If You Really Loved Me (39 page)

33

O
n that last Saturday in October when Cinnamon talked to Jay Newell, David Brown wrote a letter to Patti Bailey. It was not a particularly unusual letter; indeed, his correspondence repeated the same themes continually. This was only one of dozens, sometimes two or three a day, that David sent from the men's jail to the women's section. Syrupy, seductive, manipulative letters and cards, along with articles on marital fidelity—reproduced from the
Catholic Digest
— all designed to quiet Patti's anger at his betrayal, and to melt her heart.

If David Brown faced further peril now—and he did—it would be from Patti. Cinnamon could be written off as "evil" and a "flake," but if Patti should defect from his kingdom, David's version of his fifth wife's murder would vaporize.

David
knew
Patti—what she felt, what she thought, what she hoped for, what she feared, what she dreamed of. He himself had programmed many of those dreams into her mind. He played on that in his laboriously written letters.

Hello, Patti,

I hope you are doing well. I really wish I could see you and talk to you face to face. I could tell for myself that you are O.K.

David urged Patti to read the Bible, especially 1st Corinthians, Chapter 13, verses 1-13.
Particularly
verse 13. He even told her what page to look on in the jail Bible. Verse 13: "And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."

She was not sure what he was asking for. His letter was very kind, very friendly, very cautious.

I have been reading a lot of religious materials. I am relearning things I learned as a kid. Yes—I was a kid once. I truly hope you liked the cards and poems. A friend told me you weren't sure where a couple of things came from. Well, they came from my heart and my mind. Pretty sad—huh?

David concluded the letter by telling Patti she should let him know if his letters were irritating her, in which case he would stop writing.

A humble David was alien to his young wife. David was many things—but
never
apologetic and never humble. Patti wanted to believe that he had changed. But "charity"? Did that mean he wanted her to give him what he wanted most now—freedom?

Patti received two kinds of letters from David—as if he were really two entities, a split personality living in his jail cell: "David" and "Doug."

"Doug" was the lover. A different Doug from the one David had fabricated as Heather's father. This Doug was kind and loving. "David" was just David, working hard to convince Patti that he was on her side and that they must stick together. He underlined the word
family.
Patti had longed to be part of a real family her whole life.

Aware of Patti's distrust of him after she had heard his taped voice blaming her for the murder, David backpedaled smoothly. In another letter he wrote:

No one wanted to hurt you at all. There was no way to know that anyone but Cinnamon would hear those conversations. But you should know better than anyone that Cinny never liked you and that we have always told her what she wanted to hear. She had confessed to killing Linda at least a half dozen times with you there at visiting, so I didn't mean anything when I said those things. I was just trying to play along with whatever game she was playing this time.

David continued in the same vein, stressing his belief that Cinnamon was a thief. He was, once again, "programming" Patti with the information he wanted her to remember. He reminded her that Cinnamon had grown "violent" when he had told her he trusted Patti more than her. Cunningly, he tried to reel Patti back to him. She was the only one who mattered. "You were trusted as much as anyone else I ever knew—probably more." Referring to the tape where he blamed Patti for the murder, David assured Patti that he was lying to Cinnamon so she would not be angry with Patti.

David was a man with interchangeable masks. Whomever he was talking to or writing to at any given moment was the one he trusted, the one he loved. All others were traitors. He was cunningly persuasive both in person and on paper. David stressed to Patti that the Family—Krystal, Heather and David—could not bear to be separated from her. Cinny, however, was expendable.

Patti, we all love you—don't let them win! Don't you see that this is what they and Cinny both want? To separate us and make us hurt each other and drive us apart? ... I will come to your trial and explain in front of God and the world how I feel about you and why I lied to Cinny. I don't care if it hurts Cinny, my family, and your family. The only family that matters is ours.

Patti longed and needed desperately to believe the letters that came to her in the intra-jail mail. No one knew she and David were man and wife. He would not claim Heather as his own. Locked up, completely alone, Patti read David's words and "Doug" 's words and tried to believe.

Doug still wants to know about you too. He loves you, Patti, more than life itself. No past. Only future. Let your marriage grow. We can still be family. You are the only thing that makes losing Cinnamon seem not so bad. My parents know that you are a lot more of an honest loving person than Cinny ever could be. She is evil.

David encouraged Patti to think good thoughts, reminding her of good times ahead with the kids at the park to help her "through this baloney." And David held out more promises. His incarceration had forced him to have "control of my body." His colitis had been his excuse to stay home and refuse outings that Patti begged for. Now, he wrote, he could control both his bowels and his panic attacks. If she would only come back to him, he would take her and the little girls to the San Diego Zoo and to Sea World and to the park.

"Doug," the romantic persona, sent flowery cards with lovers walking into the sunset hand in hand.

Love is forgetting

and forgiving,

Love's a delight

the reason for living,

Love can exist in a smile

or a sigh,

Love is simple
—
you and I!

Love from,

Doug

by David

It was November 3, 1988, and David was getting antsy, despite his assurance that he had his panic attacks under control. Patti's short letters told him little about her state of mind; he looked for affirmation in them and found only suspicion.

His letters focused heavily on Krystal and Heather, on how much they
needed
Patti. Above all, David repeated that he would never testify against her—no matter what the authorities tried to do to him. He hinted that
he
was being offered "a deal" if he would testify against Patti.

"I swear to you, before GOD, I will do everything in my power to clear you and me. I pray you believe me. I swear Patti, I mean it. I'll do anything you want or need to help you!"

