Calling himself the Jesse Ventura of Durham politics, Michael Peterson paid a filing fee of $156.70 and became a candidate for the office of mayor on August 5, 1999. Peterson was one of five contenders on the ballot vying for the position in an October 5 primary. The two top vote-getters would then go head-to-head in a general election on November 2.
The leader of the pack was 48-year-old Nick Tennyson, the incumbent mayor. He had won the seat in 1997 against four other candidates. In addition to serving as mayor, he was the executive vice president of the Home Builders Association of Durham and Orange Counties.
Brenda Burnette, a city councilwoman representing Ward I was the first person to file on July 2. The 50-year-old single African-American mother had announced her intentions to run in January soon after she had been evicted from her publicly subsidized housing for failure to pay rent. When it came to her fellow candidate, Michael Peterson, she carried a big chip on her shoulder. He often referred to her and her fellow city councilmen
as “dwarfs” in his columns. And he singled her out as “brain challenged.”
58-year-old Ralph McKinney, Jr., filed the same day as Peterson. He was a familiar face at the meetings of the city council and the county commissioners. Although he had never held public office, this was not his first foray into a political race. He finished third in the Democratic primary for U.S. Senate in 1996 and garnered 520 votes in the mayoral primary race in 1997. He was vocal on issues of racism and sexismâeven calling out NBA star Michael Jordan on accusations of discrimination against black customers at his automobile dealerships.
Floyd McKissick, a self-employed attorney, rounded out the list of choices for mayor. The 43-year-old African-American had served on the city council since 1993. His current term was set to expire in 2001. That summer, he had come under fire for a trip he had taken to his alma mater in New England at city expense. With degrees from Duke, Harvard and the University of North Carolina, coupled with his political experience, this Durham native sold himself as the most experienced candidate.
It was a lot of competition for a demanding part-time job that paid only $15,362 per year. At least three of the candidates spent more than twice the annual salary for this two-year job during their campaigns.
To avoid any conflicts of interest
The Herald-Sun
pulled Michael Peterson's columns from their pages after his
announcement to run. The candidate responded by purchasing ad space to run his column on Friday each week in the Durham section of the paper. He also posted the weekly column on his Web site.
The site was designed and maintained by a Durham newcorner, Guy Seaberg, a former federal prosecutor and private attorney in Maine. He came to North Carolina in July 1999 after suffering a major setback in court the month before.
Seaberg took on a civil case for Lori D'Amico. He missed key filing dates and, despite numerous warnings from the court, continued to tell his client that all was well. D'Amico's case was thrown out of court because of these late filings and she sued Seaberg.
Maine Superior Court Judge Thomas R. Warren found Seaberg liable for breach of contract, professional negligence and breach of fiduciary responsibility. He awarded Lori D'Amico $1.1 million in actual damages and punitive damages of $25,000. D'Amico said that Seaberg moved to North Carolina where his wages could not be garnished on this judgment.
Peterson ran a tough, no-nonsense campaign, gathering new supporters every day. Fifty-nine percent of his campaign coffer of over $37,000 came from small donors who made contributions of $100 or less. In contrast, the incumbent Tennyson garnered 61 percent of his funding from larger gifts, many of which came from real estate developers and builders.
In the fliers Peterson distributed throughout the city, he proclaimed he'd be a full-time mayor and promised
“every citizen will be my special interest.” His four-point platform promised that he would stand up against drugs, gangs and illegal weapons, promote racial harmony, merge city and county governments and return the power to the people. He declared that his 120 columns demonstrated that he always told the truth.
To add warmth and local appeal to the advertising bulletin, he had a photograph posed with his wife and five children on the cover, and he wrote “I love Durham. It has been my home for 38 years. My children have grown up here.” Conveniently, he neglected to mention that much of that time he was, in fact, away from his home and living overseas.
One of the other issues he put on the table was the need to press Duke University to give back more to the community of Durham. He claimed his criticism of the university's lack of financial commitment to the city did not arise from any animosity caused by his son's incarceration in 1994. To the contrary, he insisted that he attended football games, had given money to the school, donated items to the Rare Book Room and encouraged his three girls to attend Duke.
On another front, he urged the city to realize the necessity of having a full-time mayor and a full-time city council who were all compensated as professionals. He added that if elected, he would not request a pay increase before 2001. Many thought it odd that he would ask for one at all, since he was a strong critic of the city council's recent request for a salary increase.
His issues sparked positive feedback from the voters and he gained some ground drumming up grassroots support. Then, at the end of September, Peterson's public
persona collided with reality. He had claimed he had earned two Purple Hearts in combat in Vietnam. He said that he received one because he took shrapnel in his leg when his radio operator stepped on a mine. In truth, the injury in question was the result of an automobile accident when he was stationed in Japan.
When a reporter confronted him with the fact that there was no record of his Purple Hearts, Peterson admitted his story was not true. In parting, he said, “Now I'll have to go home and tell my wife.”
Like Patty before her, Kathleen stood by her man. When confronted by a friend about Michael's lies, she walked out of that woman's house and never entered it again.
With the election only days away, Peterson tried to repair the damage with a paid political column published on September 24. Peterson's column was too little, too late. To most of the electorate, it was nothing more than political entertainment. His credibility had been slashed and burned beyond reconstitution in the few days that remained before Election Day.
