Because You Loved Me

by M. William Phelps

  Ultimately, Nicole broke down and told detectives all she knew. She even went on to describe how cold and vile Billy seemed after he stabbed Jeanne, saying, “Well, he told me that they were just talking for a while and then he ended up—she ended up, like, getting him really angry. So he…he said that’s why…that’s what got him to finally do it. He said that while they were struggling, he tried to stab her in the head and that the knife broke. And then he said something about her being ‘thickheaded.’”

  By the time Nicole left the Nashua Police Department later that morning, en route to a county jail in Manchester, she was fully prepared to face off against the man to whom she had pledged her undying devotion. It was Nicole’s story against Billy’s now. One lover turning on the other. Nicole was tired, emotionally distraught. Billy was talking about the murder, she was told. If she had any chance of seeing the light of day again as a free woman, she knew turning on Billy was her only hope.

  Yet, Billy, himself in jail waiting to be arraigned on first-degree murder charges, had a plan of his own—one that involved a soon-to-be new girlfriend on the outside.

  PART III

  JUSTICE FOR JEANNE

  CHAPTER 55

  As Nicole and Billy were processed through the justice system, Billy couldn’t help but disrupt the progress of his defense. For one, Billy was having a tough time dealing with his court-appointed attorneys, James Quay and Julie Nye. Since pleading not guilty in October 2003, he was being held without bail. Nye and Quay tried to build the best defense they could on Billy’s behalf. That work, however, depended on Billy’s input and his absolute honesty of the crimes he was accused of committing. Yet, Billy wasn’t all that interested in helping. And it became nearly impossible for Quay and Nye to extract even basic information from him.

  On October 23, 2003, a grand jury indicted Billy on charges of conspiracy to commit murder. In a detailed indictment of the crimes that Billy and, as the indictment read, “N.K.” (because Nicole was a juvenile) allegedly committed, Senior Assistant AG Michael “Mike” A. Delaney bulleted thirty-one items. Each explained how Nicole and Billy went about planning and carrying out Jeanne’s murder. It was a sobering moment for Nicole, who sat in jail dissecting where her short life had slipped off-center. No one from Jeanne’s family had visited Nicole. Many had written her off completely. Many believed she should have known better. Why didn’t she stop her mother’s murder?

  Most were appalled by the idea that such a seemingly quiet, lovable child could be involved in such a violent act against a mother she had obviously loved at one time. It wasn’t the Nicole everyone knew.

  What happened?

  From November 2003 to April 2004, the rift between Billy and his lawyers spiraled out of control. During that time, Billy wrote several letters—one of the only vices he had at his disposal—to his lawyers and Marshall Buttrick, the chief court clerk at Hillsborough County Court in downtown Nashua, where the proceedings against Nicole and Billy were being processed. In one letter, addressed to James Quay, Billy agreed with Quay’s assertion that his recent “decision to seek new representation [was] not based on facts,” but “[Billy’s own] opinions.”

  One incident Billy was especially troubled over had taken place on a Friday night when Quay and Nye sat with Billy and discussed his case. According to Billy, Quay was frustrated by Billy’s lack of input. At one point, Billy claimed Quay shouted, “Grow up and be a man.”

  In his letter, Billy said he “didn’t appreciate [the] comment….” He believed Quay, by striking out at him, had shown his “true colors.” At the same time, Billy apologized for “anything I may have said out of line,” but said he couldn’t back down from his “opinions or feelings.”

  Billy Sullivan was—in a similar manner he had manifested throughout his life—trying to run the show; he was determined to micromanage his own defense and his lawyers refused to allow it, which caused great friction among them.

  Regardless of the reasoning behind his decision, Billy said he could not “work with” Quay or Nye “any longer.” He felt—like most defendants do about court-appointed lawyers—both attorneys were “too busy” for him.

  Quay and Nye were consummate professionals. They valued their clients’ opinions. The main conflict, they suggested later, was rooted in Billy’s “mental illness he’s battled for most of his life.” Billy couldn’t control himself. Or his outbursts. He had sudden spasms of anger. Nye and Quay certainly understood it, but they didn’t have to put up with it.

