Mr. Vasquez:
Having written so much about the Hall and Norton families you should know that I suspect a campaign is being waged against people involved in the crash by a woman calling herself Liv Danger and that woman is really Perri Hall, who blames the world for her son’s death instead of blaming herself, as she should.
She attacked Jane Norton at her son’s grave (see attached video, posted to Faceplace). Her son’s gravestone had ALL WILL PAY written on it. I think she did that to take suspicion off herself.
Brenda Hobson, who was a responding paramedic at the crash, had her house burned down. The surrounding houses were burned down as well. There was no reason for anyone to target Ms. Hobson, and the burning of the other houses was done as a cover, easy since they were all unoccupied. Gasoline and rags in bottles are not hard to do.
Shiloh Rooke, the other paramedic, had film of an embarrassing personal nature taken from his home and mailed to his girlfriend. Again, not a hard thing to do if you follow or watch someone for a few days to determine who is important to them and what their weakness might be.
Randy Franklin, the private investigator hired by the Halls after the crash, has left town and shut down his office this week. Try calling him; his voice mail greeting now says he’s closing his office. See if he talks to you. See if phone records show that Perri Hall called him this week.
You might also check her computer history to see what Faceplace pages her computer accessed at certain interesting times.
If I were Jane Norton, the person Perri Hall blames most, I would be scared.
Maybe you should write about that.
“You can’t be serious,” Perri said. She took a sip of the Virgin Mary and pushed the e-mail back to him. “That’s a hatchet job with no proof.”
“If I call these people and talk to them, and ask them about this, what do you think they’ll say? There is a pattern here.”
“My husband talked to the Hobson woman,” she said, but as soon as she said the phrase, she realized it sounded haughty, unkind—like someone who might indeed blame others for the misfortune of her life. This was a woman who tried to save her son’s life. Vasquez looked at her like he was thirsty for her words. “I mean…he talked to Ms. Hobson. He drove down there with Jane Norton and talked to her. So, if I were doing this, as this ridiculous letter claims, I don’t think my husband would be going and talking to the supposed targets.”
“Are you still married? I heard you filed for divorce.”
“I did, but it’s not final yet. Nothing is final.”
“Ah.”
“I am not waging some battle.”
“You attacked Jane Norton.”
“I had no idea that she would be there. I couldn’t plan that. These other crimes, they took planning. It doesn’t fit together.”
“That’s a pretty weak defense.”
“And this is an asinine accusation to make against a grieving mother.” She stood. “I’m not going to listen to any more.”
“I’m going to talk to Hobson and Rooke and try to find Franklin. As well as the other sources from back then. If there’s no story, there’s no story. But if there is, well, it’s a huge one. You sure you don’t want to talk to me?”
“I have nothing to say about this, Matteo.” She softened her tone, although every bone in her body was thrumming with anger. “Someone is setting me up. I’m not doing this. I’m not capable of it.”
“The video.”
“That was a moment’s madness. You don’t have children; you don’t know what it’s like.”
“I seem to remember the Nortons saying that the suicide note couldn’t be real, either. Not a real indication of Jane’s mental health.”
She took a deep breath. “Hardly comparable.”
“Oh, I think someone wants me to compare them.”
A new fear crept its way up her spine. “Are you going to go to the police with this?”
“No. Not yet. I don’t have any evidence of any connection. Only a pattern. A pattern’s not enough.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, if I found evidence, I’d have to be a responsible citizen.”
“Please don’t do this. Please.”
“I’m giving you a chance to comment on the record, Mrs. Hall.”
“Then I’ll say I did not do this. I haven’t.”
“Then who do you think did?”
She had a decided opinion on that. “I don’t know. Like you said, it would take evidence. We don’t even know if there’s a connection. But I’d trace that e-mail if I were you. Whoever is accusing me is most likely the guilty party. Ask yourself why they didn’t sign it or send it from an account that would tell you who they are.”
“Maybe they’re afraid.”
“Of me?”
Matteo Vasquez watched her. “May I call you for quotes if I find additional information?”
She nodded. “But this isn’t anything that leads to me. You’re wasting your time.”
“I have a lot of it to waste.”
Pay him, she thought. Pay him not to write the story. He’s giving you a hint to make this go away. “I’m sorry to hear you’ve fallen on hard times.”
He shrugged.
How did you bribe someone? She had no idea. Cal would know how to do this. She wanted to ask him, but she didn’t want Cal to know. He’d say, Bad idea, it will blow over. Well, he wasn’t being accused of being a nut.
He watched her. She fidgeted. “Did you want to tell me something, Mrs. Hall?”
No. She wouldn’t pay him. It would only make things worse for her to offer. “No. But maybe I’ll find out who is behind this, and then that’s your story. Someone terrorizing a woman who lost her son. Will that get enough clicks to feed you and house you?”
He didn’t answer.
She left, and tried to slam the door of the nearly deserted bar, but it was the kind that shut itself slowly. The daylight was harsh against her eyes and she stumbled to her car.
Her phone buzzed. Three text messages. All from friends, all saying, You should check Faceplace. And I’m so sorry.
Fingers trembling, she did. The video of her grabbing Jane and hauling her toward the grave had…exploded across Faceplace. What was the word she’d heard used at work: viral? Someone she knew had shared it to their page, more had followed, until a gossipy news site with ten thousand followers did so and it began to be widely shared. Blogs and online articles had been written about it, not always accurate. People had started leaving comments on her own page: You’re horrible.
Don’t blame you, I’d have half beaten that girl, too, if she killed my son.
I understand she was in the car wreck with your son, but this is wrong. You need to find Jesus, He will bring you peace.
She shouldn’t be visiting your son’s grave, give her a punch for me.
Wrong. Even if you’re grieving, this is wrong. As a mother you know this. Did it bring your son back? Did it make you feel better? Get some help.