Justin began to get agitated with Jennifer. “Because I have to do something, and I can’t go to the party with you.”
“Just come with me to the party. It’ll be a good time. We’ll have fun,” she persisted.
Justin shook his head. “I have to drive to Austin first to pick someone up, and then I have to drive down to Houston. I have to drive them down there with me.”
“Why are you going to do that?”
“I have to drop them off at Bart’s house,” Justin uttered.
Jennifer was finally getting somewhere. And, as she expected, it had something to do with Bart. “Why aren’t you taking Bart with you?” Jennifer asked, thinking it was strange that he would be doing such a big favor for Bart, but Bart would not even be there. “I don’t understand what is going on.”
Justin continued to hem and haw. “We have this plan, and I’m going to get some money out of this.”
Jennifer waited for him to explain himself fully. When he failed to further explain, she demanded, “You need to tell me straight up, Justin, what exactly is going on here? I don’t understand.”
Justin finally realized his childhood friend was not going to let up. “We’ve got a plan,” he started off slowly, “a plan to kill Bart’s family.”
Jennifer was stunned. It was the last thing she expected to hear. She thought maybe there was some kind of drug deal going on, or maybe they were messed up with some type of theft or something. But murder? Of Bart’s family? It sounded completely insane.
“I’m driving to Houston, actually Sugar Land, and dropping off some guy Bart knows named Adam. Dropping him off at Bart’s folks’ house.”
Jennifer was waiting for the punch line. She knew this had to be some horrible joke and she was being set up.
“Come on, Justin,” she tried to laugh it off.
But instead of denials, Justin went on with a discussion of the plans. “Adam is supposed to wait inside the house until Bart brings his family home, and then he is going to shoot them.” There was no guffaw from Justin. No punch to Jennifer’s shoulder, followed by a hearty “Gotcha!” Justin was not laughing. He was not even stifling a smile. He was serious.
Despite all the visual evidence, Jennifer held out hope that there was an inkling of acting on Justin’s part. So she, too, decided to play along. “Okay, well, why would you want to take part in something like that?”
“Money,” Justin flatly responded.
“You don’t need money,” Jennifer responded.
“Insurance money. Bart’s parents are worth a lot of money, and Bart promised me a cut of it.”
Somehow, the mention of Bart and insurance money in the same sentence clicked for Jennifer. She knew now that Justin was not messing with her, but that he was actually going to participate in the murder of Bart Whitaker’s parents. She decided to give it one more shot. “Quit lying to me, Justin. You cannot be serious about this.”
“It’s true,” he countered. “We’re doing it tonight.”
“Justin, come on. This is utterly insane. You cannot be involved in this!” she exclaimed, her voice rising.
Justin shushed her.
“Don’t shoosh me,” she snapped at him. “You cannot be a part of this!”
“Jennifer, be quiet,” he tried to calm her down. “Bart’s going to hear you.”
“I don’t care if he does hear me!” she screamed at Justin from the top of her lungs, loud enough so that the people in the next apartment could hear her. Jennifer turned around, disgusted, and stormed out of Justin’s room. She walked back into the living area, expecting to see Bart and Felicia, but they were not there. She could hear voices from inside Bart’s bedroom.
Jennifer barged directly into Bart’s room and spotted him and Felicia lying on his bed. “Bart, are you seriously going to let this happen?” she asked in a stern, shrill voice.
Bart sat up slowly and smiled at Jennifer. He then rolled his legs off the bed, placed his feet on the floor, and stood up. He leisurely walked toward Jennifer, put his hands on the sides of her shoulders, and leaned in toward her right ear.
“Everything is going to be okay,” Bart whispered into Jennifer’s ear. “You don’t have to worry.” His voice was calm—practically soothing. He pulled back, while still grasping her shoulders, to give her a closer look.
Jennifer reacted violently. She pushed him away from her, breaking the clutch he had on her shoulders. She was livid. “If anything happens to Justin,” she practically screamed at Bart, “you are going to be sorry!”
