Champion Gun Safes
Champion Gun Safes
The Jonbenet Murder Mystery: Circling back in on itself
Well, since the mighty (some case-followers would say “flighty”) Aphrodite Jones recently tossed her two cents into the Jonbenet Ramsey unsolved murder spectacle, I guess I’m going to, too.
The orthodox narrative of the soon to be 15 year old mystery now holds that John and Patsy Ramsey, the parents of the eternal yet unfortunate child beauty, suffered needlessly for years at the hands of the sometimes incompetent but always narrow-minded Boulder Police Department. They, the BPD, were dead set on nailing the parents, reading into the labyrinth of left-behind clues one inescapable conclusion: Ramsey culpability.
Only when former Boulder District Attorney Mary Lacy yanked the case away from the Police, ‘round about 2002, did a proper investigation have any chance of bearing fruit.
And first, under Lacy’s tutelage, forensic science was able to further cast light on that tiny amount of foreign DNA that had been intermingled with Jonbenet’s blood, found in her underwear. The profile – unable to be dated and sourced, and so long under a cloud of doubt, for years its relevance was bandied back and forth — was at last forwarded to CODIS, the Combined DNA Index System.
(This was a sample of unknown provenance, too small even to determine if it was skin, saliva or what have you, and it has never been matched with a name, even as of today.)
Anyway, in 2008 it was announced that yet more DNA had been isolated: on both sides of the victim’s long johns, microscopic skin cell DNA were scraped, collected, analyzed — and then, with much excitement, found to match the original profile. Thus, Lacy and her team concluded that finding DNA with the same deciphered profile in three different spots ruled out artifact of innocuous origin, but very likely demonstrated that some unknown male had handled two different sets of Jonbenet’s undergarments, and therefore was most likely the yet to be named killer. Since the DNA matched no Ramsey, living or otherwise, Lacy publicly exonerated the family.
Not long after, John Ramsey, the father, who over time has fought to claim for himself the mantle of cooperation, urged – again – a re-investigation, especially into someone close to his family . . . tantalizingly hinted at by a certain bizarre ransom note written so many years ago.
But in 2009, the baton had been passed on again – back to the aforementioned, bigoted BPD. Stan Garnett, who replaced Lacy in 2009, felt an unsolved crime should be actively investigated by the Police, not by a DA’s office holding it in stasis, hoping for a hit in a faraway DNA database. Further, without explicitly repudiating Lacy’s assertion the Ramseys were victims two ways to Sunday, he had intimated as far as he is concerned, he’ll follow the evidence where the evidence shall lead – to wherever, to whomever, regardless.
So, if the BPD had royally botched the case in the first place, as is the conventional wisdom, and continued to do so for years, is Stan Garnett a fool? Or does he, like many others, think the present day narrative doesn’t do justice to one of life’s most intriguing yet infuriating aspects: nuance. Maybe, just maybe, the DA has concluded, what went before Mary Lacy’s intervention wasn’t necessary a complete fiasco that belongs in some hidden away trashcan of irrelevant law enforcement history.
Back we go, to the beginning.
Almost as if it were a different age, maybe in an alternate reality, early in the morning of December 26th, 1996, a 911 operator received a call from a distraught, close to discombobulated, Patsy Ramsey. The woman, nearly hyper-ventilating, yammered she had discovered a Ransom Note that claimed her daughter had been kidnapped, and she beseeched the Operator to send help at once. Apparently, Patsy’s disorganized cry for help was in part due to her not having read the note in its entirety. That was something her husband, John, was doing at the time, with the three-paged threat spread out all over the floor. Then, Patsy, after the abruptly ending the 911 call, proceeded to call family friends, urging them to hurry over, that something terrible had and is happening.
(It has been endlessly debated as to why Patsy would so quickly defy the threatening language of the ransom note, which specifically warned against involving law enforcement. The kidnappers were supposedly conducting surveillance, yet Patsy announced, to anyone who would heed, hurry to the focal point of the insidious surveillance. Maybe she really didn’t read it all.)
