Perfect Poison (48 page)

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Authors: M. William Phelps

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Gilbert, apparently, didn't feel the same shame.
 
 
What Tim later told me about Cullen had already proven itself to me as I embarked on my book tour to discuss
Perfect Poison,
back in 2003. I met with several patients who claimed to have had a run-in with Gilbert—that she had poisoned them. I was given dramatic documents. I heard countless anecdotal narratives of chilling scenes involving Gilbert and a patient, with Gilbert trying to poison him or her. Children of possible Gilbert victims sought me out and handed me photos of their loved ones, telling me they believed Gilbert, their family member's nurse at one time, killed their family member. They were certain of it. I looked into the eyes of many family members, felt their pain, and understood their frustrations at getting nowhere with the hospitals in question. Ultimately I could only say sorry, there's not much I can do at this point.
I was told Gilbert had been assaulting patients and poisoning them as far back as her first nursing gig at a Massachusetts hospital I do not wish to name. Time and again, I was told, Gilbert was continually around when cardiac arrests occurred. She always seemed to be there when a patient went from bad to worse to death.
After the book came out and I had heard countless stories of Gilbert trying to kill people, I asked one of the medical investigators hired to look at Gilbert's entire history at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center (VAMC) in Leeds to give me a number. He had studied all of the documents pertaining to Gilbert's work history there in Leeds. He knew these records better than anyone.
I was told well over one hundred.
There is no way to prove this, of course. Nor is there any way to prove that all of the stories I heard from broken and frustrated family members are true.
But I ask myself: Am I comfortable with this number? I have thought about this and thought about this for years now, even going back to my boxes and boxes of research to see if I overlooked something or there's an answer somewhere somebody missed.
When I give talks about Kristen Gilbert, I say I think she's killed more than one hundred. I don't think Gilbert, like Cullen, even knows the number. And none of us will ever know unless we exhume all of those bodies.
Acknowledgments
Working on a book like this, one meets a variety of people from all walks of life. Although a few of my encounters were hostile, the majority of the people I met were kind, and helpful in a number of ways.
There is, naturally, a long list of people for whom thanking would be impossible, along with many more who assisted me in a variety of ways but choose to remain anonymous. I want to say that I was overwhelmed by the respect, consideration and sincerity many of you demonstrated. Thank you.
I am indebted greatly to, specifically, four people. I cannot name you, but you certainly know who you are. Over a period of weeks and months, we spoke for hours about the VAMC, nursing, law, medical issues and, of course, Kristen Gilbert. Please know that you have my deepest appreciation and gratitude. The time you gave me, the honesty and insight you brought to this book, along with your ability not to be influenced by what others thought of your coming forward to talk, made all the difference. I could not have written this book without you.
In no specific order, I would like to take this opportunity to thank some of those who helped with the book, along with some who did not:
To William Acosta, a true hero in world that is seemingly overflowing with them today: I salute you, sir. Every American owes you part of their freedom. You have put away more trash than any lawman I have ever met, known or read about. You got me started in the business of writing books—and I can
never
thank you enough for that.
David Perkins (a lifelong friend and brother), Susan Lessard, Trina Taylor, Peter Sauer, Laura Sauer, Victoria Getis, from the University of Massachusetts (for helping me locate Lizzie Borden's complete family history), and all those at the Forbes Library (in Northampton) who were helpful, kind and patient as I sat for hours doing research.
Springfield Federal Court Clerk John Stuckenbruck; a very special thanks to Court Reporter Alice Moran; guards at the Springfield Federal Building: Mike and Mike, Bob and Bob, Brendon, John, Jim, and Al; the US Marshal's Office, and all those in the US Attorney's Office who showed me hospitality.