  In a letter Billy sent to court clerk Marshall Buttrick, he spoke of his desire to find new court-appointed counsel. Through the letter, however, Billy displayed how sane he was—which was to become the number one issue facing the attorney general as pretrial hearings got under way.

  “I do not feel comfortable being represented by James Quay and Julie Nye,” Billy wrote to the court. It was “especially” important, he noted, “since I am facing Life in Prison [Billy’s capitalization] without the possibility of Parole.”

  Apparently, Billy comprehended clearly the charges he was up against and understood the law. Without a doubt, he knew the role his attorneys played in his defense. For a man arguing insanity, it appeared he knew the possible outcome of the charges. If nothing else, Billy Sullivan showed how adept and informed he was regarding the legal system. Apparently, he could make decisions and write clear, legible arguments, not to mention express his rights and make clear what he wanted from his attorneys.

  Was this the action of an insane man?

  CHAPTER 56

  As the cliché defines, a defendant who represents himself has a fool for a client. On April 7, 2004, that old saying was never more cogent to the group of lawyers involved in Billy Sullivan’s case as he was afforded his day in court regarding his unhappiness over having been forced to accept court-appointed counsel. By the time court concluded, Billy said he wanted to fire—his words—both of his attorneys and represent himself.

  Maybe he was mentally challenged?

  Billy suggested Quay and Nye were “against [me] as much as the state was…. It’s just basically the trust,” Billy told the judge, “being able to work with people. I don’t really know how to say it, honestly.”

  “I’m going to deny your request,” the judge smartly said. “You have completely competent lawyers, Mr. Sullivan.”

  After court, AG Michael Delaney, who had spear-headed the case against Billy from the moment Jeanne’s body was discovered, told reporters, “What the law in New Hampshire says is an indigent defendant is entitled to competent counsel, but not counsel of their choosing. That was the law discussed today and ultimately the basis for the ruling entered.”

  Delaney displayed polish and experience. He had an outward charm that was evident in the way he handled himself against the backdrop of the mahogany courtroom he worked his magic in. With Delaney, the state of New Hampshire and Jeanne Dominico were adequately represented.

  After four years on the job as AG, Delaney got a call to be second in command, deputy attorney general—a job he obviously couldn’t say no to. With Delaney out, the new assistant attorney general assigned to take on Billy Sullivan and Nicole Kasinskas was Will Delker, a youngish-looking, college professor type, who had actually been called to the Nashua Police Department on the night of the murder along with Delaney. Delker had knowledge of the crimes and was fully capable of leading the state’s fight for justice. While at American University, Washington College of Law, Delker ranked second among a student body of 383; he had been with the AG’s office since July 1, 1998, appointed senior assistant in December 2000. Many of his colleagues said Delker maintained that perfect combination of trial attorney and supervising attorney, and could certainly see the cases Delaney had initiated against Billy and Nicole through. Having supervised twenty-two attorneys, eight investigators and an additional seven support staff for the Criminal Justice Bureau of the AG’s office, Delker was well aware of the responsibility he had taken on when Delaney left.
With a firm base of the law, many thought the young lawyer was a lock to convict both Billy and Nicole. The only major hurdle early on was that he had several other cases to contend with on the day Delaney walked into his office and dropped Billy and Nicole’s cases in his lap.

  “I was dealing with two separate cases,” Delker explained later, “both involving double homicides…first-degree murder—and had too much on my plate with those cases and other homicides.”

  Yet, when Billy began a crusade to represent himself, thus raising serious issues of his competency to stand trial, the delay he caused in his trial actually gave the AG a chance to conclude his other cases and thus put his full attention toward New Hampshire’s most high-profile murder case in quite some time.

  Apart from the media exposure building each day, coupled with Billy’s utter determination to muddle with the many legal challenges ahead, both cases demanded an additional prosecutor—another attorney with possibly the same experience and drive Delker had displayed already, spending long nights and even longer days preparing. The question became, however, who was it going to be?