In the span of a few short hours, searching Police officers, evidence-hungry detectives and meandering family friends had unwittingly done the mysterious culprit or culprits a huge favor: gross contamination of the crime scene. The Detectives, particularly Linda Arndt – who was later unwisely and unfairly left alone for hours that day in the mini mansion the Ramseys called home — treated the parents with kid gloves, taking the oddly worded ransom note at face value. (Also, the Ramseys were moneyed up the wazzo, and money can and often does influence the playing field, as the cops were to find out, soon enough.) Too often that fateful day, the whereabouts of resident or visitor in that house could not always be accounted for; movements were hardly painstakingly observed.
Between the hours of 8 and 10, a call, in accordance with the instructions of the ransom note, should have been received. “The Small Foreign Faction represented by a group of individuals” claiming responsibility, was after 118,000 dollars, and Mr. Ramsey (later referred to as “John” by the author as the note rambled on) was to await instructions.
Well . . . nothing happened. No sign or word of the missing 6 year old, and a frustrated, over taxed detective Arndt, a little after 1 PM, told restless John Ramsey to search the house, look for anything out of order. Further contamination just wasn’t on Detective Arndt’s mind, for whatever reason.
Soon, John Ramsey, with two family friends in tow, descended to the basement. (Unknown to law enforcement, John Ramsey had been down that way earlier in the morning; they would learn that pertinent fact four – count it! — four months later.) In an out of the way, nearly empty, windowless room (the infamous wine cellar), Mr. Ramsey located the body of his six year old daughter, behind a latched door in the dark.
(The Police had failed to open the door hours earlier, assuming a fleeing kidnapper would have no reason to go that way with their prey. Mr. Fleet White, one of the friends called over earlier by Patsy, and at John’s back during the horrid discovery, claimed, of his own initiative and wandering feet, to have looked into the room earlier, and saw nothing of note.)
Upon inspection of the remains, it seemed that someone had fashioned a makeshift garrote to make the little angel’s last moments on earth too terrible to contemplate, even for Quentin Tarantino. Was she strangled for someone’s sadistic pleasure . . . ? So viciously, that someone might have wickedly contemplated taking her head off? As the hardly cogent ransom note ominously threatened?
Mr. Ramsey carried his daughter up the stairs, and then placed her on the floor. Further contamination.
And the contamination continued.
Shortly, Detective Arndt had the body repositioned near a Christmas tree. Some well intentioned souls not only covered the body with a blanket, but the feet with a sweatshirt; and, not unexpectedly, Patsy Ramsey knelt over, hugged her only daughter before wailing for divine intervention.
Not even Sherlock Holmes could have extrapolated a pristine crime scene from this disaster. Good night!
Then . . . something hard to explain away, happened.
John Ramsey was overheard making plans to fly out of state with his family, that very night. The yet to be maligned Boulder Police informed the father of the newly discovered dead girl that was a big no-no. He had to stay around . . . there would very likely be a lot of questions — questions that Mr. Ramsey and his family would likely be the best candidates to answer.
To summarize what had happened that day after Christmas long ago: An oddly worded yet clearly threatening note was discovered, one that wants only 118,000 from a pretty rich guy for the safe return of his daughter, written by an anonymous kidnapping mastermind with murky comrades, who signed off with an unknown acronym of S.B.T.C . . . and Victory!
But the kidnappers, for some yet to be fathomed reason, got it half right: they left the note, as certainly kidnappers must — to get their point across. But they also their lifeless and, once inevitably discovered, useless bargaining chip.
A ploy at . . . misdirection?
The mother’s behavior, in hindsight, was speculated by on-site officers as unusual: she surreptitiously fixated on the movements of the original responding officer; and as the hours passed she sunk into such a funk — as if she had little, or even zero, hope whatsoever her daughter was coming back. No effort on her part to keep spirits up: something many people in such a dire pinch are wont to do. “Where there’s hope, there’s life” didn’t seem at all to apply to this wreck of a woman. As for her husband, John? Well, he earned the nickname “The Ice Man” for the better part of that morning. Further, the couple expressed little to no mutual support, as was noted by more than one observer. The two parents . . . weren’t as one.
Yet another odd point in an odd tragedy: Jonbenet’s older brother, 9 year old Burke, was trundled off to Fleet White’s nearby residence, around about 7 AM. It’s been claimed the child seemed somewhat incurious.
