by Colin McEvoy
The other reason he saved Mary Jane for last was because, quite frankly, the woman was a talker. She had a reputation among the other church members as being a bit of an oddball, and was well known for her tendency to ramble endlessly once you got into a conversation with her.
When Mary Jane answered, Steve braced himself and explained that Rhonda had been found shot inside the church, and that she hadn’t made it. To his surprise, however, Mary Jane seemed neither shocked nor even particularly fazed by the news. In fact, rather than acknowledging it, she started talking about the various things she had been doing that day, which included a trip to the hairdresser followed by some shopping.
“Mary Jane,” Steve said, dumbfounded. “Did you hear what I said? There’s been a shooting.”
Mary Jane continued talking, but again barely seemed to acknowledge what was said to her. Steve wondered if she was in some sort of shock, and whether Mary Jane’s nonresponse was some sort of defense mechanism.
After listening politely for a few minutes as Mary Jane continued to talk, Steve finally interrupted and said, “Look, Mary Jane, as far as I know, Pastor Greg is with Rhonda now in the hospital. Please pray for Rhonda, okay?”
“Thanks, I will. Good-bye,” Mary Jane said before hanging up.
* * *
It was around 7 o’clock when Judy finally got back to her Allentown home, a modestly sized house her father-in-law built. She sat down on the couch across from an impressive ten-foot fireplace that served as the centerpiece for the living room. Judy had messages from several of her fellow church members, but she didn’t feel up to speaking to most of them at the moment. She was too exhausted, too shaken up. Nevertheless, she picked up the phone and dialed the one person she desperately wanted to see: her best friend, Sue Brunner, who had been attending Trinity Evangelical nearly as long as Judy had.
Sue came over as quickly as she could, and Judy told her everything that she had gone through that day, from the horrible discovery of Rhonda’s crumpled body on the church office floor, to the moment they said good-bye to her at the hospital. Sixty-one-year-old Sue, like Judy, had blonde hair and looked younger than her age, having maintained an active and happy lifestyle. Now, however, both women were in a state of shock and disbelief that something like this could happen at their church. And then they asked themselves the inevitable question: Who could have done this?
Judy’s mind went to the strange, unkempt man who had attended the Sunday service just three days ago. New people caught everybody’s attention at their small church community, but this man struck Judy and other parishioners as particularly unusual. He told conflicting stories to everybody he spoke to, and Bob Gerstenberg had told Judy the man tried to steal a glass during communion.
Judy even heard that the stranger had said something like, “This would be a good place to rob.” Sue agreed, the man had certainly been strange. Maybe he had returned to rob the church as he had suggested.
Les Zellner interrupted the two women’s discussion. “I know who did it,” he said.
For a few long moments, the room was completely silent, as if Les’s sudden proclamation had frozen time dead in its tracks.
“What?” Sue asked. “How could you know who did it?”
“I know who did it,” he replied matter-of-factly. “It’s Mary Jane Fonder.”
“What are you talking about?” Sue asked, even more flabbergasted. Mary Jane Fonder had been her neighbor in Springfield Township for twenty years, and she had known Mary Jane’s parents for another ten years prior to that. Sure, Mary Jane, was odd, everybody knew that. But in all the years Sue had known her, Mary Jane had never seemed at all violent.
But Les was on the church council, and he had heard a few things recently about Mary Jane Fonder. She had been hounding Pastor Shreaves in recent weeks, Les said. She’d been leaving long-winded, almost incoherent messages for him all the time and even started buying food for him and leaving it on his doorstep. It had gotten to the point where the pastor went to the church council and asked them to convince Mary Jane to stop.
“I think she was jealous of Rhonda,” Les said.
Sue looked at him quizzically. She didn’t believe it.
“Wow,” Sue said to Les, with a laugh, “you need to be a detective.”
CHAPTER 7
Three men close to Rhonda were of special interest to the police that day: the man she had recently broken up with, the guy she was supposed to see that night, and the man she had been in an abusive relationship with.