Bart again smiled at the frazzled young woman. He then turned his back to her and walked out of his bedroom. He ignored her as he sauntered past.
Jennifer was stunned by his nonchalance. She realized it was a lost cause and took off. If she could help it, she did not want to be in Bart Whitaker’s presence ever again. She quickly darted out of the apartment, not even giving Bart or Felicia a second glance. As she scooted out, she caught Justin’s eyes momentarily. She could see him pissing his life away right before her. She began to tear up, but she knew it was best she go. She did not speak to Justin as she dejectedly stormed out of the apartment.
Jennifer knew she had to do something to help her friend. It was obvious he was not going to listen to reason. She had tried everything she could think of to convince him to abort the plans, but Justin would not heed her warnings. Jennifer needed to talk to someone to figure out what she should do about Justin and his crazy plans. She did not return to her rush party, but instead she found her car and drove home to call someone.
Jennifer got home, called her boyfriend, and hysterically began to tell him what had happened. When she was done telling the story, his advice was simple and clear: “You have to call the police.” He repeated it, “You have to call the police.”
Jennifer obviously knew this was the only choice she had. She could not let someone go off and murder other human beings.
Back at the apartment, Bart was not happy. He walked into Justin’s room and said, “What the hell was that all about?”
Justin looked defeated. “I’m sorry, man. That’s just the way she is. She thinks she’s my big sister or something, and that she has to protect me. She’s always been like that with me.” He seemed embarrassed.
Bart simply shook his head, perhaps unsure of how to react about someone caring so deeply for another person. “Regardless,” he told Justin, “we need to get it in gear and do this thing right now.”
Justin nodded, almost bobbing his entire body. “Right, right. Okay, I’m ready to do this, if you are.”
Bart nodded in agreement. “I’ll call Adam and let him know you are on your way to pick him up.”
Justin nodded again. His heart raced as he realized what was finally beginning to unfold before him. “Let’s go.”
20
April 4, 2001
Waco Park Apartments
Waco, Texas
Justin sat in the car with the engine idling. He had no idea whose car it was, other than he thought that Felicia had somehow managed to steal it from a friend of hers. Felicia had managed to lift her friend’s car keys, make a copy of the key, and give it to Bart, who, in turn, passed it on to Justin.
Justin Peters, a National Merit Scholarship recipient, was sitting in a stolen vehicle, with a gun, on his way to Sugar Land to help murder his roommate’s parents. Not quite where he imagined himself just a few years earlier when he graduated from Health Centers High School in San Antonio.
Bart stood next to the stolen car, with Justin sitting inside in the passenger seat. “Are you ready?” he asked Justin.
“I think so.” Justin’s trepidation was apparent.
“It’s going to be all right,” Bart reassured his friend, using the same tone he had tried in calming down Jennifer. “I’ll call you later to make sure everything is going according to plan.”
Justin nodded, threw the car into gear, and began to drive away from Baylor University, away from Waco, and away from any s
ense of normalcy he may have once recognized in himself.
He didn’t get very far.
Less than three miles outside of the Waco city limits, Justin looked down at the car’s dashboard. He could not believe what he was seeing. The gas tank was practically on empty. He realized he needed to hit a gas station soon, or he was going to be stranded on the open highway, late at night, in the dark, with no one to help him.
Justin knew Bart would be pissed, too, if he broke down. It would be the second time that his plan had failed to come to fruition. He did not think Bart would be as calm about failure a second time around.
Justin drove onward in search of a gas station. The late-night hour, however, made it a seemingly impossible task. Most of the outlying areas of Waco tend to shut down when the sun sets. It was way beyond that point. Furthermore, the majority of the available gas stations were still mired in the ’60s and ’70s, with full-service pumps. No credit card–accepting pump in sight. Justin drove past two full-service stations that were closed for the night. He could not believe this was happening to him.
