They brought in Charles Waid first.
When he sat down across from me, he looked me in the eye, but his expression was devoid of emotion.
I looked at him and asked my first question: “Are you sorry for what you did? Do you have any remorse?”
“Of course I’m sorry for what I did,” he said.
“Then you have remorse?”
“Yes.”
His response was matter-of-fact, as if I were asking him about his favorite TV show instead of whether or not he felt bad for murdering three people.
I asked my second question: “If it were possible, would you have done things differently? Do you wish you hadn’t done it?”
Again his answer was straight and to the point. “Of course I wish I hadn’t done it, but it’s too late now.”
“Why did you do this? What was your motive?”
“It was money. I was promised two thousand dollars.”
“What did you need two thousand dollars for?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“I was trying to get custody of my kids, and I needed two thousand for court money. Charlie said y’all had money in the house and he’d pay me after the job was done.”
I shook my head, amazed. “So, you were willing to kill children to get children? Where’s the logic in that?”
“I really don’t know,” he said. “I can’t answer that. I have kids of my own.”
I moved on to the next question. “Initially, whose idea was it to kill my family?”
“Erin’s,” he said.
“Erin said that she tried to stop you that night when y’all got there and told y’all to leave. Is that true?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t think anyone tried to stop us.”
The next questions were difficult to ask, and again I already knew the answers. But I wanted him to confront the truth about what he had done and admit it. I wanted to see his reaction when he said it. I wanted to watch his eyes and see if there was even a shred of remorse.
“Who shot Bubba, and who stabbed Tyler?”
Again, his answer was calm, direct, and matter-of-fact. If he felt any emotion or remorse, he concealed it very well. “I shot Bubba, and we both stabbed Tyler.”
“If y’all wanted us dead, that was one thing,” I said. “But why did you kill the kids?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t have a good answer for that. Like I said, I have children of my own. I guess I’ll just have to live with that.”
“You bet you will,” I replied. “For the rest of your life.”
I went on. “Does it hurt or bother you that you took human life?”
“Yeah, it bothers me. Of course.” From his tone, I got the impression that he considered that a stupid question.
In my last question, I wanted to address the issue of Charles’s relationship to God: “When you die, do you know where you will spend eternity? Do you know Jesus as your Savior?”
Charles’s answer nearly floored me. He nodded. “Yes. I know Jesus, and I’m going to heaven when I die.”
I hadn’t expected that response. I suppose I expected him to say either, “No, and I don’t care” or “No, but I wish I did know.” The thought that he might say he knew Jesus Christ and expected to go to heaven had never entered my mind.
I nodded toward the sheriff ’s deputy and said I was finished talking to Charles. They escorted him out, and a few seconds later brought in Charlie Wilkinson. The difference between Charlie’s demeanor and Charles Waid’s was like night and day. When he sat down across the table from me, he immediately looked at the floor.
“Look me in the eye, Charlie.”
He looked up, and I read my first question.
“Are you sorry for what you did? Do you have any remorse?”
Charlie hung his head and looked at the floor again.
“Charlie, look at me,” I said again.
When he looked up, his eyes were filled with tears.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry for what I did.”
“So, are you remorseful?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
I moved on to my next question. “If it were possible, would you have done things differently?”
Charlie dropped his gaze to the floor again. “Yes.”
“Charlie, I want you to look me in the eye like a man. Tell me what you would have done differently.”
“I wouldn’t have done it at all,” he said.
“Why did you do this? What was your motive?”
“I did it for Erin. I did it for love,” he said.
I shook my head. “That’s very sick love. Did you think for one instant that you were going to be able to come in and kill us, take off with my daughter, get married, live happily ever after, have a family of your own, and never have this come up or bother you? Did you ever think you’d even get away with it?”
Charlie hung his head again and shook it. “No. I wasn’t thinking,” he said softly.
“You’ve got that right,” I replied. “You weren’t thinking.”
I moved on to my next question. “Initially, whose idea was it to kill my family?”
“It was Erin’s idea from the start,” he said. “It was her plan and her idea.”
“I’m not buying it,” I said.
Charlie didn’t respond, so we went on to the next question.
“Erin said that she tried to stop you that night when y’all got there and told y’all to leave. Is that true?”
For the first time in our meeting, Charlie’s demeanor changed. He got a puzzled look on his face and his tone became defensive, “No. Of course not. It was totally her idea.”
My next question seemed to strike a nerve. “Who shot Bubba, and who stabbed Tyler?”
Charlie hung his head again. “Charles Waid shot Bubba and stabbed Tyler.” Then he added, “But I may have stabbed a few times at Tyler, too.”
“If y’all wanted us dead, that’s one thing. But why did y’all kill the kids?”
“Charles Waid said we couldn’t leave any witnesses.”
“So you’re putting all this on Charles Waid?”
He nodded, “Uh-huh.”