Though certainly a big house, but not exactly the Taj Mahal, the police could not ascertain with any confidence just how the villains broke in. They would learn, later, the Ramseys had a habit of loaning keys out; plus, a broken window in one of the cellars might have been another way. Sadly, as so many other aspects of this case, its significance got blurred. The window had been broken months earlier, so the police were told; whether it might have been fixed before the 26th of December, well, John and Patsy were a bit hazy on all that.
The next day, official suspicion grew, just about when the Ramseys obtained counsel: one lawyer for each parent, a third for the 9 year old son; plus a relative here and there would be provided counsel, as needed (especially when the BPD showed up at their door step). The only thing of value the Police would get out of the aggrieved parents the next four months was physical evidence that even the most well-heeled persons of interest could not deny: hair, saliva and handwriting samples. (The latter would be an ever vexing thorn in Patsy’s side to her dying day, a decade later: she could never be eliminated as the author of the Ransom note.)
The Police, puzzled but undeterred that the parents weren’t up to talking, must have figured this thing would be solved in no time: an absurd, elaborate ransom note with lines seemingly ripped off from action movies; also, a night light shed on the little girls upper legs revealed a substance authorities were certain would turn out to be a result of an obscene attack; and what kind of fool, no matter how evil, would concoct the ransom note, yet leave the victim’s cold dead body behind?
Misdirection, indeed. More like the misadventures of a moron.
Except . . . the substance on the child’s inner thighs was her own blood, wiped, but not wiped completely clean. The sexual pleasure derived at her awful demise? 15 years of debate has as of yet to definitively answer what should have been a simple question: was the assault she suffered that night twisted passion horribly forced upon the girl, or something else? As Jonbenet’s own grandmother, the late, irascible and inimitable Nedra Paugh, once conjectured, “Jonbenet was only a little bit molested.”
At the autopsy, it was additionally discovered the little girl’s skull suffered blunt trauma. Was that the cause of her death? The noose around her neck? Both?
Again, to summarize: an assault ill-defined; an alleged kidnap victim murdered and left behind, in her own home, no less; a ransom long on words, yet short on details; and parents unwilling to personally face the BPD’s probing questions.
They botched it early, but with each passing day the BPD focused more and more on the only known three individuals in the house that night: and they all had the last name of Ramsey. Start with the inner circle and work your way out, that’s the way to work an investigation. The problem was, getting outside the inner circle proved to be impossible, as the trail grew colder and colder.
As stated earlier, four months later the Police finally got to interview Patsy and John Ramsey, but not without a price: much of what was on the minds of the investigators had over time been fecklessly negotiated away to the Ramseys and their lawyers by a deferential Boulder District Attorney’s office.
The Ramseys were well prepared. Only then, in April, did the Police find out John Ramsey had been down in the basement before the 1 PMish discovery of his little girl’s body. Little else in the way of tangible evidence was revealed, except for an occasional inconsistency in just how Jonbenet got to bed that night. The interview and two subsequent – over an astounding span of nearly four years – proved exceedingly frustrating to investigators. In the words of one detective, Tom Haney, brought on board later, whenever Patsy was posed with a question, other questions seem to arise. Pinning her down was difficult. Another player on the non-Ramsey side of the murder mystery, former special District Attorney investigator Michael Kane, claimed the adult Ramseys left him with the following vibes: that John Ramsey was a very smart man, and one that is very careful at answering questions. His wife, Patsy, struck him as somebody that already had an answer in advance of the question, but just kind of resorted to an “I don’t know” if she belatedly realized she really didn’t have an answer in advance.
The only thing, case-wise, John Ramsey proved eager to do was hurl indignant rhetoric at the BPD. How dare they consider, even think, my wife and I had anything to do with this. Take a lie detector test? I’ve never been so insulted in my non-murdering life. As many case followers have snidely observed over the years, If John Ramsey had half the ill-will toward the mysterious killer that he had toward Boulder Police, this case might have got somewhere.
