Because You Loved Me

by M. William Phelps

  Once word came in that the jury had reached its verdict, the court promised it would give everyone thirty minutes to make it back into the courtroom. Now Chris, walking toward the double doors, found out he had but ten minutes to call everyone he could, break the news and grab a seat himself.

  Chris sat next to Jennifer Hunt, the victim’s advocate, on his left. Jeanne’s brother, Chuck Dominico, sat on Chris’s right.

  “I remember just reaching out and grabbing them both—one with my right hand, the other with my left,” recalled Chris. Clearly, he was nervous. No one knew what to expect. Juries were a strange bunch. One hold-out and Billy had himself a free pass into a mental hospital. “I had no idea where the verdict was going,” admitted Chris.

  Jenn made it to the courthouse with little time to spare and took a seat in back of Chris. As she sat down, there was a minor delay. Billy’s attorneys hadn’t made it yet and Billy refused to be present for the verdict. As long as Billy was still “the accused,” the judge agreed, he had a right not to attend his trial.

  After Billy’s attorneys arrived a bit later, the jury foreperson stood and pronounced Billy guilty of first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder. What else could he expect? He had admitted murdering Jeanne and every witness presented by the state had, in a sense, backed up Billy’s own words. In addition, any claim of insanity was nullified by Billy’s behavior before and after the murder. An insane person, by definition, would not have been able to do what Billy did. In terms of the law, and the jury’s interpretation of insanity, it could not have been more simple.

  Chris McGowan jumped up and hugged the people he was sitting next to. Then he smiled for what seemed like the first time in two years. The legal part of his journey was complete. The healing was to begin.

  Or would it?

  Once Billy was a convicted murderer, the judge demanded he be present for his sentencing. Billy had very few rights left now. Will Delker argued that Jeanne’s friends and family deserved a chance to address him. His days of raising his hand for a time-out, or simply walking out of the courtroom on his own, were over.

  To everyone’s amazement, court officers carried Billy into the courtroom in shackles after he refused to be present for sentencing.

  “He was bound and hog-tied,” one woman claimed. Quite noticeably, Billy’s eyes were glazed over. Tears ran down his cheeks. But it wasn’t from a crying fit at the thought of life in prison. Some in the courtroom later reported that “court officers had to pepper-spray Billy” in order to get him under control so he could face the judge.

  “Billy refused to attend and the judge forced him to be there,” recalled one of the lawyers in the courtroom that day. “It was quite dramatic…. I know he was restrained (I don’t think he was literally hog-tied). I don’t [remember] anything about [him being] pepper-sprayed.”

  Nonetheless, Billy Sullivan was forced to sit and listen to Judge Hicks’s sentence, whether he wanted to or not.

  CHAPTER 84

  Every one of Jeanne Dominico’s friends agreed she had a subtle radiance about her, making it impossible not to feel the love that emanated from every part of her being. Each person who later voiced his or her opinion of Jeanne said there wasn’t—and never will be—another human being like her. Two years prior to Billy’s conviction, when Reverend Harry Kaufman, who oversaw Jeanne’s funeral, looked out at an audience of tearful mourners, he had said, “It’s hard to imagine she will no longer be with us to share her love. But she will be remembered for her great love of life.”

  “She was an angel here on earth,” Jenn Veilleux told reporters during that desolate period, “and without question, she’ll be one in heaven.”

  With the verdict finally in, the judge allowed a few of Jeanne’s closest friends and family to address Billy Sullivan directly, which was what Billy had perhaps feared most as he literally fought not to be present. For some, it was time to look Billy in the eye and let him know how deeply the impact of his crime had been felt.

  “‘I appear before the court on behalf of myself, to represent my fiancée, Jeanne Marie Dominico,’” said Chris McGowan, his voice cracking with each word. “‘More than anything else, however, I do this to honor her. Because if the roles were reversed, Jeanne would be standing here today.’”

  Chris took a moment to wipe his brow, collect himself.

