If You Only Knew (6 page)

CHAPTER 11

A.J. DESMOND & SONS
on Crooks Road, a major thoroughfare cutting through the city of Troy, intersecting with the Chrysler Expressway, has the predictable look of a funeral home: its redbrick outer shell, white Romanesque columns lining the front entrance from ground to roof and its lavishly plush green lawn and lavish landscaping, with each blade of grass and boxwood bush clipped to utter perfection. This was where the dead lay in a state of repose while their loved ones come to pay final respects. Make no mistake, in the Troy region, A.J. Desmond has provided its first-rate services to those in grief throughout this community for over a century. Terence B. Desmond himself had signed off on Don's death certificate as the funeral service licensee when Don's body came in for its final examination and grooming. Interestingly, with regard to Don's death certificate, it had been signed by Desmond, Dr. Ortiz-Reyes and the Troy medical examiner, Dr. Dragovic, on August 12, 2000—yet, it would not be filed until August 17, 2000.

Don's wake took place a few days after his death. All considering, Don didn't look that bad lying in his casket all made-up, wearing his best Sunday suit. For many attending Don's wake, it was a celebration of his long and prosperous life. Most thought of Don as a good guy, someone who gave to his community, helped out the less fortunate when he could, but had kept to himself and, for the most part, left other people alone. In the end, a man shouldn't be judged by how much he drank. Don Rogers was a person of immense gratitude and humble beginnings, who appreciated what he had in life.

Toni Brosseau had worked for Don Rogers and his business partner, Don Kather, for the past sixteen years. She knew Rogers quite well and could vouch for how nice of a guy he was. She had seen Don Rogers, in fact, at about 2:00
P.M.
on the day he died. Toni was the heartbeat of the company. Whenever Rogers prepared to leave the office for the day, he always made a point to stop by Toni's desk and bid her a fond good night. As it turned out, Don had spent about six hours at the office that Friday, August 11. To Toni, Rogers looked and appeared fine. He had no markings on his face or lips. He wasn't complaining about anything in particular, and he spoke of going home and staying put for the weekend. The last thing she would have expected to hear would be that Don had gone home and drank himself into oblivion, passed out and dropped dead on the kitchen floor. Don was the type of guy that went to work every day. He might not have stayed in the office all day long, and everyone knew he loved to watch television while in his office, but he showed up at 8:30
A.M.
every day and did his work.

As Toni arrived for the wake and filed into A.J. Desmond & Sons, along with the line of mourners, she thought about her old boss. There was one conversation Toni had with Billie Jean the week before Don passed that now felt kind of strange to Toni as she went back and considered it. Billie Jean had called and asked to speak with Toni, instead of her husband.

“Mrs. Rogers, hi,” Toni said. It was rather surprising to be talking to “the boss's wife.” Toni had made a habit of not getting involved. But here it was, Billie Jean calling, looking to ask Toni a few questions.

“Toni, I need to know something,” she said up front, holding little back. She sounded serious, but also anxious and maybe pissed off a little, too. “Has Don ever been improper with you in any way?”

It was altogether shocking and bizarre, this sudden accusation out of nowhere. Toni had met Billie Jean only a few times. She'd never heard from Don about any problems he and his wife might have had.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Rogers?” Toni asked.

“A pass . . . Don ever made a
pass
at you, Toni?”

“My goodness, no. No, Mrs. Rogers. Never.”

This call had come right around the time Vonlee had mentioned to her aunt about Don and what happened when Billie Jean was away in California. That I-got-something-on-you-now charge Billie Jean had allegedly made to Don after walking out of the room and coming back to find Don on top of Vonlee. Apparently, if he'd done it to Vonlee, Billie Jean must have been thinking, maybe he'd done it at the office, too. It seemed Mrs. Rogers was in the mood to get all she could on her husband.

“Well, he's made advances toward Miss Titlow and . . . ,” Billie Jean started to say to Toni.

