Fatal Vision (33 page)

He got a letter from the Countess Christina Paolozzi, the New York socialite and fashion model who was at that time the wife of a Park Avenue plastic surgeon named Howard Bellin—a man whose friendship MacDonald had cultivated during his internship year at Columbia Presbyterian.

The Countess informed him that she and her husband had agreed to lend their names to a fund-raising effort in his behalf, and that Dr. Bellin had already written a letter seeking contributions to the "Jeff MacDonald Defense League."

She further assured him that, "If all goes well and they drop these ridiculous charges, we will give you a fund-raising party where you'll come in person. We've got a lot of guest rooms in this eighteen-room apartment on Park Avenue. You've got a room here when you get free, and we will show you how the rest of the world is living during this year of monetary crisis. . . . Oh! My Jeff, I have tears in my eyes for you darling. It is the waste. I do not understand. But only a few men get a chance to find out how much their friends would do for them. And how many people really honestly care. And maybe you are privileged that way."

The Countess's letter prompted an assistant of Bernie Segal's to announce to the press that, "The ' Jet Set' is joining the defense," and that letters requesting contributions had been sent to "all the big people—the ultrarich."

To Jeffrey MacDonald, who had used grit, brains, and charm to climb from blue-collar Patchogue to the Ivy League and then to the threshold of an immensely promising career in medicine— but who now sat under armed guard in a bachelor officer's room at Fort Bragg, accused of murder—the allure of such a promised land was powerful. If celebrity was to be a by-product of his tragedy, he would not fight it.

The lack of aversion to publicity was a quality which MacDonald shared with his attorney, Bernie Segal. Not content with giving daily briefings to the local press (and hoping to spark interest in a book), Segal arranged for MacDonald to grant a lengthy and exclusive interview to the Long Island newspaper
Newsday.
It was the first time that MacDonald had spoken publicly, in detail, about the events of February 17. He had hitherto described them, even to his closest friends and family, as simply "too painful to talk about."

Though the interview occurred weeks before he would testify at the Article 32 hearing, MacDonald was far from reticent, describing in detail the attack and its aftermath (stating that he had sustained twelve icepick wounds across the abdomen and three icepick wounds on the left arm, one stab wound in the left arm, two stab wounds in the abdomen, and a stab wound in the right chest, and that at Womack Hospital he had been treated for shock) and even going so far as to discuss his contemplation of suicide on the night of April 6 ("I was laying in bed, looking at the pipe running across the barracks, an exposed pipe with all that dirty green chipped paint, and looking at my belt and saying to myself, 'If I jump off my desk with a belt, will it work?' ") and to draw stick-figure diagrams which illustrated the locations of the bodies of his wife and children inside the apartment.

MacDonald also told the interviewer that "My whole image of myself has been changed drastically. It's been the hardest thing for me to accept—that I failed my family when I was needed most. You can put in all kinds of rationalizations—there were four people against one, you were hit on the head, you were unconscious—but the fact remains I did not defend my family and they are dead. This is what keeps me awake nights. In my mind I feel that I have let them down, and I have to live with that and that's been a crushing blow for me to face up to."

An even more crushing blow, he said, was the sudden realization, on April 6, that the CID suspected him of having committed the murders.

"In the prior six weeks, there was absolutely no hint that I was a suspect. As a matter of fact, on multiple occasions the provost marshal had personally assured the press that I was indeed not a suspect, that there was no evidence against me, and my wounds were multiple and serious and I could not have inflicted those wounds on myself.

"It's funny how long it took me to get the idea that some people, in fact, did not believe me. You know, it didn't normally occur to me—since I had witnessed four people and I had seen my kids and my wife in this condition—that this wouldn't seem reasonable.

"First of all, you know, you'd either have to be on drugs or be psychotic, there's no two ways about it. What was done in that house was not done by normal people.

"But apparently some people were bothered by the fact that I did survive my injuries, which, while serious at the time, are not as serious as the rest of my family's. Although in number I had just as many stab wounds, they weren't as deep because I was defending myself."

MacDonald then talked about April 6. "I walked in," he said, "and Mr. Shaw, and Mr. Ivory came in behind me, and Mr. Grebner said, 'Sit down, Captain MacDonald, we want to talk to you.' I mean it was a very somber act that I walked into. There were three men in business suits with guns on, staring at me, you know, and he said, 'We have a few questions to ask you,' and I said, 'Fire away,' and he said, 'First, before I do, let me read you your rights.'

. "So I waived my right to counsel and they began questioning me, and there were very minor inconsistencies—nothing at all in, you know, the heat of the questioning, or as far as even they were concerned.

"But then, after a little over two hours of interview, they started asking me questions that were obviously indicative that they felt that the scene was staged, and my reaction at that was incredulous.

"I got mad at them. I was swearing at them, as a matter of fact. I said, 'You guys are out of your goddamn heads.' I said, 'What do you mean, staging? Six weeks after the crime is committed, you calmly assume it's staged by me?'

"And I said, 'First of all, you've shown me a tremendous lack of investigatory ability. You've had—you've been really incompetent from the beginning, both on the investigation and on your public relations. My wallet was taken from your custody. It's taken you six weeks to figure out that the scene was staged, and now you're telling me that I murdered my family and you have absolutely no evidence. And furthermore, what motive do you think I had?'

"At which point he pulled out a photograph of this girl from San Antonio, and he passed it to me and said, 'Do you know this girl?' And I looked at and I said, 'Yes, it's a girl I knew in San Antonio.' And he said, 'How long did you know her?' And I said, 'One day—one afternoon and evening,' and he said, 'What happened?' and I said, 'Nothing. I took her out.' And he said, "Did she know you were married?' And I said, 'She knew I was married and had two kids, and I told her so before we even decided on a date that evening.'