Troopers Rhodunda and Webb were assigned to interview Gregory Danisavich, the local man Rhonda had set a date with for that evening. They found him at his house in Coopersburg, a small town about ten minutes from the church.
“Is this in reference to Rhonda?” he asked, a bit frantic. “Is she okay?”
He was supposed to pick up Rhonda at her apartment at 6 o’clock that evening. After receiving no response from knocking on her door, he waited for fifteen minutes before heading back home. It was now 7:50 p.m. Danisavich said he was worried that he hadn’t heard from Rhonda and had planned to call her later that night.
They had met at a Lehigh Valley Hospital bipolar support group three months ago, Danisavich told the troopers. They had gotten together outside of the group—as friends—for meals or movies, maybe five or ten times.
Rhonda was very depressed at times, and Danisavich said he would try to make her feel better by taking her places. Rhonda said she had been suicidal in the past, but never mentioned any specifics except one time she said she felt like driving off the road into a ditch, Danisavich said.
Rhonda had wanted to get a job, Danisavich said, but couldn’t take full-time work because then she would be cut off from government assistance, which she relied on for her housing. She had gotten a job at the Giant grocery store in Hellertown, but she had to stop because she could not work as many hours as the store wanted without forfeiting the assistance.
As for men, Rhonda was still upset over the abortion she’d had years ago, Danisavich said. Recently, she had been dating a man named Ray whom she had met on Match.com but Danisavich said Ray stopped calling her about a month ago. Rhonda was upset about it, but she believed Ray had only wanted sex from her, anyway.
As for Danisavich, he and Rhonda had last talked Monday when he called to reschedule a dinner date from the previous Thursday. She seemed in good spirits when they talked.
Danisavich told the troopers he was home the entire day taking care of his mother, Linda, who was recovering from surgery. The only time he left the house was to get pizza for his mother around 5 o’clock. Linda Danisavich confirmed her son’s alibi.
Meanwhile, Gregg Dietz and Patrick McGuire, two more state troopers from the Dublin barracks, were en route to Philadelphia to seek out Ray Finkel, Rhonda’s most recent ex-boyfriend whose name had already come up several times in their investigation.
It turned out not to be such an easy task. When the troopers arrived at the address listed on his driver’s license in suburban Horsham, they learned he no longer lived there. Finkel wasn’t at the next apartment in northeast Philadelphia the troopers had been referred to, either. But with the help of Philadelphia police, Finkel was found at his parents’ house and detained for the state troopers.
Dietz and McGuire placed him in the back of their unmarked car and told Finkel he wasn’t under arrest and had no obligation to talk to them. Finkel agreed to answer the troopers’ questions.
The troopers started off by inquiring what Finkel did earlier that day. Like usual, Finkel said he took a 6:11 a.m. train that arrived in Center City around 7:30 a.m. From the station at Eighth and Market Streets, Finkel said he walked the short distance to Public Buildings Services, where he worked as a financial analyst. He was there all day with his boss and another coworker except for a noontime meeting and then lunch at 1:30 p.m. The times could be verified with his building’s swipe card system, he said, that clocked him in and out of the building.
; Finkel had yet to ask the troopers what their questions were all about. This struck them as odd. Usually, sitting in the back of a police car, the first thing a person normally asks is why the police wanted to talk to them, Dietz thought.
Nevertheless, the man was cooperative. When Dietz told him they were inquiring about Rhonda Smith, Finkel replied without hesitation that she was a friend that he had met on the online dating site PlentyOfFish.com. They had met online around the second weekend of October and had their first in-person date the following Friday, Finkel said. They had gotten together a total of four times, three times in Hellertown and once in Philadelphia, he said. He had met her parents once and described them as nice but very religious, possibly Mennonite.
The two had last gotten together the second weekend in November, he said. He had broken off the relationship because of the distance, and she seemed to understand, said. They had talked a few times on the phone since December.
“Do you own any guns?” Dietz asked Finkel.
“No,” he responded. “I’m Jewish and don’t believe in owning guns.”
