The Suicide Princess (23 page)

The officer then cut the stocking from her ankles and helped her to pull her pants up as she rolled to her side. Stephanie reached to her face to wipe the lipstick writing from her forehead as she said, “Thank you. Thank you, so much. I thought I was going to die in here.”

“I think you might be right, ma’am.” Said the officer while stopping her from wiping her forehead. “You need to leave that there for just a few more minutes. We need to have someone take a picture of it for evidence. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, just please hurry -- this is so humiliating.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, ma’am. None of this is your fault.”

As Derrick was being handcuffed, and officers were tending to Stephanie, Jacob was at the front door of the apartment pleading with an officer, “My wife's in there, you have to let me in.”

The officer replied, “Sir, this residence is a crime scene you can't come in,” while pushing Jacob back.

Jacob suddenly saw Stephanie running to him from within the apartment while yelling, “Jacob!” She burst past the officer posted by the door and into Jacob's arms.

“It's over, baby. It's all over. I have you now, and I'm never letting go. Do you hear that? I'm never letting go.”

Jacob held Stephanie up as he felt her body collapse. She tried to speak, but her crying made
nearly all the words flowing across her tongue completely incomprehensible. “Oh my God, I love you,” was all Jacob could make out.

***

Derrick sat alone in a small interrogation room at Boston Police Headquarters. The room was painted a pale blue color, and the only furnishings were a small table with a chair on either side. He looked at the large mirror on one side of the wall, and assuming someone was watching him from the other side, he shouted, “Are you dickheads coming in here soon or what?”

A moment later, a gruff, overweight
Detective in his late forties walked into the room. He was wearing a white short-sleeve shirt with a very loose fitting tie, and he introduced himself, “I'm Detective Carter, and you are?”

“Pissed,” Derrick replied as he pressed an ice pack against the large lump on his head.

Detective Carter sat across the small table from Derrick, and he peered over the top of his reading glasses as he replied, “There's two ways we can do this son, and the easy way doesn't have anything to do with you being a smart ass. What's your fucking name?”

“Derrick Hanson,” he replied. “And when I get out of here, I'm suing the shit out of all of you people.”

“I wouldn't go spending that big lawsuit money just yet if I were you,” said the Detective.

“The girl in my apartment, Stephanie, she wanted to be there. She was there on her own. She came up there knowing damn well what was going to happen.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, she's down the hall telling a very different story. I also saw a video you were making that sure doesn't look like she wanted to be there. In fact, I'll quote, '
Derrick, you have to let me go. I don't want to do this,
' is exactly what she said on the video.”

Derrick angrily replied, “That shit is so out of context. Have fun trying to get anywhere with that.”

Detective Carter said, “Let's just set that issue aside, because to be honest, that's really the least of your problems right now. We'll get back to it, though. For now, just tell me about your relationship with Karen Borden.”

“Who?”

“Your girlfriend, Karen. You had a relationship with her, right?”

Derrick stumbled for an answer, “I mean, I know her, but barely. I know who she is, and that's about it.”

“So, you only knew her a little? She was an acquaintance, someone you knew in passing?”

“Why do you keep referring to her in the past tense?” Derrick asked. “Is she okay?”

“No, she's not okay, she's actually dead. But the fact that she's dead is of less interest to me than how she got to be that way,” Detective Carter coldly stated.

***

Four Nights Earlier:

Stephanie and Jacob had just walked into their house after discussing their plan to stage Karen's suicide as a murder. They had fine-tuned the necessary details to convincingly lead the police to the conclusion that it was Derrick who was responsible for her death.

They stood on the stairway talking until Stephanie said, “You're right, I'm just going to leave. Call me when you're done?”

“I will,” said Jacob. “What time is it now?”

“It's three-fifteen.”

“Shit! You have to go, because I need to hurry. Let me take care of everything here, and you go take care of things on your end,” Jacob said as he started quickly walking up the stairs. After a few steps, he stopped and said, “Steph... Please be careful.”

“I will, Jacob. I know you're not going to say it back, but I love you.”

Stephanie walked out of the house, and as the door closed, Jacob said, “I love you, too.”

Jacob climbed the stairs, and he paused with a feeling of anxiety as he stood at the doorway to the bedroom. Karen's upper body was obscured by the doorjamb, but he could see her legs extending outward from the closet. He took several deep breaths as he thought,
You have to do this, Jacob, you have to do this
. He took one last breath and said to himself, “Here we go.”

He entered the room, and Karen's lifeless body came into full view as he walked in. Her face was a pale gray color, her lips had turned a dark shade of blue, and her now clouded eyes had the dark spots of petechial hemorrhaging which occurs during strangulation or hanging.

Jacob reached into the closet, with socks over his hands to avoid leaving his fingerprints, and he unbuckled the belt from the garment rod. He then placed the belt around Karen's neck and rolled her body onto her stomach. Jacob knew the internal injuries to the neck and throat of the victim of a hanging are much different than the injuries sustained by strangulation, and he needed to replicate the latter. He placed his knee in the back of her neck, and he began to forcefully pull back on the belt until he felt her throat crushing. He pulled and tore at her shirt to cause rips and strains in the fabric to indicate a struggle. Lastly, he pulled her hands behind her back and bound her wrists together with a plastic wire-tie to complete the illusion of Karen being murdered rather than having taken her own life.

“I'm so sorry for this. I am just so sorry,” he said, with a single tear rolling down his cheek, as he finished the gruesome task and stood to his feet.