"He said, 'Did your wife know?' I said, 'No, I was away from home and it was a one-night date—pickup—and nothing happened, and there was absolutely no letters, no phone calls, no follow-up, no before, nothing.'

"I said, 'If you'd like to question the girl about that, feel free,' and they said, 'We have.' And I said, 'Terrific—then you know I'm not lying to you.' And they didn't say anything. They put the photograph away—put it in a folder.

"This was all done in a—in a tremendously Dick Tracy-like atmosphere. You know, they had a light shining in my face and two guys were facing me and one guy stood behind me and, like, every fourth or fifth question was from the guy behind me, and in order to see him and his reaction to either the question or any answer that I would give, I'd have to turn to face him. It was really juvenile.

"And I did not know that this was being tape-recorded, by the way. They didn't tell me that. They were just interviewing me. I never saw a tape recorder or a microphone or anything like that.

"Then Mr. Grebner left the room and Mr. Shaw, who had taken the hard approach—he had been the one saying, 'You murdered your wife, you staged the scene'—he left the room and they left Mr. Ivory.

"He was silent for about two minutes, and then he tried what is called in the Special Forces the Mutt-and-Jeff approach. He walked over and sat on the desk, and he leaned forward and he was very friendly and he said, 'Captain MacDonald, there have been a lot of allegations thrown around here today. Personally, I have no feelings on the matter except I don't like the way some of my, er, fellow workers do things. I don't like the way they approach the problem, and furthermore I don't really believe a lot of the things they have alleged here.'

"And I looked at him and I said, 'Mr. Ivory,' I said, 'Really, now, this is very juvenile.' I said, 'I'm sure you're the other half of the Mutt-and-Jeff team, and you expect by putting your arm around me and patting my shoulder I am supposed to break down and confess.' I said, 'Let me set you straight: I have nothing to confess to. I have never done anything.'

"Later, Mr. Shaw said to me, 'Would you take a lie detector test?' and I said, 'Absolutely.' I said, 'Without any question I'll take a lie detector test right now.' And there was stunned silence in the room. I was amazed at their reaction. They were stunned. They just sat there and looked at me, and about a minute later Mr. Grebner said, 'You will?' And I said, 'Absolutely. I haven't lied to you.' I said, 'I'll take a lie detector test.' I said, 'Let's take one.'

"And they looked at each other, and they said, 'We can't give it to you now.' And I said, 'Why not? You guys have made a lot of allegations. Let's take a lie detector test.' And Mr. Grebner said, 'Well, we have to get him from Washington.' And I said, 'Well, get him from Washington. I'll take a lie detector test.' And at that point he said, 'That will be all,' and I got up and left the office.

"Then, at 4 o'clock I got a phone call to report to my commanding officer, and he said, it's my unfortunate duty to tell you that you have been named as a suspect in the murder of your family.' And then he said, i better also tell you that they're having a news conference with AP and UPI in about half an hour,' and I was just completely stunned."

Later MacDonald was afraid that he might have given away too much for nothing. This concern was illustrated by his diary entry for Saturday, July 25, the day after the Army prosecutors had rested their case against him.

The
Newsday
reporter, he wrote, "has been here for days now, going through files in the office. I'm a little ticked off at Bernie—he won't tell me anything about the financial arrangements, but he has given away much valuable material. If I now want to see another author about the story, this guy has most of the best info, with no guarantee that I get anything."

Two days later, MacDonald wrote:

Newsday
reporter going home today. Had long conversation with him about the article. He assures me I will do well financially by him at the right time, just to trust him and Bernie.

Despite the fact that when the interview appeared, MacDonald found "very good response—it's being carried in Raleigh, possibly LA
Times
and
Chicago Sun-Times"
he was not content to leave such a vital matter as future publicity solely in the hands of Bernie Segal, nor to trust the
Newsday
reporter to do right by him financially. In October, even as he awaited the Army's decision on whether to dismiss the murder charges against him, MacDonald began to act as his own agent.

He wrote to John Sack, then of
Esquire
magazine:

Dear Mr. Sack,

I am a 27 year old Green Beret physician currently awaiting the result (officially) of an Art. 32 investigation into the murder of my wife and two little girls. . . . This letter is being written to you for the purpose of interesting you in writing a major article and/or book regarding the events of the last 9 months. The Army has attempted to cover up a bungled investigation by charging me with the crimes, in spite of the fact that my story fits the facts. . . . We have complete files documenting the case and the Army screw-ups.
...

The case has received nation-wide publicity on several occasions, as well as continuous local news in the NY and North Carolina areas. Several politicians have had some association with the case (Goodell, Pike, Ervin, Javits) and the Pentagon is intimately involved. Public opinion has changed so that it is now almost 100% on my side (at least from the mail I get). The case certainly has all the emotional impact any case could have, and in addition has some interesting sidelights, such as a fund-raising drive by a prominent NY socialite (Dr. Howard Bellin and his wife, Countess Christina Paolozzi). . . .

My lawyers are currently in contact with
Look
magazine regarding a possible article, but I am more partial to your style and they will agree with any decision I make about the author. I would appreciate hearing from you as soon as possible. . . .

On the same day, he wrote to Jack Nelson of the
Los Angeles Times:

I have recently read of your exploits in the world of expose, as chronicled by
Time
magazine—it occurs to me that you are well-suited to write a major article on my case, and I thought I would write directly to you and attempt to elicit your interest. My lawyers are currently in some first-stage talks with
Look
and
Esquire,
but nothing has been firmed up, and they will agree on whoever I choose to write the story. . . .

He also wrote to a reporter named Jack Bass, of the Charlotte, North Carolina,
Observer: