by Liz Seccuro
It saddened me to know that his mother was ill while her son was facing these charges. I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for her to have her son taken from her, at this time and under these circumstances. My own aging parents were also having serious health issues. In the previous two years, my dad had successfully battled throat cancer and was in remission. My mom suffered from severe adult-onset hydrocephalus and was confined to a wheelchair. They would be unable to come to the sentencing, though they wanted to be at my side. I think, on some level, they still wrongfully blamed themselves for letting me go away to the University of Virginia at all. Listening to the proceedings, seeing Beebe in the flesh, might have been too much for them to bear.
Back outside the courthouse, Mike and I made brief statements to the media about the plea and what that meant in terms of justice. We tried to be upbeat. We said we were pleased with the arrangement, and looked forward to getting back to our daughter and our lives. Furthermore, the outcome gave survivors a real story to believe in. There can be vindication; there can be some sense of justice. Because I spoke out in 1984, and because years later I didn’t just accept an apology, this was a victory for all survivors, not just for me. We thanked everyone who had helped us on the long road. Beebe also made a statement on the steps of the courthouse, talking about how he hoped his pleading to a lesser offense would bring some sense of closure to me and my family. It was the first time he spoke publicly about the case.
Mike and I returned home, spent. But there was more to come—the larger investigation was gaining steam. There was some hope that another grand jury would be called. Although it was doubtful that either of the other two suspects would ever come forward and confess, the police did have new information provided by Beebe’s investigator, and they were re-interviewing all of the witnesses.
When I had first heard of Messner’s comment about the possible loss of his home, I had jumped up and down. Wasn’t that sort of an admission of guilt? Or was it merely a statement that he would have to spend enormous resources defending himself? Messner had refused to answer questions at the original grand jury. Now, he said nothing more. He kept the same Charlottesville-based attorney and stuck to his story that he had never met me; he had been a virgin until the day he married his wife. This latter part I find laughable—and yet, if taken as a half truth, it could actually explain how he might have gotten involved in the crime. Virgin second years were hard to find in fraternities, and it would not have surprised me if someone had challenged his manhood, spurring him to the deeds he allegedly committed against me that night. My thoughts and heart went out to his wife and children, something I did not have to consider with Beebe. They had done nothing and I could not bear the thought of these poor family members ostracized in the community because of something terrible their father and husband would not confess to or even testify about.
Meanwhile, Burgos was in an undisclosed location. His RV remained parked on the grounds of Tuck Hammett’s home in the Charlottesville area, and although we all felt that Hammett had more to say, he receded into the background of the investigation.
The web became more and more entangled as my anxiety level kept creeping up. As time passed, it became clear that another grand jury would not be convened. Beebe had not been as helpful as we had hoped, and we couldn’t get any more out of him. From a financial perspective, with my legal team limited by the city budget, it didn’t seem to make sense to convene a grand jury without the hard evidence that would guarantee further criminal indictments. We all knew there was much more to the story, but perhaps we would have to be satisfied with only one assailant being charged and eventually serving some time. The system is not perfect, but it is what we have, and I did not want to spend the rest of my life chasing down the broken pieces of the puzzle. Although I wanted and deserved the truth, and wanted justice served, in some ways perhaps I was better off not knowing everything that had transpired that night. In the end, I felt grateful that I didn’t remember every heartbreaking detail.
Celebrating the Christmas holiday that year, I was far more engaged in life. I found myself thinking less and less about the case and more about the fact that I should be proud to have opened my mouth and said something. With all of the sensationalism swirling about, it came down to one fact: I stood up for what was right. As the mother of a little girl, that was the best gift I could ever have given her.
CHAPTER 12 The Sentencing of William Beebe
The sentencing of a criminal is certainly the end of a long journey for victims, but it can also be a painful last step as the defense team jockeys for the lightest possible sentence for their client, regardless of the agreed-upon plea deal. A judge can overturn that deal if he or she finds cause, and the defense attorney’s main goal is to minimize his or her client’s exposure to prison. Character witnesses are brought forth to trumpet the defendant’s good qualities and point to all of the admirable things the perpetrator has done. Beebe’s sentencing was to be no different. Quagliana wanted to submit videotapes of Beebe’s ill mother, and scores of letters from Beebe’s friends and parade a veritable who’s who of the Richmond AA community before the court on March 15. But this would also be my chance to talk about the lasting impact his assault had had on me—the impact that couldn’t be erased by apologies or later good deeds. We were talking about the night in question. My victim impact statement, which I had been required to submit to the court ten days prior to sentencing, was the document in which I got to tell my story in my own words, not twisted by cross-examinations. I would be allowed to read my statement to the court and be heard.
MARCH 15, 2007
THE COURT: Okay, this is Commonwealth versus William Beebe. We’re here for sentencing. I’ve been delivered a set of guidelines with a pre-sentence report. Mr. Worrell, is the Commonwealth going to be offering those at this time?
THE COURT: I’ve only seen the one, so—which has the offender’s version in it, so can we go ahead and admit those at this point?
RHONDA QUAGLIANA: Yes, Your Honor, thank you.