Bart did not want the car filled up with gas while inside Waco. He was afraid a surveillance camera would have taken Justin’s picture, and he would have been spotted and easily tracked down for driving a stolen car.
Justin drove on, as long as possible, until he ran out of fuel. He pulled over to the side of the freeway. Here he was, stuck on the side of I-35, in the middle of nowhere. Justin pulled out his cell phone and gave Bart a call.
“Bart, it’s me, Justin.”
Bart answered from the comfort and safety of their apartment. “Justin? What’s going on?”
“You are not going to believe this, Bart.” Justin tried to laugh it off.
“Is everything okay, Justin? Is there something wrong?”
“Yeah, I ran out of gas!” Justin sighed in exasperation.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Bart replied. “Weren’t there plenty of gas stations on the way out of town?”
“Oh yeah. Except they were all built in the 1950s and have owners who think it’s still the 1970s and everyone needs a full-service inspection.”
“Where are you?” Bart asked Justin.
“I’m on I-35, not that far outside of Waco. I don’t know where specifically, because it’s too dark outside and I couldn’t see any noticeable landmarks or street signs to let me know where I am exactly.”
“All right.” Bart sounded a bit harried. “I’ll come on out there and get you right now.”
Justin assumed the plan had fallen through, and it would finally all be over. He was ready for it to end, to be quite frank.
Bart had other ideas. “I’ll bring a gas can with some gas for you. We can fill up that car and get you on your way to the nearest gas station and get you back out on the road again.”
Justin seemed a bit dejected, but he agreed. “Okay, I’ll be in the car. I’m sure you won’t miss me.”
As Justin sat in the stolen car, with a gun inside, waiting for his roommate to come give him more gasoline so he could be on his way, his other friend sat in her apartment and fretted about what she should do. Jennifer knew that she had to tell someone about Bart and Justin’s plans to kill Bart’s parents. She just did not want Justin to get into trouble, because she knew this would be serious and would forestall any chance her friend had of getting his life back on course.
Jennifer knew she had to do the right thing, and that was to make sure the Whitakers were not harmed in any way. She nervously picked up her telephone and punched in 911.
The call was immediately picked up by a dispatcher. “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
“I need to report a potential murder,” Jennifer declared. “A friend of mine is about to take part in a murder, and I want to stop him.”
“What’s your friend’s name, ma’am?”
“I’d rather not say. I just want to make sure these people don’t get hurt.”
“What are their names, ma’am?”
“All I know is their last name is Whitaker and they live in Sugar Land, Texas, just outside of Houston. They are the parents of my friend’s roommate. His roommate wants them killed, and he’s convinced my friend to drive down from Waco with a gun. Something about giving the gun to another guy, who will be hiding in the Whitaker house, and [will] kill them when they come home from dinner.”
The dispatcher continued to take down the information about the alleged hit.
Unbeknownst to Jennifer, her boyfriend also called police about the murder conspiracy. He was not shy about giving out Justin’s name.
After Jennifer contacted 911, she hung up and called Justin.
“Hello,” he answered somewhat somberly.
“Justin!” Jennifer screamed. “Where are you?”
“I’m on I-35, why?”
“Justin, I just called the cops. They know what’s going on.”
“You what?” Justin was startled by the revelation.
“I called the cops, but I didn’t give them your name,” Jennifer replied, and tried to assuage his concerns. “They don’t know you are involved, just that someone was trying to kill Bart’s parents.”
“Goddamn it, Jennifer!” Justin was enraged. “This has nothing to do with you! Why the hell do you always have to butt into my life?”
Again, it was not the response Jennifer had expected. Maybe a little thank-you would be nice. “I’d better get the hell out of here before the cops bust my ass” would have been even more preferable.
“Justin, I’m just trying to get you out of something you will never, ever be able to come back from, if you go through with this. You don’t need to be doing Bart’s dirty work for him. This is his problem, not yours.”
