A Deadly Secret: The Story of Robert Durst (24 page)

Bobby had rented the Corsica at a Rent-A-Wreck in Mobile, Alabama, on October 17, using Black’s name but paying in cash. He drove east to Baltimore, then up to the Atlantic City, New Jersey, area before stopping in Bethlehem, which was less than eighty miles west of New York City.

He arrived in the Lehigh Valley on November 18, checking into the Staybridge Suites. He was familiar with the area, having attended Lehigh University in the 1960s. During his twelve days there he had been seen, sometimes dressed in drag, talking to himself, even scaring customers at C. L. Checkers Pub, where he cleared his side of the bar with his unintelligible ramblings. There was a similar reaction from customers at the Golden View Diner, where he wore a brown wig and white mustache.

Bobby showed all the signs of a seriously disturbed individual.

The Galveston police weren’t buying it. They traced two guns—the .22 with the missing shell casing that had been found in the garbage pail behind the house on Avenue K and the nine-millimeter found in the car when he was arrested in Galveston—to Bobby.

He had purchased the nine-millimeter in 1993 in Tyler, Texas, a small town about an hour’s drive east of Dallas, where he owned a condominium. He purchased the .22 in August, a month before Black’s murder, at Carter’s Country, a gun store near Houston.

Galveston district attorney Mike Guarino made it clear that he planned to extradite Bobby to Texas, where he would be tried for the murder of Morris Black.

Following Bobby’s capture, his old friends in New York rushed to his defense. Doug Oliver told reporters that Bobby was a “great guy” and that he didn’t believe the charges against him.

“The Bob Durst I know could never do anything like that,” said Oliver.

Julie Baumgold, the writer who was Bobby’s childhood friend from Scarsdale, went one better. Baumgold’s husband, Ed Kosner, was the editor of the
New York Daily News
. On December 5, the
News
printed a front-page “exclusive” entitled “My Friend Bobby Durst,” written by Baumgold.

Two full pages long, Baumgold’s story was part love letter, part defense. He couldn’t have killed Susan Berman, she wrote, because Bobby had told her so. Following Susan’s death, Bobby told Baumgold that Susan would have supported his theory concerning his wife’s disappearance, that Kathie died at the hands of drug dealers.

How could Bobby commit such heinous acts? asked Baumgold. He was a gentle soul who chose to buy old cars and wear old clothes. His disturbing physical appearance upon his capture was the result of his being hounded for weeks and his having stopped taking his medications.

Baumgold also dismissed theories that Bobby’s $50,000 gift to Susan Berman prior to her death was hush money. Baumgold claimed she was the one who had asked Bobby to help Susan out, since Susan was broke and desperate.

Baumgold also slam-dunked John O’Donnell, the senior investigator in Jeanine Pirro’s office, describing a conversation she had with him in November, when O’Donnell called to ask if she had heard from her old friend.

She said no. O’Donnell told her he believed Bobby had killed Morris Black. Baumgold printed O’Donnell’s comments.

As kids, Baumgold said, they shared birthday parties and days on the Jersey shore. Bobby’s father, Seymour, had always worried about him, though Baumgold didn’t say why.

The story enraged the
Daily News
beat writers who were covering the Durst case. A good friend of Bobby Durst, the wife of the editor, was allowed to write a front-page story trying to explain her friend’s behavior? It was journalism in its lowest form.

When Jim McCormack read the story, he was filled with rage and frustration. Here we go again, he thought. Bobby’s friends and family were coming to his defense. They had the influence to soften his image, to explain away his actions. Off his medication—are you kidding me? He’s charged with dismembering a human being, and this woman is remembering days at the beach and mocking an investigator with the Westchester District Attorney’s Office?

If there was a silver lining to the story, Jim decided, it was that Bobby stood charged with murder in Texas, where Galveston judge Susan Criss had had enough of the publicity surrounding the case and imposed a gag order on all involved.

The
Talk
magazine story on Bobby and Kathie Durst was published in early January, and when Janet Finke read it, she wanted to open a window and scream from her Connecticut home.

Talk
was a New York magazine edited and published by Tina Brown, formerly of the
New Yorker
, and the Durst story was written by Lisa DePaulo, the veteran journalist who had been on the same October 15, 2001, flight to Galveston as Jeanine Pirro, and who just a year earlier had written a piece about the death of Susan Berman for
New York
magazine.

DePaulo’s
New York
piece had pointed the finger for Susan’s death squarely at her manager, Nyles Brenner, who, it turned out, had had a love/hate relationship with Susan—with the hate decidedly in the ascendant.

For
Talk
, DePaulo wrote a somewhat different version, now pointing the finger at Bobby and offering gushing praise for Jeanine Pirro, describing how she was “fixated” on solving the Durst case.

