achievements of its sons and daughters at Ada High and nearby Byng High, to the future professionals at East Central; the running underclass is acknowledged mostly by the police. Some never come in contact with the law; those who do are viewed by the authorities as the town’s inevitable quota of “trash.”
From this milieu came Jeff Miller’s information, which was not surprising to Dennis Smith; you don’t get tips on street crimes from the parsonage. Jeff Miller sat in police headquarters and told the detective that two young women in the town—he gave their names—had been at a party down by Blue River, about twenty-five miles south of Ada, on the night Denice Haraway disappeared; that the women had told him Tommy Ward had been at the party with a group that included a woman named Jannette Roberts; that midway through the party, with the beer supply running low, Tommy Ward had offered to go get some more; that he had borrowed Jannette Roberts’s pickup and left; that he had been gone for some time; and that when he returned he was crying. When asked why he was crying, he told friends he had gone back to Ada, had taken a girl from a store and had raped her and killed her; and now he felt terrible about what he had done.
All this Jeff Miller told the police. He had not been at the party himself, he said; his information had come from these two women, who said they had been there when it happened. Why the women would tell this to Jeff Miller, instead of to the police, remained unclear. So, too, was the question of why they would remain silent for five months, then speak of it.
The detectives asked Miller if he knew where Tommy Ward was. Miller said he had heard that Ward and his friend Karl Fontenot had been living in Norman with Jannette Roberts and her husband, but that Jannette had thrown them out because they weren’t contributing to the rent. He didn’t know where Ward was now, Miller said.
The detectives thanked Miller for coming in. This was only hearsay; proof might be a long way away. Still, for the first time in months, they had something to go on; they might solve the Haraway mystery after all.
The first step was to find the two women Jeff Miller had quoted, to get the story from them firsthand; they might also know where Tommy Ward was. But the women had moved from their last known address. They were part of the running underclass. Smith couldn’t locate them.
The next step was to contact Jannette Roberts. She had been at the party at Blue River, according to the Ada women as quoted by Jeff Miller; she had loaned Tommy Ward her pickup; she had kicked him out of her house; she might know where he had gone. Smith obtained an address for her in Norman. He tried to call her, to set up a meeting. She didn’t have a telephone.
On October 12, a Friday, Dennis Smith and Mike Baskin decided to drive to Norman, eighty miles away, to drop in on Jannette Roberts, to question her about the party at Blue River, about Tommy Ward. Though she was married to a fellow named Mike Roberts, in the minds of the detectives she was Jannette Blood. That was her name from a previous marriage. It was the name under which she had been convicted years before for forging a drug prescription, the name under which she had spent six years in prison.
As the detectives drove through the countryside, out Route 3W, the trees and woodlands were rich in their autumn colors: reds, yellows, oranges. The mood of the officers was equally bright with the excitement of the chase, of a possible solution after all these months. On the pecan trees beside the road, the husks were a deep brown; they soon would be ready for cracking.
Jannette Roberts was thirty-eight, a pretty woman with reddish-brown hair, but you could almost read the contours of her life in her face: three marriages, six children, two convictions for forging drug prescriptions, a six-year term for the second one. When she got out of prison in 1982, she
From this milieu came Jeff Miller’s information, which was not surprising to Dennis Smith; you don’t get tips on street crimes from the parsonage. Jeff Miller sat in police headquarters and told the detective that two young women in the town—he gave their names—had been at a party down by Blue River, about twenty-five miles south of Ada, on the night Denice Haraway disappeared; that the women had told him Tommy Ward had been at the party with a group that included a woman named Jannette Roberts; that midway through the party, with the beer supply running low, Tommy Ward had offered to go get some more; that he had borrowed Jannette Roberts’s pickup and left; that he had been gone for some time; and that when he returned he was crying. When asked why he was crying, he told friends he had gone back to Ada, had taken a girl from a store and had raped her and killed her; and now he felt terrible about what he had done.
All this Jeff Miller told the police. He had not been at the party himself, he said; his information had come from these two women, who said they had been there when it happened. Why the women would tell this to Jeff Miller, instead of to the police, remained unclear. So, too, was the question of why they would remain silent for five months, then speak of it.
The detectives asked Miller if he knew where Tommy Ward was. Miller said he had heard that Ward and his friend Karl Fontenot had been living in Norman with Jannette Roberts and her husband, but that Jannette had thrown them out because they weren’t contributing to the rent. He didn’t know where Ward was now, Miller said.
The detectives thanked Miller for coming in. This was only hearsay; proof might be a long way away. Still, for the first time in months, they had something to go on; they might solve the Haraway mystery after all.
The first step was to find the two women Jeff Miller had quoted, to get the story from them firsthand; they might also know where Tommy Ward was. But the women had moved from their last known address. They were part of the running underclass. Smith couldn’t locate them.
The next step was to contact Jannette Roberts. She had been at the party at Blue River, according to the Ada women as quoted by Jeff Miller; she had loaned Tommy Ward her pickup; she had kicked him out of her house; she might know where he had gone. Smith obtained an address for her in Norman. He tried to call her, to set up a meeting. She didn’t have a telephone.
On October 12, a Friday, Dennis Smith and Mike Baskin decided to drive to Norman, eighty miles away, to drop in on Jannette Roberts, to question her about the party at Blue River, about Tommy Ward. Though she was married to a fellow named Mike Roberts, in the minds of the detectives she was Jannette Blood. That was her name from a previous marriage. It was the name under which she had been convicted years before for forging a drug prescription, the name under which she had spent six years in prison.
As the detectives drove through the countryside, out Route 3W, the trees and woodlands were rich in their autumn colors: reds, yellows, oranges. The mood of the officers was equally bright with the excitement of the chase, of a possible solution after all these months. On the pecan trees beside the road, the husks were a deep brown; they soon would be ready for cracking.
Jannette Roberts was thirty-eight, a pretty woman with reddish-brown hair, but you could almost read the contours of her life in her face: three marriages, six children, two convictions for forging drug prescriptions, a six-year term for the second one. When she got out of prison in 1982, she
Similar Books