  CHAPTER 57

  If only Billy could have kept his trap shut, he might have had a chance to argue his case with some validity. But he couldn’t, of course. Thus, as the daffodils and tulips poked their pointed hats out of the ground during spring 2004, Billy became his own worst enemy. The urge to engage in some sort of relationship with the opposite sex and use that affair as a means to further his agenda completely superseded any rational thought of the potential consequences. Possibly so, the man simply couldn’t help himself. Nor could he grasp confinement or the legal system: other people telling him what to do and when to do it. Billy needed desperately to interact with the outside world. And it mattered little—or he was just too damned ignorant and narcissistic to see it for himself—that this unknown weakness, this uncontainable longing to control and manipulate people, was to catch up with him sooner or later and reveal his true nature.

  Since Billy and Nicole had been arrested, they’d had no contact. As far as Billy saw it, Nicole had sold him out when she dropped a dime. Word was Nicole had been talking about a deal with the AG’s office to save herself life behind bars, which was going to ultimately involve her testifying against Billy.

  Something Billy couldn’t let happen.

  Framing his next move, when Billy heard of Nicole’s willingness to turn on him, it just so happened that a new puppet fell into his lap.

  Tina Bell was a fashionable, perfectly shaped fifteen-year-old girl with womanly features. She lived with her parents in Manchester. Tina admitted later she didn’t have a great relationship with her mom and dad and had “never really gotten along” with them.

  “My parents and I just never clicked. I had a pretty rough upbringing. I had both of my parents at home, but it was a pretty rough time.”

  For that reason, or the fact that school wasn’t stimulating her any longer, Tina spent much of her free time at her friend Danielle’s house. Danielle was a bit older. She was out of school. Although Tina and Danielle fought at times, Tina said Danielle was her “rock,” the one person she could trust without question.

  As it happened, Danielle was dating a guy who had been in the county clinker for a time. He called Danielle’s apartment every chance he had. Sometimes Danielle was at work and Tina took the call. She liked the guy—not in a romantic way—but wanted to be there for him when Danielle couldn’t be.

  “Friends do that; they help each other.”

  Tina was happy to do it.

  “I’m tired of this cellie of mine talking to me,” the man told Tina one night as they chitchatted. “He goes on and on. I’m getting bored with it all.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Can you talk to him? I kinda feel bad for the guy. He’s got no one to talk to.”

  Billy was in jail awaiting trial, driving his cellmate crazy with stories of his life. The guy, sick of it all, had told Billy about Tina. She’d be a great sounding board. And a great way to get Billy off his back.

  Tina was at a point in her life when she needed someone to step in and, as she put it, “treat her with respect.” Not judge her. Not question the way she dressed, whom she spoke to, or why she chose to pierce different parts of her face. The guy she had just separated from was “very abusive,” she claimed.

  “He used to beat me.”

  She felt confined, afraid to go out with anyone for fear of the unknown.

  Billy was being held at Hillsborough County Jail, on Valley Street in Manchester, just down the way from where Tina now lived with Danielle. He was awaiting pretrial hearings. Confined, with little chance of bail, Tina viewed him as harmless: a man behind bars she could talk to, but wouldn’t have to get involved with. Save for Billy’s aunt, who lived in Rhode Island, he wasn’t entertaining many visitors. His mother, Pat, showed up when she could, but wasn’t regular. Billy’s cellie, Danielle’s boyfriend, felt sorry for him.

  As for Tina, Billy was perfect. He was locked up. He couldn’t hurt her.

  Or so she thought.

  “He was somebody I could talk to and not have to worry about in a threatening way,” recalled Tina. She had no idea then why Billy was in prison.

  “OK,” Tina told Danielle’s boyfriend during the call, “tell him to write to me.”

  Tina wrote down Billy’s name on a piece of paper and forgot about him.

  That night, Danielle’s boyfriend explained to Billy he had spoken to Tina. He told Billy what she looked like. Tina was a knockout. Boys—men, actually—lined up to date her.