It was Pirro, wrote DePaulo, whose investigation had forced Bobby to act irrationally over the past year and a half.

But it wasn’t the praise for Pirro that had so riled up Janet Finke.

It was the story of Kathie’s last night alive as told by Gilberte Najamy.

Again, Gilberte had found her way into a magazine article, telling the world that she had relentlessly pursued Bobby for nineteen years, all to keep a promise she made to her friend Kathie Durst. Gilberte again told how Kathie had arrived at her house, how Bobby called several times demanding that she return home, and how Kathie was at her wit’s end.

Janet was furious after reading Gilberte’s comments about Bobby’s insistent calls.

Following her conversation with Bobby in August, just weeks before Morris Black was killed, Janet had hoped that she’d never speak to him again. She realized that Bobby was living a strange, vagabond life using false identities for reasons unknown to anybody. Whatever he was doing, Janet concluded it was something he had been working at for a long time. Though Bobby spooked her, Janet nevertheless thought that Gilberte’s story of that last Sunday when Kathie was seen alive should be told truthfully, at least from Bobby’s point of view.

Janet remembered that day. She and her then boyfriend, Alan Martin, were scheduled to have dinner with Bobby and Kathie, but Janet called Bobby around 5:30
P.M.
to cancel, saying she didn’t feel like driving in the bad weather. Janet remembered Bobby being calm during that call, saying not to worry about it, that Kathie was at Gilberte’s house and probably wouldn’t be back until later anyway.

Bobby wasn’t angry, thought Janet. So what’s Gilberte talking about?

—

In mid-January, two weeks after the
Talk
piece was published, another lengthy story on the Durst case appeared, this time in
Vanity Fair
.

And when Jeanine Pirro opened the magazine, she was irate.

Unlike the
Talk
piece, which credited Pirro in glowing terms as Bobby Durst’s main antagonist, the
Vanity Fair
piece fawned over Joe Becerra. Even worse, there was a photo of Becerra accompanying the story, in which he looked dapper in a tie and suit.

It didn’t matter that the story’s real focus was Gilberte Najamy, again relaying her story about how she suffered through extreme personal anguish to continue on a now twenty-year crusade to bring Bobby to justice.

Gilberte’s story was so good,
Variety
reported, that the author of the piece, Ned Zeman, had sold it to a production company owned by Bruce Willis for close to $1 million. Zeman would write the screenplay, and Gilberte would not only be paid a handsome sum for telling her story but would also be a consultant on the film.

Gilberte was ecstatic when she received the contract in the mail with an initial check for $5,000. It was a small deposit. Once the film went into production, a bigger payday would come.

Joe Becerra was also asked if he’d be willing to participate in the movie. He declined, telling the producer he was still involved in an active investigation.

The producer told him not to worry about it, that it was Gilberte they really wanted.

It was, after all, her story.

As soon as Becerra hung up the phone with the producer, he called Gilberte and told her in no uncertain terms that if she signed that contract she could forget about testifying at Bobby’s trial, whenever that would occur.

“What are you talking about, I’m not signing anything!” said Gilberte.

“You better not,” said Becerra. “If you take any money or sign any contract, you’re done. Understand?”

Gilberte seethed after hanging up with Becerra, angered at the stupidity of the producer to have told Becerra about her involvement. It was supposed to be a secret. She knew if word leaked that she accepted money for a film, she’d never testify. She’d be useless to the prosecution. She was even more enraged with Becerra, who had the audacity to think he could tell her what to do and try to blow her deal. After all, Ned Zeman had told Gilberte that hers was by far the most interesting story relating to the disappearance of her friend Kathie.

Gilberte was bitter, and the focus of that bitterness was Joe Becerra.

—

On January 25, more than a dozen television cameras lined the hall on the second floor of the Northampton County Courthouse in Easton, Pennsylvania, waiting for Bobby Durst to emerge from an underground waiting area to stand before commonwealth judge James Hogan and waive his extradition to Texas.

Minutes earlier, Gilberte Najamy was outside the courthouse, having made the three-hour drive from central Connecticut. The cameras and reporters swarmed around her, and for each interview there was no shortage of tears.

“I was Kathie’s best friend, and I’m here to see Bobby. I want him to tell me what he did with Kathie,” said Gilberte.

Inside, Jeanine Pirro stood on the marble floor in front of the courtroom, looking as beautiful as ever in a sharp business suit cut to the knee, her heavy lipstick reflecting the ceiling lights. She unintentionally brushed her shoulder against Cody Cazalas, who had flown up from Texas that same day just in case Bobby was released to Galveston authorities. Cazalas would say nothing to the reporters mulling around, saying he was under a gag order. He could only offer a “no-comment” and a big, wide smile.