As his wife, Patti could not be forced to testify against him and could not reveal private marital discussions. That was good. However, if he
acknowledged
their marriage—and Heather—that might give Jay Newell and Jeoff Robinson more ammunition. Patti was still voicing her hurt at the interrogation tapes, and she would not tell him what he wanted to hear—that she would never testify against
him.

"Are you willing to testify for me?" he wrote finally. "You should know that neither one of us has bad things to say about the other—only good. At least, that's all I've got. ... Oh yeah, we can have our trials together, if you want! Do you? I might feel a lot better if you would. I'll ask my attorney. You ask yours."

David promised a new beginning, far from the ghosts of their past. They would move. Maybe to Oregon. Maybe Arizona. "A new life sounds great—to see new country—a little farm—animals—the kids playing. Happy."

"We fight together and win or lose together."

David pulled out all the stops—or rather, "Doug" did:

[Doug] knows that having to sneak around in order to be loving is what hurt your relationship together. But not anymore. . . . Doug says that since the attorneys will know, he will tell his family about you and him being married—O.K.? . . . Doug said, 'All I care about is our future together.' . . . Personally I can see in you the same things Doug does. Boy, does he ever think all the time about you, that's why I know how much he
loves you and means it!
You are: Loving, Caring, Thoughtful, Sharing, Warm, Mature, Sweet, Innocent, Pure and Beautiful. I can see also why he's so proud to have you as his wife. ... I think he's one of the Luckiest Guys on Earth.

And now finally, obscurely, David (as Doug) even accepted Heather. "Don't ever take her away from her father. She needs both parents, you know that yourself. Doug really Loves You and Heather more than
anything. "

"Doug" ended with a poem, part of which read:

Our Love is Not in the Past

It Is In The Future

Our Life Together is Not in the Past

It Too Is In The Future

With Love to Patti
From Doug

David began to sweat in earnest when Patti did not respond to
that
letter. Someone was messing with her mind; he was sure of it. And one morning in early November, David's worst imaginings were confirmed. That may have been the first time he fixed on Jeoff Robinson and Jay Newell as his most treacherous enemies.

That morning, there was to be an appearance in "West Court" (in Westminster, California) prior to the preliminary hearing. David was annoyed anyway because the buses pulled out of the Orange County jail for West Court at six in the morning, and he had to wait in a holding cell for more than three hours.

On that morning, David saw his wife for the first time since their arrest, and to his horror, Patti was talking to Jeoff Robinson and Jay Newell. He would have much preferred to see her chatting with the devil himself. He was afraid she would give away their marriage, which no one had yet discovered. No, it was more than that; without him to censor her, Patti had a tendency to say too much about everything.

For David Brown, who had not even wanted Patti influenced by school authorities, the thought that she was talking to the man who arrested him and the man who might one day prosecute him was maddening. The memory of the three of them talking ate away at his confidence in his hold over Patti—no matter that he could not hear what was said. They might undo everything he had accomplished in his letters.

Even so, David still believed he could bring Patti back with his words. He wrote to her on November 9, 1988, resorting to leverage that had never failed him—his imminent death.

Dear Patti,

I sure hope everything is OK. I hope you are getting my mail. I'm sending 1 or 2 letters a day and not getting anything back. If you don't want me to write—let me know.

David assured Patti that he was "going crazy" waiting to hear from her, wasting away from the misery of being in jail. He was losing a lot of weight, and he expected that he would probably die soon.

"The pain is unbearable," he told Patti. He said he prayed to God daily, hoping to be saved before his condition deteriorated further. "To tell the truth, I am proud and surprised I lasted this long. . . ."

David was as transparent as cellophane. He hinted that he had found a guy in jail who would help him commit suicide.

That will be pretty soon now. Wish me luck! . . . Maybe I'll be watching you guys grow from up there—I hope. Take care. God Bless,

David.

It was clearly a suicide threat, designed to twist the screws even deeper into Patti's conscience. But she did not respond. An astounded David was still alive and well three days later, bombarding Patti with letters.

He did not know that it was already far too late.

On November 7, 1988, at eleven in the morning, Patti Bailey, accompanied by her attorney, Don Rubright, had— at long last—begun to do exactly what David had repeatedly told her to do—"Take care of yourself."

Cinnamon's Halloween confession to Jay Newell was detailed and believable. If Patti's recall correlated with Cinnamon's, the prosecution case would gain credibility exponentially. Patti did not
have
to talk to the Orange County DA's team, and they had offered her nothing. But she was a woman on fire, betrayed beyond betrayal. She was ready to peel another layer off the cocoon that still shrouded the complete truth.

Jay Newell asked Patti to go back to 1985. "How old were you at that time?"

"I'd just turned seventeen."

"Sometimes it may hurt to say things—if it does," Newell said, "tell me it's hurting, but you have to say it anyway. Okay?"

"Okay."

Newell asked Patti to do the telling, to choose her own words. She was not a particularly verbal young woman, and the words came haltingly at first.

"David said that he needed help working in Randomex, and he recommended that I quit school and stay home with him and Linda and have me and Linda both finish our high school degree at home."

Patti had been living with David and Linda for five years by then. The situation in the home seemed like a "normal . . . pretty happy family." But David had begun to suggest to Patti that Linda was "changing," that she wouldn't go horsing around with them on ATVs anymore, and she wasn't much fun. "So it was always me, David, and Cinnamon.