“So you’re not taking responsibility for killing my two children?”
“No, I’m not saying that,” Charlie replied.
“That sounds like what you’re saying. Look me in the eye, Charlie. Right now, I’m not addressing Erin. I’m not addressing Bobbi. I’m not addressing Waid. I’m addressing you. We’re here. Me and you. When are you going to admit and confess and take ownership and responsibility for what you did?”
Charlie didn’t answer.
“You need to be responsible for your actions and for what you did. I don’t want to hear what Waid did or that it was Waid’s idea. You could have run out. You could have said no, even before you came into the house. You’re as guilty as Waid.”
He looked down at the floor.
“Does it bother you to know that you took human lives?”
Charlie nodded, eyes still fixed on the floor.
“Do you know Jesus as your Savior? When you die, do you know where you will spend eternity?”
As Waid’s had, Charlie’s answer surprised me.
He looked up and rather matter-of-factly said, “Heaven.”
I looked over to the guard and nodded. Our face-to-face meetings were over. Now it was time for the public hearing and my victim impact statement.
VICTIM IMPACT STATEMENT 3
I had about a fifteen-minute break before I faced Charlie and Charles again. This time I would give my victim impact statement. After that, the two young men would be sentenced to spend the rest of their lives in prison. I already felt drained from my face-to-face meetings with them, but I would find the strength for the next few minutes. Those minutes were for Penny and Bubba and Tyler.
When I entered the courtroom, I noticed a few members of the media present, but I decided to
ignore them and focus on what I was about to say. I took a seat at the prosecutor’s table up front, on the left side of the courtroom. Lisa Tanner, from the attorney general’s office, couldn’t attend, so she sent one of her assistants to represent her. Robert Vititow, the Rains County district attorney, also sat with me.
Not long after I sat down, Charles Waid and Charlie Wilkinson were brought in and seated at the defendant’s table. When the judge gave me my cue, I got up and walked to the front of the courtroom, carrying a framed photo of my family and me. Before I started, I walked over and set it on the table in front of Charlie and Charles.
“While I speak, I want you to look at this. I want you to see what you took from me.” As I gave my statement, I noticed several times Charlie and Charles looking down at that picture.
I was nervous as I began to speak, but God gave me strength, and I began my statement:
As I stand here today and look face-to-face with the ones who murdered my family, I wasn’t sure how I would feel. Would I have anger, sadness, or grief of losing my family? Not sure what emotions I would have. Maybe a mixture of them all.
One thing is for sure. I see two troubled young men before me. Two men who have thrown their whole lives away. You’ve thrown your lives away, and for what? It was so senseless.
At first I had so much anger, so much bitterness towards you, but in time God has shown me what it means to forgive. So I want to say to you today, I forgive you, not so much for your sake, but for my own. I refuse to grow into a bitter old man. If I am going to heal and move on, I must find forgiveness in my heart.
That has been the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do, because you have taken so much away from me. You took my wife of eighteen years, whom I’ll never be able to see or talk to again. You took my boys away from me. Matthew, only thirteen years old. Tyler, only eight years old. I’ll never be able to see my boys drive their first car. I’ll never see them graduate high school or college. I’ll never get to see my boys walk down the aisle and get married. Never will they be able to give me grandchildren. Because of you, I’ll never be able to see my boys grow up.
Then, after you took my family away, you didn’t stop there. You burnt our house down, taking from me all my family photos, all the little special gifts and cards, all the things that were so precious to me. You took all these things from me as if they were nothing. So for me, forgiveness hasn’t come easy. But in spite of your hatred and evil efforts, I’ll carry on with all the wonderful memories that will forever be ingrained in my heart. And that is something you will never be able to take from me.
You took lives and the prosecutors wanted to send you to death row, but I protested and asked them not to. You took lives, but I gave you back life in return. That’s the difference between you and me. I’m not a murderer. Life to me is so precious.
So I ask you today, was it worth it to throw away your lives? To spend forever in prison, locked away behind bars, knowing you will never get married. You will never have children. You will never have grandchildren. You will never see another sunrise or sunset as free men or walk on a sandy beach. Never ever will you enjoy the things a free man does.
So again, was it worth it?
I have been asked many times how could I forgive someone who has murdered my family and taken away the most precious thing that I had. I found that answer and my comfort in Romans chapter twelve, “Bless them which persecute you. Bless and curse not. Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men. Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine; I will repay,’ saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirsts, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.”
Charlie Wilkinson, may God have mercy on your soul.
Charles Waid, may God have mercy on your soul.”
I picked up my picture, went back to the prosecutor’s table, and sat down.
Moments later the judge asked Charlie and Charles to stand up, and then he sentenced them to spend the rest of their lives in the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division.
Charlie Wilkinson and Charles Waid were headed to prison for the rest of their lives. It was a better outcome than they could have expected apart from my intervention. The prosecutors told me that the only reason any of the defendants received a lighter sentence was because I asked for it.