THE COURT: All right.
CLAUDE WORRELL: There’s also—the Court has received the victim impact statement and we’d ask the Court to receive that also.
THE COURT: All right, let’s see. When was the victim impact statement?
WORRELL: You should have received that maybe three or four days ago, Judge.
THE COURT: Yeah, I don’t see that. It may be in the file somewhere.
I gasped as I realized that the document I had worked on for a month, attempting to be as balanced and clear as possible, to make the court and Beebe understand what the impact had been on my family, had not even been reviewed by Judge Hogshire.
WORRELL: Judge, it’s pretty long and it’s pretty detailed. You might want to take ten—fifteen minutes to read it. It’s not short.
THE COURT: Why don’t we get started and then—and then, if I need to take some time, I’ll—I’ll be sure I’ve covered it, but why don’t we get the hearing started and I’ll be sure I’ll—I would have finished this before we conclude the case and I may take a recess in order to do that—
WORRELL: Okay.
I could tell Worrell shared my frustration as it had been his job to make certain I submitted the statement in the time allowed for proper review.
A man named Jeffrey Lenert was called to testify. He was a probation officer for the Virginia Department of Corrections, and he had prepared the pre-sentencing report on Beebe. Worrell asked whether Beebe had complied with his reporting requirements thus far and asked where he would live upon release. Lenert admitted that he did not know—the rules for reporting and even Beebe’s length of sentence seemed to differ, depending on whom he spoke to within the department. When he called the secretary of the Virginia Parole Board—a separate entity—she had estimated that Beebe could be released in six months. This testimony caused much rumbling in the courtroom, but Lenert wasn’t finished. The parole board secretary had later called him back: she ha
d been mistaken, and he would have to direct his inquiry to another person in his own department. But that other person was unable to give any sort of estimate regarding the length of Beebe’s incarceration. Although Lenert kept phoning to get an answer, no one returned his call, and thus there was no information about the true length of Beebe’s sentence currently available for him to submit to the court.
This all sounded like a bureaucratic nightmare, and left both the gallery and the judge thoroughly confused.
After a few more questions from both Quagliana and Worrell—confirming, for example, that Beebe would have to register in Virginia as a sex offender—the judge determined that very little could really be learned regarding probation or parole, and moved on. He also promised to take a recess shortly to review my victim impact statement.
For now, Quagliana took the floor.
QUAGLIANA: If I may, the Commonwealth has agreed that I may proffer certain information for the Court’s consideration at sentencing. To begin with, I would proffer that Mr. Beebe has been cooperative with authorities. Detective Rudman is in the courtroom. Detective Rudman would tell the Court that Mr. Beebe voluntarily gave a statement to him and was cooperative with him. Following an interview that Detective Rudman did with Mr. Beebe, Mr. Beebe was arrested in Las Vegas. He was arrested on January 4th of 2006, and he was held in the Clark County Jail for six days. He was released by a Nevada judge. The condition of his release in Nevada was that he returns to that Court. There was no condition placed upon him that he come to Virginia; nonetheless, he came to Virginia voluntarily. He got on a plane and came here on the 15th to face his charges. On the 17th, he turned himself in and he was released on bond. He has had meetings with Mr. Worrell and Detective Rudman and another detective from the Charlottesville Police Department. He shared information with them.
THE COURT: Do you want to go ahead and—you have some witnesses you want to put on?
QUAGLIANA: I do, Your Honor.
Quagliana called the first character witness, a young woman named Marcie. She told the court that she had known Beebe since 1994, when she was thirteen years old and an addict. At that time in her life, she bathed once every three months, shampooed her hair only twice a year, and had embezzled $24,000 from one of her employers. When she found sobriety and William Beebe in Alcoholics Anonymous, she turned her life around. He would help her get to meetings, take her to the Laundromat, and basically make sure her life was on the straight and narrow. She stated that he had never told her about what he had done at the University of Virginia. She herself had never been prosecuted for the embezzlement. Instead, at Beebe’s suggestion, she tried to make amends by anonymously donating $24,000 to a charity.
The next witness called was an older woman named Kristi, who had lived in Richmond for fifty years and worked at Offender Restoration. In her job she visited prisons and helped inmates who struggled with addiction and sobriety. She had met Beebe in 1994, when he began volunteering at Pamunkey Regional Jail. She said he was very active in helping prisoners transition to a life of sobriety. When asked, she also said Beebe had never mentioned the incident at the University of Virginia in 1984.
A gentleman named William G. was next. He was a full-time stay-at-home father in Richmond who had met Beebe at an AA meeting eleven years before. He had struggled with sobriety, and credited Beebe with saving his life. He also testified that when his child developed a life-threatening disease, Beebe took classes on how to help care for the child’s medical needs, learning CPR and how to intubate the child. But he also allowed that Beebe’s current sobriety did not excuse his past behavior.
All of these character witnesses made a powerful impression. They sat together on the side of the defense, occasionally smiling and nodding at Beebe, who sat at the defense table. Clearly, he had a tight-knit community in recovery.