But nowhere it went . . . for years. Most of the detectives thought Patsy was neck deep in guilt, and her husband was an accomplice to a cover-up. Maybe, Detective Steve Thomas theorized, it was a fit of rage followed by an ad-hoc yet elaborate fake out. The former? The loss of control that stress forces upon an overly-busy, cancer-surviving, about to turn 40 year old perfectionist mother at her wits end over a six year old with toileting issues. The latter duplicity? Mostly, and likely, the work of a quirky, dualistic woman: somewhat naïve, drawn to charismatic visions of religious wonder, and a genuine urge to do charity where she could; yet, ambitious as demonstrated by her former beauty pageant queen status, her role as a start-up partner and hostess extraordinaire for her husband’s incredible success, overseer of the perfect household, and a driven mother of a future Miss America.
However, another detective, legendary Lou Smit, thought the Ramseys had nothing to do with it: an open window, a scuff on a wall, a suitcase under that open window, possible stun gun marks, and the Ramseys abiding faith in Christ, convinced him an overlooked intruder had struck.
As for that 3 page ransom note, written with the Ramseys’ own pad and pen?
The author – who had a god complex, Smit surmised — had broken into the house hours before the Ramseys got home that night, most likely through a cellar window. He familiarized himself with the layout, composed the 3 page monster note (after he happened upon a pay stub that showed John Ramsey received 118,000 in bonus money), emerged from hiding after the Ramseys came home and retired for the night, left the note were Patsy was bound to find it, stunned the little girl, descended the stairs with his prey, noticed too late the Ramseys had an alarm system (which he didn’t know was off) which precluded him from using a conventional means of exit, took the girl down to the cellar, realized he couldn’t get up through the window with her in tow, thus he choked, struck and violated her (but one can only guess in which order) and then fled, never to be seen nor heard of again.
Not so, claimed the aforementioned Thomas, after an unhappy laying down of the badge. He wrote a book, which revealed many of the secrets of the case, and for which the Ramseys sued him. Under terms never made quite clear, the lawsuit was a victory for the Ramseys, but curiously, Thomas was allowed to keep his book in circulation without a single word of retraction, nor cautionary note on the cover. Mr. Thomas asserted the following (among many other things):
FBI statistics show 12 to 1 odds that in child homicides, a family member or insider is involved.
When Patsy answered the door for the first officer responding to the 911 call, she had on the same outfit of the night earlier; her makeup and hair were done. Thomas felt she had never been to sleep that night, as she repeatedly claimed. He felt she had been very busy.
Fleet White, who is widely believed to have ventured down into the basement “before” John Ramsey slipped away, claimed to have opened the door to the wine cellar, but didn’t see the little girl.
The Ramseys refused, despite their own “public” words to the contrary, to take a law-enforcement administered polygraph for years. They did eventually submit to one: from a polygrapher of their own choosing.
A witness very close to the family reported that John Ramsey told his older children from a previous marriage the day of the murder that he found Jonbenet at eleven o’clock that morning, not after 1 PM. Right about the time he traveled to the basement by himself.
A forensic laboratory by the name of Speckin was ready to testify there was only an infinitesimal chance that a random intruder would have handwriting characteristics so remarkably similar to those of a parent sleeping upstairs.
And . . . how gigantic the size of genitalia (okay, my addition, here) did the murderous intruder have? A guy that would break into somebody’s mini mansion, somehow find his way around in the dark, compose a three-page note, with the owners’ own material, ask for a ransom that nearly matches the bonus received by the head of the household, abduct by blazing stun gun one of the residents (possibly feed her pineapple – read all about that one on the Internet, sheesh!), wrap a rope around her neck and wrists, tighten, bash her over the head, confuse the modus of death, wrap her in a blanket, and then flee the scene, but leave such an amorphous trail of evidence? 3 microscopic drips of DNA?
Thrown in here, free of charge, are possible answers to the Ransom Note, the cornerstone to the entire mystery. Answers that amateur and not so amateur sleuths have endlessly guessed at. (Especially at Forums for Justice and Topix, plus a transcript from Ramsey arch-nemesis, radio-host Peter Boyles). Who knows, this answer might not be far off the mark and bear some fruit one day, if one is willing to risk reputation by inserting a meaning here and there into an ostensibly meaningless Ransom note.