I hoped that Charlie and Charles would use wisely the time they had been given.
2 Charlie Wilkinson and Charles Waid were sentenced on January 6, 2009, four days after Erin Caffey and Bobbi Johnson.
3 Charles Waid and Charlie Wilkinson were sentenced in separate hearings a few minutes apart. Thus, Terry gave his victim impact statement twice, first to Charles Waid and then to Charlie Wilkinson. Because his statement was the same both times, in this book the two hearings have been combined into a single scene.
Chapter 25
Plea Bargain
Nothing is impossible with God. —LUKE I:37 (NIV)
DESPITE MY VICTORY in persuading the attorney general’s office to back off the death penalty for Charlie and Charles, I knew that another, much more difficult, negotiation lay ahead. Erin couldn’t receive the death penalty, but she could be sentenced to life without the possibility of parole. And that’s exactly what the attorney general’s office wanted. Robert Vititow, the Rains County district attorney, believed that Erin had been involved in the crime but was not the mastermind. However, Lisa Tanner and the attorney general’s office were convinced that Erin had planned and orchestrated the whole thing. They wanted her to receive the maximum possible sentence.
Because Erin had been charged with three counts of capital murder, if we went to trial, it would be an all-or-nothing proposition. Either Erin would be acquitted and go free, or she would be convicted. Conviction would mean an automatic sentence of life without parole.
I wished she were facing a lesser charge, because then a jury would have had some discretion in the sentencing.
Part of me wanted to “roll the dice” and go to trial in hopes that God might work a miracle and have Erin acquitted. The problem with that approach was that if a jury didn’t render a verdict in our favor, Erin would never have any hope of getting out of prison. As I thought about the evidence and about the fact that Charlie, Charles, and Bobbi would all testify against Erin, I knew there was little chance that she would be acquitted.
Erin’s attorney, Mr. McDowell, had hired a private investigator in hopes of discovering something that might work in Erin’s favor, but he wasn’t able to find much that would be helpful. As we moved into December, it became clear that if we went to trial on charges of capital murder, Erin would be convicted. Mr. McDowell confirmed my fears when he told me there was almost no chance of an acquittal.
It was important to me that Erin have hope. I wanted her to be able to look forward to the possibility—even if it was a remote possibility— of living on the outside again. If we lost at trial, no such hope would exist. I began to think that a plea bargain, rather than a trial, was in Erin’s best interest. Would the prosecutors be willing to give us one?
This situation was completely different from those of the two men. In their case, I could make a moral argument for a lesser sentence. But that kind of argument would carry no weight this time. In fact, the prosecutors would be able to use my own words against me, if they wanted to. When I was presenting my argument about Charlie and Charles, I said that I’d be willing for Erin to face life without parole if that was the only way for the two men to escape the death penalty.
Lisa Tanner and Robert Vititow were under no obligation whatsoever to offer or accept a plea bargain. Ultimately, Erin was at their mercy. If they chose to go to trial, there was nothing I could do. I prayed that God might again give me wisdom when it came time to speak to them about a plea bargain.
As it turned
out, I received an extra month to think about that question. Originally, it had looked as if Erin’s trial would start in January 2009, but at a pretrial hearing early in December, Penny’s mother asked if we could move the trial date off.
“With the Christmas season coming up, it would be nice to get a break from all of this,” she said. “Couldn’t we move it off a month?”
The prosecutors discussed it and agreed that perhaps a little break would be a good thing for everybody. The judge agreed as well. There would be another pretrial hearing in January, but the trial was moved off a month to February 2009.
I didn’t know it at the time, but that pretrial hearing would quickly become much more.
BLIND SIGHT
By now I was speaking in a different church almost every Sunday, and although doing so was a great blessing, it was often tiring and stressful because the uncertainty of Erin’s situation wore heavily on me. Nevertheless, I spoke whenever I could because it was one way I could see God bringing something good from my tragedy.
Sometimes when I spoke, I set a picture of my family on the pulpit or the Communion table. When it felt right, I dedicated the message to them. I didn’t always do that, but I always brought the burned page with me and showed it to the congregation as part of my testimony. Even after eight months, I was still amazed by that page and how it had survived the fire.
One thing still bothered me. I didn’t know what book that page had come from. Because the edges were burned, I could find no title or author name. It had almost certainly been one of Penny’s books. She was the big reader in our family. Before the tragedy, I didn’t read much, so I wasn’t familiar with the books she had. By this time I had pretty much given up hope of finding out the name of the book or its author.
I should have known that God had that matter well in hand.
On December 7, I spoke at Greenville Bible Church in Greenville, Texas. After the service, Pastor Jim Corbet and his wife, Marcia, invited me to their home for dinner. After we finished eating, I stayed and visited a little while, and we got to talking about the page.
Terror by Night Page 18