Twisted Triangle (37 page)

Margo was in the second row behind the prosecution’s table for the last session that day, when, for the first and only time during the trial, she met eyes with Gene as he walked into the courtroom. He glared at her with an expression that said, “You piece of dirt, I’m not done with you yet.”

Afterward, as she was walking with the prosecutors back to their offi Jim said, “If they’re getting hung up on the little things, it means they’ve already decided on the big things.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” Margo asked.

“Quick decisions on the big charges are usually good decisions.”

Judge Potter excused the jury at 6:10 pm.

The next morning, the jury began deliberating again at 9:10.

Everyone was back in court at 4:35 pm, when the judge said he needed to correct some jury instructions. He excused the panel once more, and about half an hour later, the moment of truth fi nally arrived.

“The verdict’s in,” Jim said as he walked purposefully into the lobby, where Margo was pacing. “Let’s go.”

She couldn’t help but fear that the jury might let Gene off. “What if they let him go?” she asked Dianna. “I’m dead.” “That’s not going to happen,” Dianna replied.

Paul asked Margo if she was willing to speak to the media after the verdict. She consulted with Kathy Farrell, who said it was okay, but cautioned, “Don’t say anything that’s going to jeopardize the property hearing. I’ll signal you if I think it’s going too far.”

They met Edwin in the hallway and walked into the courtroom together. Edwin sat on the aisle, with Margo to his left and Dianna next to her, each of them hoping the jury would recommend a harsh punishment for Gene.

The media took their usual spot in the back, and Letta made it just in time to squeeze into the row behind Margo.

Margo had a clear view of the jury box, which was only a few feet away. She intentionally did not look at Gene as he walked in with his legal team, but focused rather on the members of the jury as they fi in and took their seats at 5:34 pm. All told, they had deliberated for twelve hours.

“I wanted that jury to be looking at me as the verdict was com-ing out,” she later said. “Whether I lived or died was in the hands of those people.”

The courtroom was quiet as the judge began to read the verdict on each charge.

Gene stood at the defense table, looking down as the judge read the jury’s findings. As the announcements continued, he whispered to his attorneys, but showed no emotion.

“In case number 39955, we, the jury, find the accused, Eugene Allen Bennett, guilty of abduction with the intent to deprive Albert [Edwin] Clever of his personal liberty, as charged in the indictment and affi his punishment at ten years. Signed, foreperson.”

Margo heard her sister whisper a loud, “Yes!” and immediately started feeling a sense of relief.

“We, the jury, fi the accused, Eugene Allen Bennett, guilty of use and display of a fi in the commission of a felony, as charged in the indictment, and affi his punishment at three years imprisonment.

“We, the jury, fi the accused, Eugene Allen Bennett, guilty of statutory burglary with a deadly weapon, as charged in the indictment, and affi his punishment at twenty years imprisonment.” As the guilty charges began to pile up, Margo felt her tension ease, as if air were slowly seeping out of a balloon. She didn’t have

to be so strong or fi any longer. It was over. Finally, over.

When the judge came to the attempted murder charge, one of the male jurors, who appeared to be in his early fi stared directly at Margo. As the judge said, “Guilty,” Margo mouthed “Thank you” to the juror, who simply nodded and looked away.

This was the vindication she’d been waiting for all those months before they fi charged Gene with trying to kill her.

After Judge Potter finished reading all nine charges, he announced that the sentencing would take place on May 15 at 9 am, then dismissed the jury.

Margo was so overcome with gratitude that she’d lost count of how many years the jury had recommended that Gene spend in prison, but she knew it was enough time that she felt safe again. She hugged Jim in an embrace that was featured on the front page of the next morning’s paper.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re welcome,” he said.

Detective Ron McClelland, who’d been adding up the sentences as the judge read off each charge, told Margo he’d counted sixty-one years.

“We’ll have to wait and see what the judge does at sentencing,” he said.

As the media started setting up their cameras for the press conference, Dianna hugged Margo, saying, “He’s not going to hurt you. He’s going to be gone for a long time.”

Margo and Paul put their arms around each other’s shoulders in a half-hug. “It was a good verdict,” he said.

Margo smiled and nodded.

After dozens of news stories had been written about her, Margo was ready to say a few words to the media.

The reporters started firing questions at her, repeatedly telling her to look into the camera.

“It’s a good start. We can relax for a while,” Margo told them. “I’m just happy to have this process over with. Obviously, I’m very relieved. I think that we can, we meaning the children and I, can relax for a while. I do feel there’s a future now.”

When the questions started moving toward Margo’s future, Kathy shook her head no.

“Folks, I need to go,” Margo said.

Margo, Letta, Dianna, and Kathy walked over to a pub near the courthouse for a celebratory drink.

“I wouldn’t let just any of my clients be interviewed by the TV reporters, but then you’re not just any of my clients,” Kathy said.

Margo laughed.