Special Agent Steve Plante (you are a cut above the rest, sir, and a credit to your profession); Massachusetts State Police Detective Kevin Murphy (the world could use a few more cops with the passion and determination you have for solving crimes); Dr. Michael M. Baden; US attorneys Bill Welch and Ariane Vuono; a very special thanks to Legal Secretary Lorraine Simpson (for locating and photocopying the endless array of documents associated with this case); retired Illinois Highway State Patrol Lieutenant Garry Rice, a man whose knowledge of the criminal mind is, without question, useful to me in more ways than I can say; and the jurors who helped me understand how emotionally taxing sitting on a jury can be.
J.G. (the music); R.K. (the song); A.R. and N.D.W. (the books); my students throughout the years; Josephine and Louis Castellassi; JulieAnn Charest, my editor at
New England Entertainment Digest;
Danny Lemay, my first editor (for not laughing years ago at those terribly written early stories);
Boston Globe
reporter Thomas Farragher (for heading me in the right direction early on).
Of course, my loving mother, Florence Borelli, and her husband, Thomas Borelli, my brothers: Thomas Phelps, Frank Phelps and Mark Phelps; my nephews Mark Jr. and Tyler Phelps; Allison Atwood (for, years ago, listening); my father, Frank Phelps, and his wife, Mary. Frank Mauri and John Brand from Dynamic Technologies, LLC (for resuscitating my computer's hard-drive on several occasions); Ruth, Tom, Laura, and Alexandra Stalgehtis; Martha Brazauskas; Gunther “John Kava” Brazaukas; former Kensington Publishing Corp. senior editor Karen Haas (for pulling this story out of the pile and bringing it to life); Norris Hawkins; Jim Barakos and “the boys” (Bob Hruskocy and Bob Kayan) at Adcom Express in Hartford, Connecticut.
Gregg Olsen and Harvey Rachlin, who believed in me when they didn't even know me.
Editor-in-chief at Kensington, Michaela Hamilton, and senior editor Johnny Crime for their sage advice, understanding, and tender care with my words. I am blessed to be able to work with such wonderfully talented and dedicated people. I have the utmost respect for you both.
A special thanks to Dr. Richard Orris, who helped me understand some of the more complex medical issues involved in the book; and Dr. Sam Vaknin (for his endless well of information about those who suffer from Narcissistic Personality Disorder).
My literary agent, Jim Cypher, from The Cypher Agency (for sticking behind me all those years, teaching me how to write, and working all those extra hours). I am lucky to have met such a great man who has not only become my good friend, but an agent I thought never existed.
If there is anyone I've overlooked, I apologize; it wasn't intentional.
Lastly, my wife, Regina, and my children, April, Jordon and Mathew (for never questioning my dreams and goals, for allowing me the time to investigate and write, for not putting any limitations on me, and for accepting the fact that it takes a lot of time away from us to do what I do). With every ounce of my soul, I love you.
Kristen Strickland, 16, in her 1984 high-school yearbook photo.
(Courtesy Groton-Dunstable Regional High School yearbook)
Gilbert, 25, in 1992, looked every bit the “soccer mom.”
(Courtesy Rachel Webber)
Gilbert, 27, in 1994, less than a year before she started her killing spree.
(Courtesy Rachel Webber)
Kristen Gilbert living it up at a 1995 Halloween party. By this time, Gilbert had already killed one of her patients.
Since 1924, the 197-bed Veterans Affairs Medical Center (VAMC) in Leeds, Massachusetts, has served the needs of over 600,000 patients.
The back entrance to Building One, where Ward C was located.
Shortly before her killing spree began, Gilbert began an extramarital affair with VAMC security guard James Perrault.
Perrault later realized his dream of becoming a “real” cop.
(Courtesy Hatfield Police Department Web site)
The Michael C. Curtain VFW in downtown Florence, Massachusetts, was a popular after-work hangout for the Ward C staff.
The Drewson Drive home in Florence, Massachusetts, where Kristen Gilbert lived with her husband, Glenn.
The Easthampton, Massachusetts, apartment where Gilbert moved after she left her husband was only two miles from her boyfriend James Perrault's apartment.
Inside Kristen Gilbert's apartment, investigators found a book that clearly outlined adverse reactions to epinephrine.
In the pantry of Kristen and Glenn Gilbert's home, investigators found this copy of the
Handbook of Poisoning
.

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