Winter of frozen dreams (32 page)

Both men were killed by cyanide. From her background Barbara should have known precisely how much to administer, but Daviess body contained twice the lethal dose and Berge's body held thirty-seven times the lethal dose. Why the overkill with Berge? Burr and Doyle wondered.

If cyanide was in crystal form, Burr had been told, thirty-seven times the lethal dose would equal about one teaspoonful. Perhaps, Burr surmised, Berge had inadver-

tently killed himself. As bizarre as this premise sounded, it made a sad and morbid sense. Burr and Doyle developed a theory that resolved their doubts and fit the facts of the case. Only it could never be proven in a court of law.

By early 1977, they speculated, Barbara had Davies ready for the kill. The insurance, the wedding date, the passport, the Laabs materials for growing botulin—everything was in place. Then Barbara did something stupid. She got very high at a party and blurted out her scheme to a friend of Ken Curtis's. Curtis intervened. So Barbara postponed the murder. She knew the botulism idea had to be scrapped, but she was unwilling to abandon what she had worked so hard to arrange. Her plans were amended. Cyanide would be the murder weapon, and on May 27th cyanide was delivered to Daviess apartment. Linda Millar was invented as a cover, and Barbara waited. But Harry Berge interfered. She was done with Berge, having forsaken him for Davies, who was the big prey. Berge tried to win back her affections. He appeared at her apartment two days before Christmas and pleaded his love. It was late. Berge was a coffee drinker, and Barbara fixed him a cup of instant. He went to the cupboard and served himself a teaspoon of sugar.

Only it was not sugar. It was the cyanide that Barbara had bought for Jerry Davies. In crystalline form, cyanide and sugar are indistinguishable. The police had overlooked it when they searched her apartment on Christmas Day. Maybe Barbara was in the bathroom when Berge stirred in the cyanide. Maybe Barbara was so high on Quaaludes she didn't realize what he had done. Maybe she just didn't care.

Berge drank the coffee. Immediately his mouth and throat began to burn. His thoughts spun crazily. He knew Barbara was trying to break off their relationship. He knew he'd recently signed over his house and his insurance policies to her. Berge panicked. Each breath became a struggle. His head throbbed. Barbara had duped him, played him for a fool. In his anger and panic he lunged at her. Barbara kicked him in the groin. Berge went into

convulsions, but now his anger had triggered her fury. Barbara grabbed a frying pan—the most handy and effective weapon available—and attacked. She battered Berge into submission. Within minutes it was over. The cyanide had taken its fatal hold.

There was no doubt in Burrs or Doyle's mind that this scene set in motion the events that culminated in Jerry Daviess death. Davies had been murdered in a cool, calculated manner. It was a perfect crime. The jury had rendered the only verdict it could when it had voted acquittal for the Davies murder. Berge seemed the counterpoint. When he arrived at 638 State Street on December 23rd, Harry Berge was not supposed to die. His death was an accident that trapped Barbara Hoffman in her own web of manipulation and deceit. The irony was that she had been convicted of the crime she did not commit. For Burr and Doyle it was a strange sort of justice.

— 21 —

The drive from Madison to Fond du Lac is idyllic. Julys sun sets the verdurous countryside aglow. Corn sparkles green and shoulder-high in long, perfect rows. Meadows of alfalfa spread like squares of textured silk. Dairy farmers perform their chores.

The terrain changes as the drive continues north. The earth buckles in hillsides covered with woods. Evergreens are plentiful. The farms appear smaller, less prosperous. A trailer park rests on the edge of a town—long, thin corrugated tin cracker boxes assembled around a small lake— then there are motels with swimming pools and fast-food restaurants, and banks, bars, an IGA food store, then the stretch of road again, the cracked concrete patched with rivulets of tar, and the side roads that disappear into rural nothingness.

The Taycheedah Correctional Institute for Women sits a couple of miles outside Fond du Lac. From the highway

the facility evokes a serene and pastoral air, like a private women's college or an exclusive retreat. The appearance is deceiving. It is a prison, and Barbara Hoffman is a full-time resident.