Its mysterious mention of a small foreign faction and two gentlemen who don’t particularly like John Ramsey, watching over Jonbenet, headed by the mysterious S.B.T.C? Well, Don Paugh, Jonbenet’s grandfather (it was later gleaned) in the days leading up to the killing, relayed to family and law enforcement he had witnessed at a local restaurant “two” ex-employees of John Ramsey – I guess the foreign faction they’re representative of couldn’t make it; also, one of those ex-employees had claimed at one time Ramsey’s company owed him 118,000! — had dinner with “Son of a Bitch Tom Carlson,” SBTC, a current employee not on good terms with Mr. Ramsey. Also, as for why the two killed their kidnapped victim, over whom they were watching, and thus allowed the precious bargaining chip to be discovered? The threat of death implied in the note was triggered because foolish Patsy rashly called the police. How could they foresee she would not so readily abide by the terms of the ransom, because she didn’t read the note entirely? Her sounding a general alarm and summoning help from all quarters could only result in one thing. What else were the two mysterious gentlemen to do, but live up to their end of the bargain and execute the captive and vamoose right out that basement window. (By the way, this was how they were keeping the Ramseys under surveillance, by hiding out down below. I guess, after John got the 118,000, and then he, Patsy and Burke, alone in the house if they were smart, would be surprised right out of their socks when the duo came up from the basement, ski masks and all, and yoinked the cash right out of fat cat John Ramsey’s hand, and then hauled ass. Of course, after telling the relieved parents Jonbenet was down in the basement.)
As an aside, many people have posited meanings for SBTC, like Soft Ball Team Captain, Sickened By The Cancer, Swamped By the Craziness, with Victory! thrown in as, it’s done, I’m free, one way or the other. Or . . . Super Bowl Team Captain – Victory! Wasn’t John Elway on three different super bowl teams as of the date of the murder, all of which he lost by exceedingly extravagant amounts? And he’s from Colorado. Anybody check into that Stout Bodied Touchdown Champion?
Yeah, any of the above could be answers – or . . ?
Some distraught soul, with time running out and a dead youngster that needed one hell of an explanation, hoped the deliberately ambiguously worded note, which would kind of mean something to somebody in the Ramsey universe, would not only buy time but also cast suspicion elsewhere as it was slowly interpreted over time by law enforcement.
How could the author, and possibly the savior doing the dictating, foresee that a hitch would develop when law enforcement didn’t do their part. Their failure to discover the body early the next morning, thus not right away recognize the girl had been murdered in retaliation, made the note look pretty damn foolish. (John Ramsey himself turned out to be the actual discoverer.)
Very, very odd. Too odd.
Still, time had been bought, however things were supposed to go down that awful day.
Still, time for all sorts of befuddling speculation from all corners presented itself.
Nedra, and Patsy’s sister Pam, they’re pretty darn gullible. And fiercely loyal. After all the conjecturing that inevitably arose in the wake of the murder, and with the whiff of a suggestion here and there, someone (Nedra) was likely to blurt out to law enforcement that SBTC, among other scenarios, could very well stand for Son of A Bitch Tom Carlson. (Nedra didn’t like him, either.)
Plant an idea, and it can take on a life of its own.
Even many of the IDI’s (Intruder did it advocates) do concede that whoever wrote that note, or at least decided upon the wording, and penmanship, was not a stranger to the Ramseys. BORG’s (bent on Ramsey guilt, another case watcher faction) just say it’s obvious who authored it. The sifted DNA from the clothing might have suggested non-Ramsey involvement, but they felt the teased out miniscule amount could have found its way onto the crime scene by a number of ways.
By the time a Boulder grand-jury was given the case near the approaching millennium, the killer’s trail had grown much colder. Thus, they who had the power of indicting the proverbial ham sandwich, said “no,” we, like the professionals, don’t know who killed this little girl, so we pass!
The DA and the Police did get one last shot at the Ramseys, in 2000, post grand jury. But, alas, John pontificated, Patsy obfuscated, and their attorney, Lin Wood of Richard Jewel fame, bloviated. So, with their tails between their legs and their heads bowed, Boulder law enforcement scampered away, none the wiser.
After this whimpering milestone, things have definitely been going the Ramseys’ way, except for Patsy, overtaken as she was by the cancer that dogged her since the early nineties.
Around 2003, a Judge named Julie Carnes, adjudicated a lawsuit brought by one Chris Wolf, who claimed the Ramseys slandered him by maliciously mentioning in their not mea culpa book, Death of Innocence, he was on a list of suspects the BPD had had on file. How dare they proffer his name, when they, the true culprits, damn well knew better?