  “‘Seven hundred and nine days ago,’” he continued, “‘Jeanne was admittedly murdered by you, Billy Sullivan…. Jeanne was a loving, caring and giving woman with a heart as big as the world. She was a friend to everyone she met, including you, Billy Sullivan. She would give you the last dollar in her wallet, the shirt off her back or a place to stay if needed. She was intelligent. Reliable. Sensitive to others’ needs. She was compassionate. Caring. And nonjudgmental. She cared about people, all people, especially children! She looked for the good in everyone she met. Jeanne and I both were looking forward to sharing our future together. We were looking forward to watching her two children grow to be young adults, even as difficult a task as it appeared to be at times.’”

  Chris was, of course, still crushed by Jeanne’s death. A guilty verdict hadn’t made life any easier. Standing in the courtroom facing her killer, however, was something he looked forward to doing. But no sooner had he started, did he break down into quiet sobs while staring at the words on the page in front of him that he had spent a week or more composing.

  Billy stood, not really listening, smiling coyly like a devil on a little boy’s shoulder, while shaking his head in disgust. Billy and Chris had never had any serious issues between them. While Billy and Nicole dated, Billy and Chris had always been quite cordial to each other and did a few things together during that week Billy spent in Nashua. Chris had even helped Billy work on his car. But now they were bitter enemies. The hate Chris had for Billy was evident in the tone of his voice, his body movements and the aura emanating from him. Billy had taken away from Chris the only woman he had ever truly loved. The one person who had made his life better. As Chris saw it, he had been choking on loss. He could never love again. For that, he would hate—yes, hate, forgiveness was not an option Chris said he could ever entertain—Billy and Nicole for what they had done.

  As Chris continued with his impact statement, Billy lashed out at him.

  “Fuck you,” Billy shouted as his lawyers tried to contain him. “Fuck you, Chris!”

  “‘When you, Billy Sullivan,’” continued Chris, undeterred by Billy’s obvious need for attention, “‘took her life, my life and that of her family and so many others were shattered…. You deserve to be miserable for the rest of your life. You deserve no forgiveness, Billy Sullivan, and I hope that you live a very long, miserable life. Words seem trite in describing what follows when the most loved person in my life is murdered, stripped from my life. I can, however, give you some idea of what I went through….’”

  Chris then described the moment he entered the house and found Jeanne. It was as if the memory had been etched on a blackboard and Chris was staring at it, describing what he had seen. It was almost, he said, as if it had all happened to someone else. He had been there, sure. He had seen Jeanne. But it was not his life.

  “‘What kind of person—or animal—could possibly do this?’” asked Chris, speaking of how Jeanne had been left on the floor to die. Then came the guilt: “‘I will always ask myself why I had taken so long gathering my belongings to go over to Jeanne’s home that evening. If I had been there sooner’”—he had to stop for a moment—“‘I certainly would have been able to prevent this from happening.’”

  Touching more on Billy’s future, Chris added, “‘You will never know what it is like to love, or to be loved, by anybody, ever again. I sincerely hope you never laugh or express joy in doing anything that you ever do for the rest of your life…. You deserve no forgiveness, Billy Sullivan, and…thereafter may you rot in hell for eternity for what you have done.’”

  Billy’s mother, sisters and aunt sat in
the back of the courtroom. Their lives had been shattered, too. As Billy’s fate was being given to him in increments in the front of the room, all they could do was sit, weep and wonder how it had all come to this.

  Billy and his attorneys had made the decision that Billy wasn’t going to make a statement. And after Jeanne’s brother Chuck spoke and Jennifer Hunt read a few brief words written by other members of Jeanne’s immediate family, Judge Hicks announced that Billy “deserved the mandatory sentence of life in prison without the chance of parole,” before adding an additional, “consecutive, maximum sentence of fifteen to thirty years for the conspiracy charge…. Mr. Sullivan,” a stern-sounding Judge Hicks intoned, “this was an act of consummate savagery. As you were brutally destroying the life of Jeanne Dominico, you were also destroying your own life.”

