large truck stop near Salina, Kansas, to eat, is that right?”

  “I do remember Salina, Kansas, the following morning.”

  “The following morning?”

  “Yes, but not while I had my son with me.”

  “And you stated to him that Danny got out, but didn’t eat very much. But you have told me today that Danny ate fairly well at the truck stop. Which is correct?”

  Again Stutzman seemed confused, and his voice was nearly inaudible. “He dished out—what he dished out for himself, he did not eat all of it.”

  It was about midnight—time for Danny’s medication, Stutzman said—when he tried to wake him.

  “I reached back, I got a hold of his leg, and he wouldn’t wake up. So I pulled over and reached back again and couldn’t figure it out. So I got out of the car and went around the back of the car and opened the back end where he had his head back there. And I noticed right way, or shortly, the look on his face—there was something wrong.”

  “What did you notice about his face?” Werner asked.

  “His eyes were, like, rolled back in his head, and his complexion did not look like it normally does.”

  “What did his complexion look like?”

  “White.”

  “What did you do?”

  Stutzman said he tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. But Danny remained still, his eyes rolled back.

  Werner retraced what had been said in court that morning. The Stutzman car was somewhere off U.S. 81 when this happened. Stutzman couldn’t recall exactly how long he had driven by then.

  “Do you remember any towns in the area?”

  “No, I really don’t. I do remember—I remember some landmarks and stuff, and I do—”

  “What type of landmarks?”

  “One of the things I remember that was close by was a cemetery.”

  Stutzman said that after he noticed Danny was not moving and couldn’t be awakened, he felt for a pulse. He tried mouth-to-mouth and heart massage numerous times.

  But nothing worked.

  “And what did you do after you had done all of these things?”

  “I got back in the car and went on a little ways and decided to pull off the main road.”

  “How far did you go? How far is a little ways?”

  Stutzman was uncertain, but conceded it had probably been less than a mile.

  “Mr. Stutzman, when you noticed his eyes rolled back, when you couldn’t get a pulse, why did you not seek help for Danny at that time?”

  “That’s what I keep—still keep asking myself today. I had difficulty believing that it had happened. I could not figure out why it happened. I wish now I would have.”

  “Could Danny have been alive at that time?”

  “I don’t think it is possible. Well, I’m not going to swear to it, but I don’t think so at all, because at the time there was no pulse and I spent several—at least several more hours with him after that, and he never did breathe during that time.”

  “This was after you pulled off the road that you spent several hours with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you outside the car when you spent that time with him?”

  “I kept him in the car u
ntil I left him. But, yes, I did get out of the car some of the time.”

  “Could Danny have been alive when you placed him in that ditch?”

  “I don’t see any way possible.”

  “Do you recall Officer Garber asking you that question down in Azle, Texas, after your arrest?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Werner probed further. “Do you recall telling Garber when asked, was Danny alive when you put him in the ditch, do you recall telling him, ‘That is a good question. I don’t think so, but he could have been?’ ”

  “No, I don’t recall that.”

  “Did Danny have a T-shirt, a wrestling T-shirt?”

  “From Wyoming?” Stutzman looked puzzled.

  Werner handed Stutzman a photograph, marked as exhibit number three. He asked if the shirt had been Danny’s.

  Stutzman studied the photograph for a moment, then asked if it was a child’s size.

  “Did Danny have a T-shirt like that?”

  Stutzman shrugged it off. “I don’t recall. But it is possible. He had a lot of different T-shirts with a lot of different emblems. . . . It is possible. I don’t know.”

  “Did you buy a T-shirt like that for Danny?”

  “I don’t recall buying a T-shirt with Panther Wrestling on it.”

  “Did you throw out a T-shirt like that in the country?”

  “I don’t remember throwing anything out.”

  Werner changed the direction of his cross-examination. “What type of toys did Danny have?”

  “That he was playing with? He had all kinds of toys.”

  Werner asked him to describe some, and Stutzman responded that Danny had some video games. He also had a soccer ball on that trip two years ago.

  “Do you remember him playing with any toys that were blue in color, with kind of a metallic paint?” Werner asked.

  “Blue? No, I don’t.”

  “Mr. Stutzman, did you kill Danny?”

  The room was so quiet that no one had difficulty hearing the man’s response.

  “No, I did not.”

  “Did you help Danny die in any way?”