Judge Carnes declared otherwise and summarily dismissed the case.
In fact, Judge Carnes took it one step further: with the material presented by both sides, it looked to Judge Carnes as if an intruder — versus an insider – was good for the crime. (Understandably, the Judge didn’t get to see the whole case file, because though it might be frosty, JonBenet’s murder was (and is) an open case; and case secrets, rare as they might be, must be kept from the public, Ramsey attorneys excluded).
The Ramseys were models of cooperation, Judge Carnes opined.
Only a lawyerly, legalistic mind (Judge Carnes?) could decide its par for the course that parents of a murdered child should without hesitation exercise to the fullest their right to avoid any possibility of self-incrimination by cooperating with the police only when it’s to their advantage. Like only agreeing to an interview at the really late date of June ’98, which happend to be not too long before a looming grand jury was certain to demand a tougher interrogation. (Why not do that, when — against FBI advice — the august Boulder DA was willing to bargain away the store just to ax you some questions?)
Ah, money and influence in America . . . what can’t it buy!?
Anyway, as stated at the beginning, further DNA enhancement and discovery in the interim have made the focus move further away from John and the late Patsy Ramsey. But, are they scot-free? If so, is anybody else on the radar? Legitimately in legal jeopardy?
Both Boulder Police and the DA over the years always have claimed they’ll never give up. The collective clues didn’t tag Patsy and John prior to Mary Lacy’s ascendancy, and all the years she had it, her openness to suspects put forward by Lou Smit and other assorted investigators got her the same, bupkis. (What the hell were they doing those seven long years, besides testing long johns and enabling an iffy documentary here and there?)
The new DA (Garnett) has publicly expressed an interest in clearing up cold cases, so, who knows?
My final two takes, though, go back to the Ramseys, specifically the surviving parent, John. It’s a character issue, and say what one will, but a lot can be said about what a man says, or at least allows to be put on record as to what he has said
First, Mr. Ramsey, couldn’t you have once put aside the bloated rhetoric as to why you dodged the Boulder Police? Since you showed up on CNN within days of your daughter’s death, you obviously had no issue with trying to get your side out there. It’s just you hardly said anything of use, only just Patsy and I didn’t do it, and how dare anyone suggest otherwise. Would it have been so bad, so detrimental, to just come out very early in the case and be a regular guy, and not act like a jaded politician always trying to score a point at the opposition’s expense? Maybe you should have humbly declared, Look, as to how this crime happened, it’s not unreasonable, it’s not beyond the pale, for some law enforcement officials to assume, and I repeat assume, that Patsy and I are somehow culpable in this. Somehow, someway, somebody has made this, very likely deliberately, to look as if we were involved somehow. Appearances, however, in this case are deceiving. So, bring it on, indict us if you will, but the truth will come out: because we didn’t do it, and we have the money and the will to make good on that. And, most importantly, I must know who killed my daughter!
That might have gotten law enforcement past the first inner circle of suspects promptly and moved on out to the outer rings, where Smit, Lacy and so many others say the intruder lurks.
Secondly, I recite,
“Mr. Ramsey asserts, however, that he never once suspected his wife to be involved in the crime.” That little sentence was a part of Judge Carnes 2003 decision dismissing the lawsuit brought by Chris Wolf.
John Ramsey “never” suspected Patsy? Even when he got up that terrible morning, read that overwrought note his overwrought wife discovered, the one which had his bonus figure standing out like a sore thumb, the one she didn’t completely read as she unnervingly hailed 911, all her friends, local parish Reverend included, and then preceded to sink into the depths of despair, long before discovering all hope was lost?
Yeah, John, you’re a believable cat, and a fat one at that.
Sources used include the novels “Perfect Murder, Perfect Town”, “Jonbenet Inside the Murder Investigation”, Louise Bardach’s Vanity Affair article, “Missing Innocence: The JonBenet Ramsey Case.” On the Internet, Acandyrose, JonbenetPbworks, Forums For Justice, Websleuths and Topix – with an x. (That “X” oughta stand for X-rated – the arguments get heated there.)
About the Author
David Rayd, writer at large.
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