  Sitting, watching the proceedings, Jenn Veilleux felt somewhat vindicated, having sat through the entire trial. None of it seemed real to Jenn until after, she said, Billy was found guilty. Before that, the entire ordeal—from the day they found Jeanne’s body, to the hearings and trial testimony, to the verdict—felt to her as if she were “going through the motions” of someone else’s life. When those words rang out that Billy was a convicted murderer, and Jeanne his victim, Jenn suddenly experienced a pang of emotion that authenticated her friend’s death, making it real for the first time. As long as there was a hearing or day of testimony to sit through, Jenn felt, Jeanne’s life was on pause. But now someone was legally responsible for taking that life. The verdict, in effect, convinced Jenn it must have happened.

  As for Billy, hallway gossip throughout the trial was, Jenn said, “that he was crazy…. Billy was this, Billy was that. I sat there every day and got all of my questions answered…. You see, Jeannie was poor, but she had class. She never had money, but she was regal. She just had that majestic presence about her, no matter what.”

  Jenn remembered a day when Jeanne had called and explained how she thought she didn’t have enough oil in her tank to make it through the night. Nor any money to fill it. Jeanne was never one to ask for monetary help.

  “Can I bring the kids over if we lose heat?” Jeanne asked when she called and explained the situation.

  “Of course, Jeannie.”

  “The thing was, even though she was running out of oil,” recalled Jenn, “she did not complain. It didn’t matter to her that she had no money and no oil.”

  Whereas someone else might carp over never having enough money while working three jobs, Jeanne never viewed her life in that respect. She always evaluated the situation and looked instead for a solution. She knew complaining about an empty oil tank would not fill it.

  Leaving the courtroom, Jenn walked into the bathroom to freshen up before going home. As she went for the door on her way out, it popped open and members of Billy’s family ambled in.

  For a brief period, Jenn stood startled. She hadn’t expected to face them that close. They all knew who she was and where she stood regarding her loyalty to Jeanne, her family and Chris.

  They were all “bawling,” Jenn said. Hugging each other. No one knew quite what to do with themselves. To their credit, Billy’s family stood by him throughout the trial. They believed in him. They truly felt Nicole was the mastermind behind the entire murder plot and deserved the harshest punishment for manipulating Billy into murdering her mother.

  Facing Billy’s family for what was the first time that closely, Jenn thought, What do I do? What do I say? Then, without thinking about it, she blurted out, “I am so sorry for your loss.” As she said it, Billy’s aunt walked in and shot her a “dirty look,” according to Jenn.

  “I am so sorry for your loss,” repeated Jenn to Billy’s aunt. “We all lost something in this.”

  Then, without second-guessing herself, Jenn hugged Billy’s aunt and walked out of the room.

  Jenn had been carrying around a lot of anger as Billy’s trial played out in front of her. She harbored a resentment toward Billy she couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried. Now that he had been found guilty and sentenced, she was able to leave that hate and anger in the courtroom where it belonged. Jeanne could rest in peace now. One of the only unanswered questions Jenn contemplated as she walked out of the building concerned Nicole: how could she have been so cold on the witness stand?

  “Nicole wasn’t the same girl I knew—and that bothered me.”

  CHAPTER 85

  For everyone involved that knew Jeanne and Nicole, September 8, 2005, was one of the most emotionally challenging days of the entire process. It was sentencing day for Nicole. But more than that, three of Jeanne’s closest friends and family were set to address the young woman as she was forced to sit and listen to the pain and suffering she had caused so many lives.

  Chris McGowan wore a red sweater, black slacks. He looked ten pounds heavier than he had during Billy’s trial. It was clear the pain of losing Jeanne was still affecting not only his physical well-being, but his state of mind and, especially, spirit. Chris was crushed. In his view, Nicole, the one person he least likely suspected to destroy the life of the woman he loved, was just as responsible as Billy—if not more. The sentencing proceeding, which would likely result in Nicole getting the thirty-five years she had essentially cut a deal for, was a fraction of the time Chris believed she deserved. Nicole had escaped a life sentence only because she was willing to save herself. It had nothing to do, he felt, with setting the record straight and helping the course of justice for her mother. It was done solely for Nicole. Her life had been spared. She was young. She would see the light of day as a free woman again.