Finally, Quagliana called Alex Downing, the man with whom Beebe had been living since leaving custody in Charlottesville in January 2006. He seemed to be the person closest to Beebe, and Mike and I were very curious to hear his testimony.
DIRECT EXAMINATION BY RHONDA QUAGLIANA
QUAGLIANA: Mr. Downing, will you tell the Court your full name, please?
ALEX DOWNING: My full name is Joseph Frederick Alexander Downing, III.
QUAGLIANA: Where do you live?
DOWNING: I live in Richmond, Virginia.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. Are you married?
DOWNING: Yes.
QUAGLIANA: What’s your wife’s name?
DOWNING: Valerie.
QUAGLIANA: Do you have any children?
DOWNING: I have a step-son who’s sixteen.
QUAGLIANA: How are you employed?
DOWNING: I’m employed by a publisher.
QUAGLIANA: How long have you been employed by them?
DOWNING: A little over fourteen years.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. Do you know Mr. Beebe?
DOWNING: I do.
QUAGLIANA: Okay, and how do you know him?
DOWNING: Originally, when we met he was friends with my wife for it could have been a year or two before I met him, perhaps, probably shorter than that—through my wife.
QUAGLIANA: Okay, and has he been staying with you while he’s been released on bond?
DOWNING: Yes, ma’am. Other—
QUAGLIANA: At your home in Richmond?
DOWNING: Yes, ma’am.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. What kind of person is he?
DOWNING: I know Will to be very caring, very trustworthy, interested in others. He likes animals. I’ve got eight cats, so that’s important to me.
QUAGLIANA: Okay, and that’s including over a period of time when—let’s say, you’ve had a full house. You have somebody who is not a member of your family living with you for a little over a year, correct?
DOWNING: Correct.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. Has he provided help and support to you and your wife in the past?
DOWNING: Yes, I mean, it—we do that a lot for each other. That could be from I have to drop my car off because it’s getting worked on to I need a ride to somewhere across town to, you know, my wife had to leave. Her grandfather is pretty much on his death bed in Texas and she couldn’t be here today and I didn’t have cash for a cab at four A.M. to get to the airport and, I mean, it’s just whatever I needed, Will was there.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. How would you describe the level of Mr. Beebe’s commitment to staying sober?
DOWNING: If there’s a percentage higher than a hundred, that’s what I would call it, and I know that he knows, like I do, that that’s what has to be done in order to stay there.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. Have you ever observed him do or say anything that caused you to question in any way his commitment to his sobriety?
DOWNING: Absolutely not.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. Is it just the opposite?
DOWNING: Yes.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. While he was in your home over the past, I guess it’s been about fourteen months, is that—does that sound right?
DOWNING: I think it was close to a year before he was allowed—almost a whole year before he was allowed to go to take care of his mother in Florida.
QUAGLIANA: Okay. Did he abide by all of the conditions of his bond?
DOWNING: Absolutely.
QUAGLIANA: Okay, and let me pull you back just for a second. How important is Will’s help to other people in maintaining his own sobriety and his outlook on life?
DOWNING: It’s absolutely critical. There is no other way to describe it.
QUAGLIANA: Thank you. Those are my questions.
THE COURT: Questions, Mr. Worrell?
WORRELL: Yes, sir.
CROSS-EXAMINATION BY CLAUDE WORRELL
CLAUDE WORRELL: Mr. Downing, Mr. Beebe lived with you up until the time he went to Florida, is that right?
DOWNING: Yes, sir.
WORRELL: Had he lived with you previous to that?
DOWNING: No.
WORRELL: You would describe yourself as being Mr. Bee
be’s friend, is that right?
DOWNING: Correct.
WORRELL: You’ve been friends for how long?
DOWNING: I would say approximately twelve years. I don’t remember the actual first meeting, but it would be a good ballpark.
WORRELL: During that twelve-year time period, Mr. Beebe had been sober, is that right?
DOWNING: Correct.
WORRELL: You said you met him through your wife?
DOWNING: Yes, sir.
WORRELL: In the course of your wife’s meeting Mr. Beebe—well, let me ask you this. How did she meet Mr. Beebe?
DOWNING: To be honest with you, I’m not sure. Probably from a fellowship group to which we all belong.
WORRELL: Is that a church fellowship or some other kind of fellowship?
DOWNING: No, sir, it’s a spiritual fellowship.
It was weird that none of these witnesses wanted to call Alcoholics Anonymous by its name. Claude’s impatience showed.
WORRELL: What’s that?
DOWNING: We practice spiritual principles and try to serve others. I mean, can you be more specific?
WORRELL: Well, can you be more specific? What kind of group is this?
DOWNING: I can.
WORRELL: Is it called anything? Is it—
DOWNING: It is. It’s called Alcoholics Anonymous.
WORRELL: Okay, and in that group, are you also a participant in that group?
DOWNING: Yes, sir.
WORRELL: AA has as a part of its core some principles and steps that one must get into and deal with in order to be or successfully go through the program, I suppose. It’s got steps involved, is that right?
DOWNING: Yes, sir.
WORRELL: Is there also something called The Big Book that’s also involved in the AA program?