“Do you know anyone that owns a gun?” Dietz asked. “How about your father?”
Finkel laughed. No, his father didn’t own any guns, either.
“Do you have any questions?” Dietz asked.
“Yeah,” Finkel responded. “Why are you asking me about Rhonda? I date a lot of different women.”
The troopers informed Finkel of Rhonda’s death and he was appropriately surprised, they thought. He appeared visibly upset, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. Finkel gave the police permission to search his car and trunk—a search that turned up nothing suspicious—and said he would find out the exact times he swiped in and out of work that day to prove he wasn’t involved.
McGuire checked into those times himself the next day—as well as interviewing Finkel’s boss and coworker—and determined Finkel’s timeline checked out. He could not have been in Springfield Township when Rhonda was killed.
Dietz, meanwhile, learned of two other men police would have to check into from an interview with the director of a bipolar group Rhonda had recently joined in Bethlehem. Christie Shafer, who ran the group at Unity House, said two men at the facility had especially taken notice of Rhonda since she joined January 7. Eric Hanus had offered to perform Rhonda’s orientation even though he didn’t work there. Benjamin Claudio, both a group and staff member, also had shown interest in Rhonda. Both men were present during all three of Rhonda’s visits to the facility: January 7, 16, and 17, Shafer said.
The day Rhonda died, Shafer had helped Hanus move some new items into the Unity House group home where he lived, she said. Hanus received a phone call around 1:30 or 2 o’clock and became very upset and left the house. Shafer said she thought it was odd, especially after learning Rhonda died that day.
Claudio also acted strange that morning when Shafer informed the staff about Rhonda’s death, she said.
Trooper Stumpo followed up with Hanus, who said he had known Rhonda since 2001 when she lived in an apartment owned by his parents. They became friends and nearly dated, but never did. After Rhonda moved out of the apartment, in 2002, they lost touch until Hanus ran into her at McDonald’s this past fall. Rhonda began calling him sporadically, including Christmas night, and Hanus recommended both the Unity House and another bipolar support group to her.
Rhonda seemed to enjoy Unity House, he said, but being as intelligent as she was, didn’t seem to like to be around the less intelligent group members. Hanus said he had seen Rhonda talking to Ben, Unity House’s van driver, whom he didn’t like because Ben was a “ladies’ man.”
Stumpo asked Hanus where he was the day Rhonda died and Hanus hesitated. He said he believed he had lunch at Unity House, which ran from 11:45 a.m. to 12:45 p.m., but couldn’t remember what he did in the morning. Unity House had a sign-in sheet, he said.
Stumpo asked Hanus if he had a gun or if he knew if Rhonda did. Hanus said he did not but said Rhonda had told him she once went to a gun range to practice. Rhonda had told him several times over the years that she had considered killing herself.
Dietz checked out the other man, Benjamin Claudio, with Bucks County Detective Mike Mosiniak. Claudio said he had met Rhonda at Unity House and that she was friendly and kind of attractive, but not his type. He said she did not flirt with him, or anyone else at Unity House that he was aware of. As Unity House’s van driver, Claudio said he picked Rhonda up once and was scheduled to pick her up another time but she didn’t show.
Claudio didn’t have much of an alibi for the day Rhonda died. He was scheduled to work, but had called in sick because new medicine he took that day had made him groggy. The officers asked what kind of car Claudio drove—a blue Chevrolet Cavalier—and ended the interview.
Two days after their interview, Hanus called Stumpo to report he had talked to his mother last night, Rhonda’s former landlord, and Rhonda had told her that she was considering dating a married man. Hanus didn’t know the man’s name, but said his mother might and gave her telephone number to Stumpo.
Stumpo tried to follow up with Hanus’s mother, Carol, but she was sick the day he called. Her husband, Steve, said his wife had talked to him about Rhonda and how she was thinking of dating a married man but never mentioned his name. Carol Hanus had advised Rhonda against it, because she would still be alone and there was nothing to gain from such a situation, Steve Hanus said.