The years have changed her some. According to her attorney, Don Eisenberg, her slender frame has added almost fifteen pounds. Religion has become important, and she claims to have a personal dialogue with Christ. She seems to have lost interest in the legal aspects of her case. Her state court appeals have been denied. She has instructed Eisenberg to discontinue all efforts at overturning her conviction on appeal at the federal level.

Yet the enigma of Barbara Hoffman remains. She has never granted an interview or made remark or comment concerning her case. If she has a desire to be heard or understood, it has never been expressed. Even in prison she is a solitary character, mysterious and reclusive. Perhaps she knows no other way to be.

On a July day the air smells fresh, as if cleansed by the suns broad beams. The sky above the Wisconsin hills is waxed blue and flawless. Not a single cloud intrudes on the heavenly expanse. The blue seems infinite and perfect.

Epilogue

Ten years later, Barbara Hoffman is not forgotten. Mention her name to a Madison resident and there is a flash of recognition, then a shudder as the sordid circumstances of her notoriety are remembered. The publicity generated by the case was ruinous for the sex business in Wisconsin's capital city. The places where Barbara cast her spell of sexual magic are gone; Cheri's is now a European-style cafe, Jan's Health Spa is a hair salon. There were over two dozen burlesque bars, massage parlors, and escort services in operation when Barbara Hoffman killed Harry Berge on December 23, 1977. Now there are three.

For everyone involved, the Hoffman case has had a profound effect.

Chris Spencer, who helped prosecute Hoffman, left the DA's office shortly after the case was concluded, the trial and its nasty skirmishes with Don Eisenberg having convinced him he was not cut out to be a courtroom lawyer. He still works for American Family Insurance, where after several promotions he is associate general counsel. Spencer still plays ice hockey on Sunday mornings.

Chuck Lulling retired from the Madison Police Department in 1978. The Berge investigation was his last case, but detective work remains in his blood. Lulling lives in Madison and works as a private investigator. The swagger in his step, the pipe, the walrus mustache, have not changed.

Liza, who worked in the massage parlors and befriended Barbara Hoffman, has reconciled herself with

that brief, tawdry piece of her past. She has earned a degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, married, and is the happy mother of a young son.

In 1983 Jim Doyle decided not to seek another term as district attorney and went into private practice. His involvement in Democratic party politics and progressive political causes remains strong. As of this writing he is running for election as attorney general for the state of Wisconsin. He still dribbles and shoots a basketball as quickly and as efficiently as he argues a point of law.

Despite offers to go into private practice, John Burr remains an assistant DA. Time has not changed Burrs style—quiet, methodical, thorough. And it hasn't changed the fact that Burr is one of the best at what he does-prosecute major criminal cases. His record of victories is long and impressive; however, the Hoffman case stands out as the most arduous and rewarding of his courtroom convictions.

For Don Eisenberg the relationship with Barbara Hoffman had severe repercussions. It was a difficult and risky task, defending Barbara, and the loss tarnished his reputation. More severe problems followed. In 1984 the Board of Attorneys Professional Responsibility, an adjunct of the Wisconsin Supreme Court that enforces the ethics code for state lawyers, found Eisenberg guilty of conflict of interest in the Hoffman case. His license to practice law was suspended. Eisenberg applied for reinstatement a year later but was denied. In 1988 he again applied for reinstatement. On November 1, 1989, the Wisconsin Supreme Court, citing financial improprieties not connected to the Hoffman case, revoked his license. Although Don Eisenberg now resides in Orlando, Florida, his ties to Madison are strong. His name still provokes controversy. He has bitter enemies and ardent supporters in the legal community. His courtroom antics are legendary.

Barbara Hoffman remains a mystery. The Taychee-dah Correctional Institute for Women in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, is her home, and she has steadfastly refused

any and all requests for interviews. Barbara has shown no interest in the technical training or educational programs offered at Taycheedah. She has no work detail, attends no classes, and does not associate with other inmates, choosing instead to isolate herself in her room. Barbara Hoffman is eligible for parole in August 1991.

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and cops. Based on scores of interviews with the homicide detectives, trial lawyers, local residents, and reporters, Winter of Frozen Dreams holds readers in its grip right up to its extraordinary conclusion.

Karl Harter lives with his wife and cat in Madison, Wisconsin. Winter of Frozen Dreams was researched and written during the past four years.

CB

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