  “Write to her,” he suggested, handing Tina’s address and telephone number to Billy.

  “Thanks, man.” Billy held it out in front of himself like a winning lottery check. “I’ll write her a letter right now.”

  A lifeline to the outside world. It was something Billy had missed since being locked up. Here was a chance to connect with freedom.

  A few days later, Tina received a letter from Billy. Initially Billy kept his letters simple, introducing himself and focusing on Tina’s likes and dislikes. He knew the game, and understood how to work his way into a vulnerable girl’s heart.

  “He asked me normal stuff, like what I like to do,” Tina said later.

  Tina responded to Billy’s first letter by answering his questions as best she could. She felt bad for Billy and the predicament he faced. As far as she knew, as the weeks went by and they grew closer and more intimate through letters and telephone calls, Billy said he was being wrongly accused of a crime he didn’t commit. Tina felt for him. She was sure the justice system had not only railroaded Billy, but in the end was going to let him down.

  More than that, Tina honestly believed then—and later, despite what Billy had done to her—that he never had a chance in life because of the way he was brought up. Billy talked candidly about his upbringing. He wrote page after page (some letters fifteen to twenty pages long) about his life. It bothered him immensely, for example, that his father had not been an influential part of raising him. Here he was now in jail facing murder charges. He greatly needed a male role model to shake some sense into him. If there had ever been a time in his life when he needed a dad most, Billy explained to Tina, it was now.

  “He didn’t know where his father was,” recalled Tina. “And that bothered him. He told me that his mother was an alcoholic.”

  Tina sat on her bed and read Billy’s letters for hours at a time. It was as though Billy had known her all her life. The things he said made Tina melt: she believed someone truly understood her for the first time.

  “He was strong on his opinions of alcohol and drugs. He was very against it. Usually, someone that is nineteen years old doesn’t have a problem with someone their own age having a beer or something. Just having fun. Experimenting, you know. But Billy did. Whenever I would write about anything like that, he would set me straight.”

  His strong personality became one reason—among a growing
list—why Tina respected Billy. He seemed more in touch with how he felt than any of the guys she had dated. If one can believe it, Tina saw Billy as more balanced than the others. A gentleman. Smart. A thinker. He wasn’t chasing a rebellious opinion about life like some mixed-up kid. Billy was straightforward, direct and—Tina was thoroughly convinced—honest to the core.

  While Tina admired Billy for his strong opinions, as she got to know him better, it seemed odd to her when he went off on tangents in his letters, discussing personal issues. She thought it was noble of Billy to care so much about the lives alcohol and drugs had destroyed, and, based on the conversations they had and the letters he wrote, she believed that his childhood had set the stage for how he turned out. She even felt Billy was desperately trying to right a wrong. That much was obvious, so she wanted to learn more about him.

  “It really hurt him growing up and seeing that…and he was trying to do better than what his parents had done to him.”

  Billy was, of course, relieved he had finally found a release—someone he could unleash his inventory on, albeit an inventory he was partly making up as he went along.

  Within weeks, Tina got a letter every few days, which she began to take comfort in. When she expressed how much she enjoyed hearing from him, Billy turned it up and wrote every day. And by the time the first month of their correspondence passed, Tina was reading five-, ten-and twenty-page letters every day there was mail. It became a part-time job just keeping up with them.

  The focus wasn’t always on Billy, Tina was quick to point out. He spent a considerable amount of time asking Tina about her life. At the time, she believed he cared deeply about her beliefs, thoughts and goals.

  But the letters and telephone calls soon grew cold for Billy. He wanted a face to go along with the emotional connection they had made. It meant a lot to him. Here he and Tina were dishing all of their personal and family secrets and they had never met in person or even seen what each other looked like. Although she felt a bit uneasy about going in just yet to visit him, not to mention the jail allowed only family members, Tina sent Billy a photograph. With Tina’s long locks of auburn (almost red) hair, large Bette Davis eyes and round baby face, she personified the innocence Billy had perhaps been so attracted to in Nicole. They looked nothing alike, but in many ways were identical.