Karen's petite size and very light weight made easy work of carrying her down the stairs and out to the car, and Jacob worried immensely as he made the short dash from his front door to the trunk of the Volvo parked in his driveway. He previously opened the trunk before bringing her body out, and although he saw no one outside at the time, he was terrified someone would witness him carrying the body. The transfer was completed without detection, however, and he made the forty-five minute drive from the house to Derrick's apartment building.

Jacob rushed to get to Derrick's before sunrise, and he arrived with mere minutes to spare. He drove to the rear of the building and slowly traveled through the back alley adjacent to the building. As he reached the mid-way point of the alley, he could clearly see the entrance at both ends. He left the engine running as he casually walked to the trunk, opened the lid, and took one last look around before hastily pulling Karen from the trunk. He momentarily cradled her in his arms as he brought her to the edge of the alley, and dropped her next to a pile of debris and rubbish. Jacob took one last look around, assuring no one had seen him, and rushed back into his car to make his getaway.

Karen stayed there, with the belt left around her neck, until she was discovered later in the morning, and there was nothing left to indicate it was Jacob who was responsible for disposing of her body.

Jacob
drove to a local convenience store and he used cash to purchase a cheap, pay-as-you-go, disposable phone. He also purchased a minutes card so he could use it without the phone being linked or traced back to him in any way. After the temporary account was activated, he initiated the only call the phone would ever be used to make.

“Boston Police Communications Center, Johnson speaking, how can I help you?”

“Yes, can I talk to a Homicide Detective, please?” asked Jacob.

“If you need to report a homicide, sir, you need to hang up and dial nine-one-one.”

“No, I'm not reporting a murder; I have information, and I need to speak with someone.”

“Please hold,” said the operator.

The phone rang for a moment before being answered, “Homicide,” by a man with a very disinterested tone.

Jacob explained, “I know this is going to sound
shitty, but I saw something that I don't want to get involved in, but I feel like I have to say something. Are you the person I should talk to?”

The man on the other end of the phone sarcastically replied, “Sir, how can I know if I'm the
person you need to talk to if I have no idea what you're even talking about.”

Jacob explained, “I think I saw a murder last night, or at least part of one, anyway. At first I shrugged it off thinking I must have been mistaken and didn't see what I thought I was seeing. I've been thinking about it all day,
playing it over and over again in my mind, and now I'm certain of what I saw. I know I should have called last night, but I need to tell someone about it.”

“I'm the person you need to talk to,” the man said. “Can I just get your name please?”

“No, I'm not comfortable giving my name. I don't want to get involved any more than this, but I'll tell you what I saw if you think it might help you.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“I was cutting through an alley just north of The Common, around one in the morning, and I saw a guy pulling something out of the trunk of his car. At first I didn't think anything of it, but as I was driving right by him, I'm almost sure it was a woman he was pulling out.”

“What makes you say that?” asked the man.

“I think I saw blonde hair.”

“Are you sure there's no way I can get you to talk to me in person?” asked the man on the phone. “I think that would really be best.”

Jacob said, “There's no way I'm getting involved in this. I'll hang up, right now, and never call back if I think you're going to push me into something.”

“Not at all, sir.
Just keep telling me what you saw – what did this guys look like?”

“It was so quick. I just remember he was a white guy, maybe in his early thirties, and he had a goatee.”

“Great, great, is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

“Tattoos,” said Jacob. “He had a lot of tattoos on his forearms.”

“What kind of car was he taking her out of, do you remember?”

Jacob remained silent before saying, “A BMW. It was a black BMW.”

“I just need to ask you,” the man started asking before Jacob interrupted.

“Was there a murder? Did I really see what I think I saw?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“I have to go,” Jacob said as he ended the call.

Jacob got out of his Volvo and wiped down the phone with a rag, to remove any fingerprints, and he threw the phone in a nearby trashcan on the sidewalk. His own phone vibrated, and he looked at the screen to see that it was Stephanie calling. He answered to hear Stephanie ask him, “I'm afraid to ask, but is everything taken care of at the house?”

Jacob paused and answered, “Yes, everything is done. How are you doing?”

***

Still in the interrogation room with Detective Carter,
Derrick exclaimed, “Holy shit, man! Alright, I didn't have shit to do with anything that might have happened to her, so I'm going to be completely honest.”

“That would be lovely.”

“I've been dating her for a couple of years, but I didn't want to say anything because she's married. We have a sexual relationship, and that's it. Nothing more and nothing less. I didn't have shit to do with anything that could have hurt her.”

Detective
Carter let out a long exhale, and said, “That's not how I'm seeing it. Just be honest with me. Did you two have a fight? Were you upset that Karen was breaking up with you? If you just snapped and something happened, we can work with that, but you have to talk to me.”

“I didn't do anything to her - I swear on my fucking mother!”

Detective Carter compassionately said, “Derrick, I want to help you, but you need to help me to help you. You need to tell me what happened, and we can fix it. We just need to know exactly what happened.”

“I'm not a god damned moron,” said Derrick. “You're not going to buddy up to me and get me to admit to something I didn't do.” He stared up at the ceiling and said, “I think I need a lawyer. When they first brought me in here, they read me my rights, and they said I could have a lawyer before I talk to you. I want one.”

“Sounds like a good idea, but just remember something: if you cooperate and work with me, you only make it easier on yourself in the end.” Detective Carter leaned in, bringing his nose to within an inch of Derrick's. Derrick could smell the mixture of coffee and cigarettes on the Detective's breath as he continued, “But if you fuck with me, I promise you'll spend the rest of your life rotting in a maximum security prison.”