Steve and Carol Hanus had become close with Rhonda during the time she rented an apartment from them, and they considered her one of the family. She was a sweet kid and you couldn’t be mad at her, Steve Hanus said.
Stumpo learned more about Rhonda’s former emotionally abusive relationship from Ellen Mooney, the client services director at Turning Point of the Lehigh Valley, a domestic violence assistance organization. Rhonda had come to the group in 2005 for regular counseling about her boyfriend at that time.
The state police would learn more about him from Rhonda’s own writings. As part of her therapy, Rhonda had written about a time in March 2004 that he had sex with her without her consent. They had been at her apartment, fooling around on her bed when he penetrated her without asking and without using a condom as he usually did.
Rhonda was very upset by the experience, even more so when she found out a couple of weeks later that she was pregnant. Being on lithium for her bipolar disorder, Rhonda knew the fetus would already be damaged. She decided to have an abortion, which would trouble her greatly for the rest of her life.
In 2006, Rhonda reported the incident to police, who forwarded the case on to the Northampton County District Attorney’s Office. Police reports did not indicate why Rhonda waited two years to report the crime. Nonetheless, the office declined to prosecute on the grounds that proving it would be too difficult.
CHAPTER 8
Another State Trooper, Michael Trebendis Jr., visited the houses neighboring the church on Route 212, but the effort proved largely fruitless. Most of the residents had not been home at the time of the shooting, or hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual. One man told Trebendis an older gentleman had stopped by his house about a week earlier and was asking questions about the church. The man, who drove a sports utility vehicle with a Christian-themed license plate, claimed he built models of churches. The neighbor told Trebendis he suggested the man talk to Pastor Shreaves. He never saw the man again after that.
One woman, Diane Mair, told the trooper she had heard what sounded like gunshots some time between 8 and 10 o’clock the morning of the shooting. Mair had thought she heard a single shot, while her husband, James, who was in a separate downstairs room at the time, thought he heard two shots. Neither thought anything of it at the time, and assumed it was hunters, who occasionally roamed the woods surrounding their home. Only later, after watching the news, did they start to suspect it came from the church.
Several troopers were assigned to stop eastbound and westbound traffic on Route 212 and
ask motorists whether they had seen or heard anything unusual the day of the shooting. This, too, produced little of value. Some who were familiar with the church said they saw unfamiliar cars in the parking lot, but couldn’t describe them. One driver, who lived on Pleasant Hollow Road less than a quarter mile from the church, told Trooper Donald Marsh she had heard a man screaming and arguing with someone else about two weeks prior to the shooting. She couldn’t see anybody because it was dark, but she heard a male voice shout, “I’m going to fucking kill you!” Nothing further came of the matter in the following two weeks, but Marsh dutifully took note of the incident nevertheless.
Throughout those early days of the investigation, the police continued to hear more and more about the strange man who had visited the church during its January 20 service. Word of the stranger had even traveled outside the sphere of the church itself. During one vehicle stop outside the church, Corporal Kevin O’Brien spoke with a Deborah Scott Dawson, who served as the pastor for a different local church. She said one of the Trinity Evangelical members—a man named Bobby, she believed, who drove a bus for the Palisades School District—had told her about the strange man who seemingly came from out of nowhere to attend a service, and then was suddenly gone.
“He didn’t give me a description, but said the guy looked kind of scary,” Dawson said. “If you talk to the Trinity minister, I’m sure he’ll know who the bus driver is.”
Just five minutes later, O’Brien spoke to Pastor Shreaves at his home, a small ranch house right next to the church, on the opposite side of the parking lot that had been littered with emergency vehicles and police tape just days ago. Shreaves nodded when the trooper brought up the stranger and confirmed the bus driver Dawson spoke about—Bob Gerstenberg—was sitting in the same pew with the stranger.
“I remember the guy,” Shreaves said. “It was only one week. I spoke to him after the service. I was watching him during the service, just because he was new. He fidgeted a bit, but didn’t really have any contact with the church members. He sat by himself.”