After Dianna drove her home, Margo realized that she was out of milk, so she went to 7–11 to get some. In the newsstand, she saw a photo of herself with her chin in her hand, and a blurry Dianna on the front page of the
Potomac News
. She bought a copy and took it home to show the girls.

That night, she fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Margo started reading the local paper again the next morning, although she waited a couple more weeks before she delved into the stories from earlier in the trial. She was surprised to see that Dr. Bishop had diagnosed Gene with an antisocial narcissistic personality.

Wow, that guy was right on
, she thought.
I can’t believe Gene’s own witness testifi to that. Gene is mean, and he doesn’t care about it
.

Two weeks after the verdict, Allison mailed the letter she’d written to her father back in November.

Dear Dad,

While you’re in jail, I want you to think about something: if you had killed mom, don’t you think we would feel the same way you did when you’re [
sic
] mom died? And also, how do you think I would feel if you had killed mom? Dad, obviously you didn’t think about that. Well I want you to think about it now. I am getting my hair cut up to my ears this Saturday. And now I am 5
¹
2
¹¹
tall. Dad, I really do want you to think about those things. And when you can come up with an answer, write it on a separate sheet of paper and use the backs so you don’t wast [
sic
] paper.

Your Daughter, Allison Akers Bennett

Gene wrote back promptly, addressing his comments to her and Lindsey. He said he was very happy to get Allison’s letter, complimenting her spelling and writing.

“You asked several complex and diffi questions. I cannot adequately address those questions in a letter,” he wrote. “I promise you both that when I see you, and you are old enough to understand the entire situation, I will answer all of your questions completely. Until then I want you both to live full and healthy lives and to enjoy each and every day to its fullest.”

In an apparent attempt to distract them from the questions he didn’t want to answer, he put forth his own set of questions—about

school and their favorite movies, TV shows, books, recreational activities, and foods. He asked them to send some recent photos as well as their latest report cards. He also expressed concern that they might succumb to peer pressure to use drugs and alcohol. In what would become his usual closing, he told them how much he loved them and asked them to write when they could.

He also enclosed a letter he’d sent earlier, in which he asked a number of other questions. “You are both wonderful young ladies and I have always been very proud of you,” he wrote. “I know that you are very confused over how things are, and have been since summer time. By the time you both get old enough to understand everything, I hope to have everything sorted out.”

Shortly after the trial, one of Gene’s neighbors came up to Margo in a bookstore, where she was fl through Frank Sina-tra CDs.

“Are you Margo, Allison and Lindsey’s mom? I can’t tell you how much I’ve been worried about you.”

The woman said she’d never really trusted Gene and had al-ways felt something wasn’t quite right about him.

“Are the girls okay?” she asked. “They’re doing very well,” Margo said. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“Sure.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Margo found the exchange a little strange, but nice. She didn’t even know the woman’s name.

Dianna called in early April with a message from Patsy, who used this indirect form of communication because Margo had suggested that they have no contact after the kidnapping in 1993. There was a story just out in
Vanity Fair
, featuring an interview with Patsy that talked in some depth about their affair, and Patsy wanted to warn Margo that the article included some comments

the writer had taken out of context. Patsy hadn’t meant for them to sound offensive.

On April 9, newspapers across the country ran wire stories with highlights from the article, which was published in the magazine’s May issue.

Margo went out and bought a copy of
Vanity Fair
the day after Dianna’s call. The article left her feeling sad and disappointed. She felt particularly hurt by a comment that was excerpted in other publications, including
The Advocate
, a national gay magazine: “It wasn’t even two trips over the rug, as we say here. . . . It was very brief in every way you can imagine.”

Margo was surprised to see such a callous comment coming from Patsy. It sounded as if their interactions were nothing more to Patsy than casual sex, that they meant nothing to her. The Patsy she’d known was never that crass.

“It was so stupid of me! So reckless,” Patsy said of their af-fair. “I mean, here she was, a married woman! With two children! This whole thing with Margo—Margo and I just didn’t know each other that well.

“If I broke up their marriage, it was only because at one point I told her if she didn’t get away from him he would probably kill her,” Patsy said, a comment that Margo remembered making herself the day they’d talked down by the reservoir at Quantico.

Looking back later, Margo said, “I was a bit stunned, and did it hurt my feelings? Yes. Did I spend time dwelling on it? No.”

Margo had been praying since the verdict that the judge would do the right thing at the sentencing hearing.

“My prayer was that Gene would be in jail for a long, long time and that I wouldn’t have to go through this again. Ever,” she said.

The night before the hearing, Margo was exhausted, yet she woke up around 4:30 am and couldn’t get back to sleep.

She spoke to God out loud as she drove to the courthouse, say-ing she didn’t want to be afraid anymore. She didn’t want to die

at Gene’s hand in a third attack. And she didn’t want her children to live with the horror and the torment that their father had killed their mother. She prayed that the judge had kept an open mind and would confi the jury’s recommended sixty-one-year sentence, but she knew that this was ultimately in God’s hands.