  It was hard for Chris to wrap his mind around the person Nicole had been three years ago.

  “She was never in trouble and was actually a good kid. She was an honor roll student in school and Jeanne was very proud of her. She was involved with the school chorus and actually has a very good singing voice. Jeanne and I would attend her chorus performances together. Jeanne was always very proud when she saw Nicole onstage. They were as close as a mother and daughter could be. Nicole would go to school and return home and then dive into her schoolwork.”

  Now she was sitting in front of a judge facing murder charges. Chris couldn’t figure out how it all happened.

  “It was that surreal.”

  Chris stood before Nicole with tears in his eyes and directly spoke of the crimes she had committed and what she had taken away from the community of Nashua. He presented photographs of Jeanne and her many accomplishments.

  Nicole wept. At times, she cradled her head in her hands as the tears drizzled down her cheeks and she stared blankly at the floor.

  “A day does not go by that I don’t stop and reflect on the memory of your mother,” Chris said without temperance. He despised the sight of Nicole. Had a hard time looking at her. “She loved you, Nicole,” he said in almost a whisper. “She was proud of you. She knew that you moving to Connecticut was not in your best interest.”

  And that’s what the murder of her mother had came down to: Jeanne’s refusal to allow her daughter to run off with an eighteen-year-old man.

  “It’s ironic,” continued Chris, “to think what the last words you heard your mother say were as you were speaking to Billy on the phone. If only you had—if only, Nicole—you had simply gone home.”

  That one statement brought Chris the most pain. The what-ifs had driven him crazy since the night he had found Jeanne.

  Along the same lines, when Nicole’s stepsister, Amybeth Kasinskas, stood and spoke, she continued, in a way, where Chris had left off.

  “If I had been a better big sister, if I had been a better adviser to you, that you would have made a better decision…I can’t fix this,” said Amybeth. “I can’t bring Jeanne back.” Then, “She’s gone because you allowed that to happen. I had expected to feel better when [the court case ended].” She paused. “But I don’t. Jeanne’s still gone. She’s gone forever…. I love you. But I may never forgive you. I’ve lost my opportun
ity to have hope for you.”

  Those words stung Nicole. She was visibly shaken. Then, continuing, Amybeth added, “It was selfish…I can’t even fathom it…. You could have stopped it and you didn’t. I know you’ve taken responsibility and I’m glad.”

  Jeanne’s ex-husband, Anthony Kasinskas, the one man perhaps least likely expected to speak with cadence, hadn’t planned on speaking, but stood and asked the judge for permission to step forward and address his daughter. Slowly, Anthony walked toward the lectern and began speaking frankly to a daughter who had repeatedly professed a burning hatred toward him: “Life is full of choices. You changed a lot of people’s lives…. Everything that everybody has said in this courtroom, think about it. You have plenty of time.”

  “It’s very difficult for the court to comprehend such a senseless, vicious crime…,” Hillsborough County Superior Court judge William Groff said before sentencing Nicole to thirty-five years, with a few years shaved off if she completed school and took college courses. “The murder of your mother would never have happened without your complicity.”

  CHAPTER 86

  Three months after Nicole was sentenced, she reached out to Chris McGowan in the form of two short letters. In one, Nicole expressed an interest in sitting down and talking. She explained how she needed a copy of his driver’s license number, birth certificate and telephone number in order for him to get into the prison.

  “I’m not going to call you, because I assume you don’t want me to….”

  Nicole’s instincts were spot-on. Chris had no use for Jeanne’s daughter at present. It was a struggle for Chris. He felt Jeanne would want him to go up and visit Nicole, make sure she was doing OK. He was convinced Jeanne wanted him to forgive, forget and make amends so Nicole had someone to fall back on while spending the next thirty-five years of her life behind bars. But Chris couldn’t bring himself to sit and “be there,” as he put it, “for the one person who could have stopped her mother’s murder.” He might be able to do it in the future, but not now.