“Well, now, thanks to you, it definitely is my problem. And once Bart finds out, he’s gonna make damn sure it becomes your problem, too.” Justin was incensed. “Damn it, Jennifer! Just butt out, okay?” Justin hung up his cell phone on his former best friend.
Jennifer stared at her phone and began to cry softly. She knew there was nothing more she could do for her lost friend, but sit back and wait.
Approximately twenty minutes after Justin spoke with Bart about running out of gas, and two minutes after hearing Jennifer tell him she called the cops, Justin’s cell phone rang again. Needless to say, he was shocked by who was on the other line. It was Bart’s father, Kent Whitaker.
Hello?” Justin answered his phone.
“Is this Justin?” Mr. Whitaker asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Justin, hello. This is Kent Whitaker, Bart’s dad. How are you doing, son?” Kent sounded cheerful and pleasant.
Justin was stunned. The last person he expected to hear from was the man he was on his way to kill. “I’m—I’m okay, Mr. Whitaker,” he stammered.
“Justin, I hate to bother you, but I think we are the victim of some type of prank call, son. Somebody from Waco called 911, and they called the police, and the police called us down here.”
“Y-yes, sir,” Justin stammered.
“They said something ridiculous about you and Bart, and I’m sure it’s some kind of silly joke one of your college buddies is probably playing on you.” Kent Whitaker chuckled. “Apparently, they said you and Bart were on your way down to Sugar Land and that y’all wanted to kill me and Bart’s mother. Ha!” Kent laughed at the thought of his son and roommate participating in something so devious.
Justin played dumb. “What, sir? That’s just ridiculous!”
“That’s exactly what I said. I know you two boys like to have fun, but I also know you had nothing to do with this.”
“No, sir. Not at all.”
“Okay, then, Justin. Sorry to bother you. Maybe you can find out who put you two boys up to this? Well, you take care of yourself and have a good night.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Whitaker. I’ll tell Bart you called. Good night, sir.”
“Good night, Justin.”
Justin hung up his cell p
hone and let out a huge sigh of relief. He could not believe he just spoke with Bart’s dad. He had a bad feeling that everything was going to come crashing down around him. Sure enough, just as that thought entered his mind, his cell phone rang again. He was so deep into concentration that the shrill sound alarmed him.
“Hello?” Justin answered, and wondered who in the hell was calling him now.
“Justin Peters?” a stern male voice on the other end of the line asked.
“This is Justin.”
“Justin, I’m with the Waco Police Department.”
Justin Peters could not believe this was happening to him.
Less than ten minutes later, Justin looked through the window of the stolen car. He noticed a large blue Yukon SUV pull up behind him on the side of the freeway. It was Bart.
When Justin looked up at his rearview mirror, he could see Bart ambling toward him. He was carrying a one-gallon red plastic gas can.
Bart walked up to the driver’s-side window of the car Justin was sitting in and motioned for Justin to roll down the window.
“Here’s your gas, man,” Bart offered.
“It ain’t gonna happen, Bart.”
“Why not?” he asked, sounding slightly perturbed.
“Because,” Justin responded, “I just a call from your dad. He knows.”
The reaction back in Sugar Land, and Austin, was quite different. Bart’s parents could not believe their son would plot to kill them. They simply chalked it up to a silly prank that had spun out of control, because they just knew Bart was incapable of such horrifying behavior. Lynne Sorsby, Bart’s girlfriend, called the whole thing “ridiculous.” She also knew that Bart would never plot to kill his family and that he cared for them too much. Like the Whitakers, she simply blew the whole thing off.
Bart, however, did not blow it off. He was so freaked out by the inclusion of the police that he took off in his car and ran away to Dallas. He was gone for at least three days before his family could track him down. When they finally got ahold of their son, he told them he was scared, confused, and worried that he was going to be blamed for something he had no involvement in. His parents, however, assured their eldest son that they knew there was no way any of this could be true, and that he would never do anything to harm them or anyone else, for that matter.
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