“No, no, Mrs. Rogers,” Toni insisted. “Not me. Not ever. He never, never, ever has done anything. He's never even used four-letter words around me. He is always a gentleman.”

Billie Jean talked about Don's health. Toni had no idea how sick Don might have been. Still, Billie Jean mentioned to Toni, “He's been having problems with rectal bleeding lately—did you know
that
?”

“No, I did not,” Toni said, wondering why this woman felt the need to share such personal information with her. “But maybe you ought to get him to see a doctor, Mrs. Rogers.”

“He won't go. He just won't do it,” Billie Jean said.

The two exchanged some small talk and hung up.

* * *

Scott Hadley (pseudonym), Billie Jean's future son-in-law, had never met Don or Vonlee, but he was in town from his home in Illinois, along with Billie Jean's daughter, to pay his respects. Scott had just asked Billie Jean's daughter to marry him in the weeks before Don had died. He was part owner in a software development firm in Illinois. He had some experience in finances and financial security, he and his wife-to-be explained to Billie Jean at the wake. Scott even offered to help the family wade through what could be temperamental financial waters after someone died unexpectedly.

The widow introduced Scott to Don's brother and sister. Then she found Vonlee and introduced him to her.

“We had just a small conversation,” Scott said later. “Typical to what you would have with various people at a wake—just small talk about the family.”

Someone at the wake suggested that Scott sit at some point with Don's immediate family and Billie Jean to discuss Don's finances and what should be done with what was a rather large bank account he had left behind. It was unclear later on about who had actually suggested the meeting. But in any event, as of August 2000, Don's net worth was valued at $1,778,603.11. Eighty-nine percent of that was in investments, with 1 percent available as cash, the remaining 10 percent or so being part of Don's fixed monthly/yearly income.

The guy had a nest egg, no doubt about it. Billie Jean was clearly looking to get this taken care of as soon as possible. She had to pay bills, run the household and make sure Don's partnership in the company was being fairly represented. She couldn't just curl up in a ball and be the grieving widow. That would not serve anybody well. And, to be honest, it had never been her way of dealing with problems and tragedy.

“I can help you,” Scott told his future mother-in-law. “I lost my father several years ago, and having gone through it myself with my mom, I can assist you in everything. Help organize the finances.... I know the process.”

Scott went on to explain that there was a lot of work involved in hunting down life insurance policies, getting Social Security documents changed, bank accounts situated, speaking with the financial institutions Don had his money invested in and anything else involved in trying to figure out a dead man's finances and how the family could do what was in his (and now their) best interests.

What could she say? The offer seemed to be a welcoming gesture. Billie Jean agreed—she was all for it. She definitely needed the help.

They would meet in the coming days, she said, and get it all situated.

Over in another part of the room, her daughter, Vanette Vereeke, whose father Billie Jean had been married to before Don (one of two marriages for Billie Jean before she met Don), ran into Vonlee. The last time she had seen Vonlee, Vonlee was a child. Vanette, like pretty much everyone else in her family, considered Vonlee eccentric and maybe even a little over-the-top in the way she dressed, did her makeup, walked and talked. Vonlee was a presence, certainly. There was some narcissism in there, too, with Vonlee always looking to be the focus and center of attention. There were reasons for this beyond Vonlee being a Southern belle and simply wanting and needing constant praise. But on this night, as they all celebrated Don's life and paid homage to him in mourning, Vanette noticed something else about Vonlee as she approached: Vonlee was wearing an enormous amount of what looked to be brand-new jewelry.

“Rings and bracelets, like diamonds,” Vanette said later.

So much that it stood out among a crowd of people.

One ring in particular was of great interest to Vanette and some of the other women who were standing around and talking during the wake.

“Wow,” Vanette said, staring at Vonlee's finger, “you're engaged?”

Vonlee had known the guy she was dating only about a month. He had given her the ring, though they were not engaged officially. She told him she was not ready to get married. He told her to keep the ring, anyway, and “maybe it will change” her mind. The diamond was huge. Vonlee said she'd be crazy not to accept it. She wore it on her wedding ring finger.