When Gilberte was finished with the television crews outside, she took the elevator up to the second floor and walked over to the courtroom, where she saw Pirro standing in front. The two had never met before. Gilberte, wearing a worn, gray sport coat and black pants, walked over to the DA, put her arm around her neck, and introduced herself. The two women huddled for ten minutes. When it was over, Gilberte was beaming, and hurriedly walked over to a reporter she knew and proclaimed, loudly, that Joe Becerra was off the case.

“What?” said the reporter, with other members of the media looking on.

“Joey B, he’s off. Gone. Pirro’s going to take him off the case. She’s pissed that Joe never introduced me to her. She’s very upset. And I’m going to visit her on Monday. She wants
me
to come in and personally tell
her
everything I know.”

With one fatal slice, a quick conversation with Pirro, Gilberte got her revenge on Joe Becerra.

She then turned around and headed toward the courtroom while, on the other side of the long hall, television cameramen positioned themselves to get clear shots of Bobby, who was being led upstairs.

When he came into view, handcuffed and led by two sheriff’s deputies, it was the first time most reporters covering the case had ever seen him in person. He was a runt of a man, his once-bald head and shaved eyebrows now sporting gray hair. Wearing gray-rimmed eyeglasses, a dark blue sport jacket, and blue shirt, he walked calmly past the media and into the courtroom, taking a seat next to his attorney, Michael Kennedy, who had driven in from New York.

Pirro took a seat directly behind Bobby, though she had no role to play in the proceedings.

Bobby sat passively, his face twitching violently as Northampton County district attorney John Morganelli told the court he wanted Bobby out of his jurisdiction.

Bobby glanced around the courtroom and noticed Cazalas off to the side. He leaned over to one of Kennedy’s assistants and asked if the big man was from Texas.

Judge Hogan told Bobby to stand, then began to ask a series of questions. Bobby’s answers, though only yes and no, were drawn-out responses, “yessssss” and “noooooo.” His drawl was disconcerting to some in attendance, who were spooked by his shrill voice.

The hearing was brief. Judge Hogan approved the extradition. Everyone stood as he left the bench. Sheriff’s deputies stepped in front of Bobby and led him out of the courtroom. Gilberte watched from the back, where she stood in the last row, next to the aisle. It was the first time in twenty years that she was only a breath away from Bobby, and as he approached her, Gilberte reached out.

“Tell me what you did to Kathie,” she said.

Bobby didn’t recognize her at first, but he knew that voice, and for a split second after he realized it was Gilberte, he stared at her intensely, then he walked on by and out of the courtroom.

It was a dramatic moment. Right out of a Hollywood script.

Gilberte put her hands to her face and began sobbing, again.

—

Minutes later Morganelli and Pirro stood downstairs in front of Morganelli’s office for a press conference. The questions came in rapid fire and all centered on the extradition. Morganelli did all the talking as Pirro stood by, impatiently waiting for a question, any question, about her investigation. But none came, and as Morganelli finished answering yet another question about the extradition, the Westchester DA moved in.

“And as far as the New York case is concerned . . .” she began, making sure she got her sound bite for the local news that night.

Off in the corner, behind the cameras, Gilberte Najamy was giving yet another interview, this time to a print reporter. As she expressed her feelings about her dramatic confrontation with Bobby, the reporter asked her who she was.

“I was Kathie’s best friend,” she replied as the tears flowed once again.

—

Bobby arrived in Galveston around 3
P.M.
on Sunday, January 27, 2002, taking a flight from Philadelphia to Houston, escorted by Cody Cazalas and two sheriff’s deputies. They sat at the back of the plane, Bobby taking a window seat. His hands were cuffed, and he remained quiet throughout the flight—so quiet the other passengers had no idea he was on board.

He was taken to the Galveston County jail, processed, and placed in a cell.

He appeared in court three days later and entered his plea before state district judge Susan Criss.

“I am not guilty, your honor.”

His trial was set for June 3.

Bobby’s attorney, Dick DeGuerin, a Houston-based criminal lawyer who was considered one of the best in the state, had been handpicked by Michael Kennedy.

Over the last few months, as many as nine investigators working for DeGuerin had traveled the country, tracking down and interviewing every friend and acquaintance of Bobby, and nearly all the witnesses in the Morris Black murder case, feeling them out for inconsistencies in their stories.

After Bobby delivered his plea, DeGuerin made a motion to suppress any testimony or mention of Kathie Durst or Susan Berman during the murder trial.

DeGuerin also asked the court to order Jeanine Pirro and Gilberte Najamy to appear at an upcoming hearing, claiming their public statements could impair Bobby’s right to a fair trial.

“Every day Jeanine Pirro is out there grandstanding, holding press conferences,” said DeGuerin.

Judge Criss ruled that neither Kathie Durst nor Susan Berman could be mentioned during the trial.

She declined to order Pirro or Najamy to Galveston.