Several other women came and stood around as Vonlee and Vanette discussed the ring.

“Look at that ring, Vonlee. It's very noticeable.”

Vonlee, who was obviously distraught and cooked up on pills and booze while at the wake, took the ring off and passed it to Vanette, who put it on and held it out in front of herself. “My goodness . . .” As were the other women, she was impressed with the sheer size of the thing. She took it off and gave it to another woman standing in the circle.

“They were all passing it around, like girls do,” Vanette said later.

“Look at this . . . ,” one woman said.

“Incredible,” envied another.

“Lucky girl . . .”

As Vanette worked her way around the room, she walked over to where her mother was talking to a few people.

“Yeah, I came home around eleven and he was dead on the floor,” her mother told the group, according to what Vanette later claimed.

The call to 911 did not come until around 4:00
A.M
.

Her mother was being herself, her daughter later explained, while schmoozing with people at the wake. Her mom was very skilled in adversity. She could take a bad situation and enter into it with a straight face and generally a positive attitude. She was an expert at meeting stressful situations and handling them. People wanted to know what happened to Don, Billie Jean surmised—and so she was going to be open and honest and tell them what she knew. She didn't want people arriving or leaving with any sort of misinformation. That would only feed rumors.

“She could appear to have everything under control,” one family member later said of her. “She didn't appear to be visually upset, but I'm sure inside her heart she was.”

Well into calling hours, Billie Jean found Vonlee sitting down by herself over in a corner. Vonlee was crying.

“I can't do this,” Vonlee said, looking up.

Billie Jean stared at her. She looked around to make sure no one was listening to them.

“I was so out of it at that point,” Vonlee later recalled, thinking back. “I could not even function. I was so sick.” The situation, as Vonlee saw it then, was strikingly opposite to what she had been used to ever since moving in with her aunt and uncle. When Vonlee first got to the house, she noticed her aunt was depressed and always angry, down and out, lying around a lot, sleeping late, not doing much of anything. Vonlee, meanwhile, was a ball of fire like her old party self, wanting to go out and own the night. Now, after Don's death, it was as if they had changed places. “I became depressed and docile as Billie became lively and always up.”

Billie Jean became agitated, according to Vonlee. “Stand up,” she said, grabbing Vonlee by the shoulders.

“Billie, I . . . I . . . ,” Vonlee started to say before breaking down crying.

“You
have
to pull yourself together,” her aunt said. “Or you are going to have to leave right now.”

CHAPTER 12

BILLIE JEAN AND VONLEE
were at the Rogers household. It was midafternoon, August 17. “Vonlee, where are you?” Billie Jean said, looking for her niece inside the house. “Vonlee?” she yelled.

Vonlee was upstairs. “What is it?”

“Come with me, I want to go somewhere.”

That afternoon, the two found themselves perusing the lot at Suburban Oldsmobile and Cadillac Buick on Maplelawn Drive in Troy. Don had not been dead a week and Billie Jean had her eye on a brand-new, flashy, fully loaded Cadillac. She'd always wanted one. Don would never part with the money. Now was her chance.

Ultimately, she chose a Cadillac Seville Touring Sedan (STS).

“Can we take it out for a ride?” the newly minted widow asked the salesperson.

She and Vonlee were gone for about fifteen minutes. When they returned, Billie Jean was all smiles. She said she wanted a sunroof put in and also “OnStar, with a one-year subscription.”

Done and done, said the salesperson.

She also wanted the dealer rebate that was being offered.

“You got it!”

With a deal in place, Billie Jean took out her checkbook, wrote a check for one hundred dollars and handed it to the salesman. “I'll take it. When can you have it ready?”

“I'll call you,” he said.

Four days later, on August 21, 2000, the dealer called to tell her that the car was all set; she could pick it up.

She arrived sometime later, once again with Vonlee. She handed over a cashier's check for the balance: $50,676. 80. This money was paper to Billie Jean, it appeared. The way she had been spending since Don's death was in itself a sign of a woman either in desperate and severe grief and mourning, or someone who had no concept of money. In the days before his death, Don Rogers was very active with his Merrill Lynch accounts, buying stocks and bonds and growth funds, working with his money to insure it continued to grow. And yet, no sooner did he pass away, than his widow began selling off the stocks and bonds in big numbers. Just days before showing up to buy the Cadillac, for example, four days after Don had died, she sold ten thousand dollars' worth of funds, of which she would be penalized for selling off early. What's more, between August 17 and the week after, Billie Jean had one hundred seventy thousand in cash transferred by wire to her bank accounts. In addition, on the day she bought the Caddy, she made a thirteen-hundred-dollar purchase at U.S. Jewelers, a store that Vonlee's boyfriend owned. In the days following that, she made another four-hundred-dollar purchase at U.S. Jewelers and spent upward of nearly two thousand dollars on clothes.

It certainly seemed Billie Jean was celebrating Don's death and couldn't wait until he was out of the picture. Yet, when one took a close look at the credit card statement Billie Jean and Don shared over the past year, what emerged was a woman who liked to spend her husband's money all along. She had withdrawn thousands upon thousands of dollars in cash advances at two places: the MGM Grand and Motor City casinos in Detroit. Many times, on the same night, she'd withdraw five hundred dollars, which came with a $30.99 transaction fee, or one thousand dollars, which came with a $51.99 transaction fee. In many instances throughout the year leading up to Don's death, the transaction fees alone every month added up to thousands of dollars. Reading the statements, studying the times and dates, you could almost see her walking up to the window for the cash advance, telling herself,
This is it ... last time tonight
—only to be back at the window an hour or two later after blowing through the five hundred or one thousand dollars. Don had a twelve-thousand-dollar limit on the shared card, and it was a good thing. Because as the year 2000 came, and Billie Jean continued to gamble, she'd hit that limit or close to it every month. It's clear that she hardly
ever
won any money. She was constantly withdrawing.

Don had taken lots of pride in his net worth. As a businessman, he had worked his ass off all his life to build it up, bolstering it with investments, until it grew into an amount he could retire comfortably with. Now his money was fading away at what seemed to be an uncontrollable pace. With no one there to monitor it or pester her about it, Billie could not get a handle on her spending in those days after Don's death.

While walking the lot, looking to buy Billie Jean's Caddy, Vonlee had spotted a Buick Riviera she liked. As they drove back to the dealer to pick up the Caddy, Billie Jean said, “You want me to buy you that car, Vonlee?”

Vonlee was a mess. She'd been back to drinking heavily and taking pills; she wanted to forget about what had happened to Don. In her mind, she kept going back to that night they returned to the house:
What actually happened? What could I have done?

“Come on,” Billie Jean added, “let me buy you that car. It'll make you feel better.”

“I don't think anything is going to make me feel better,” Vonlee said.

Billie Jean pulled into the dealer parking lot.

“I'm telling you, Von, just let me buy you a car—it will make you feel better. Pick out whatever you want.”

Vonlee thought about it. “Okay,” she said.

The Riviera Vonlee had eyed days before was still in the lot. The salesman asked Vonlee if she was still interested. He'd noticed Vonlee looking at the vehicle.

“We are,” Vonlee said. After all, she did not have any money.

It was a used vehicle. When Billie Jean was finished inside the finance office, she walked out to where Vonlee and the salesman stood talking.

“She wants it,” Billie Jean said.

When they returned to the lot to pick up the Riviera, Vonlee had a check for $19,834.90. The salesman looked at it. Billie Jean's name was on the check.

“You okay with this?” he asked, just to make sure. She was standing next to Vonlee.

“Of course,” she answered. To Vonlee: “Now you forget about everything, you hear me? Just forget it happened. Pretend it never happened, Von.”

The salesman stood and watched as Billie Jean drove away in her new Cadillac, with Vonlee following right behind in her used white Riviera.