He still had support in the African-American community, the country club set and the artsy crowd, but the perception of Mike's public persona in other quarters dashed all hopes of salvaging the election. The cynical image Mike presented in his columns splashed on Kathleen, too. Many people in Durham who did not know them personally saw both as somewhat difficult and diffident people with arrogance toward the community.
On September 30, opponent Ralph McKinney was quoted in
The Chronicle,
the Duke University student newspaper, calling for Peterson to withdraw from the
race and to “ ⦠inform his citizens that they have someone they can vote for that wasn't a coward, a traitor or had a yellow streak down his back and that's myself.”
That same day, all five mayoral candidates participated in a political forum at the offices of
The Herald-Sun.
Of the 280 people in attendance, twelve had the opportunity to ask a broad range of questions. One asked each of the hopefuls how they would work with the city council. Four of them talked about developing interpersonal relationships, building consensus, creating a climate of amicability and using bargaining skills. Michael Peterson, though, brushed that query aside. He predicted that his voter mandate would be so large that the city council would have to follow his leadership. The important question, he said, was “How will they work with me?”
After the forum, Peterson and his supporters fled the persistent drone of Purple Heart questions by shoving cameramen and reporters out of the way without comment. The heat of media scrutiny cooled down the ardor of all but Peterson's core constituency. Tennyson got 39 percent of the vote, McKissick 30 percent. Michael Peterson came in third, losing to McKissick by 600 votes or 3 percent of the total. The two top finishers went on to the general election in November. Tennyson predicted that Peterson's supporters would vote for him. He was rightâhe won that race with 62 percent of the vote.
By December of 1999, Kathleen had amassed stock options valued at over $1 million at Nortel where she still used the name Kathleen Atwater. That month, she signed documents to defer 80 percent of her salary and bonuses in 2000. For 1999, the combined household income from salaries, rental properties and military benefits was $276,790. They would not do as well in 2000. Michael would receive $45,000 from military pension and Veterans Administration disability benefits, but he would not earn any money as a writerâor in any other job.
Caitlin Atwater was planning to attend Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, in the fall of 2000. Margaret Ratliff had been accepted at Tulane University in New Orleans.
Liz Ratliff's sisters, Rosemary Kelloway and Margaret Blair, along with Rosemary's daughter, Keri, traveled down from Rhode Island for Margaret's graduation ceremony. During the visit, they stayed at Maureen Berry's house across the street. Members of George Ratliff's family had rooms in the Peterson home.
One morning, Rosemary, Margaret Blair and Martha were sitting out by the Peterson pool relaxing and
talking. Frolicking in and around the pool were the four English bulldogs: Puck and Portia, Celeste's offspring, now nearly 2 years old; their father, Wilbur; and their uncle, 4-year-old, 70-pound Clancey, nicknamed Fat Boy.
Clancey was up to his usual routineâjumping into the pool and swimming across it. He'd then step on the cooler fastened to the bottom of the pool as a step stool and make his way up the rungs of the ladder. After a quick shake, he'd pad back around to the other side and do it all over again. The other three bulldogs entertained themselves by running up and down the side of the pool barking at Clancey. Margaret, Martha and Rosemary were not paying much attention to the dogs' antics.
They did not notice when Clancey jumped in and grabbed the hose attached to the hard plastic fountain and dragged it to the deep end of the pool. But they could not ignore the horrible scream that erupted from the house as Michael barreled through the outside door to his office at a full gallop. His face was flushed as red as the roses blooming in the garden. The veins popped out on his forehead and in his neck. He looked like he was about to stroke out.
“You stupid dog!” he screamed. “I've replaced that thing three times already because of you!”
He raced past the three women to the other end of the pool. He reached into the water and grabbed the hard plastic fountain with one hand and jerked Clancey out of the pool with the other. He beat Clancey over the head with the fountain, again and again and again.
Poor Clancey whimpered and whined as he cowered at Michael's feet. Margaret jumped up and screamed,
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Hit me! Leave that poor dog alone!”
His anger vented, Michael stopped, panting and out of breath. He stomped back into the house, telling the three by the pool, “Don't go near the dog. I'm teaching him a lesson. Don't go near him.”
Margaret ignored his command and rushed to the poor dog's side. She and Clancey were both trembling all over. The blood vessels in Clancey's face had ruptured, making him a bloody mess. Margaret was outraged. After comforting the injured animal for a moment, she headed to the house to get a towel to clean his face. She stomped through the kitchen and up the stairs to the linen closet. She pulled out the nicest towel she could find.
Michael screamed, “Who's in the house?”
She did not answer. She stomped back outside, slamming the door as she left. While Margaret cleaned the blood off of Clancey's head, Martha sat with no expression on her face at all. She said, “The dog bleeds like that a lot.”
Margaret was horrified by Martha's flat acceptance of the brutality she had just witnessed. With deliberate intent, Margaret left the bloodstained towel in a heap by the pool as a testament to Michael's cruelty.
The experience distressed Margaret Blair. She was not only concerned about the dog, she worried that Margaret and Martha could have been victimized by Peterson's violent temper, too. That fear intensified when Caitlin confided that Margaret had asked Michael why he had never adopted them and he said it was because it saved him a lot of money the way things were.
As long as the girls were classified as orphans, higher benefit payments came into the household, and college was cheaper.
On September 1, 2000, Kathleen's stock peaked at a value of $2,439,630. The Petersons' financial future could not have looked brighter.
Then, without warning, the bottom fell out. The stock prices plummeted. Nortel began its optimization programâa fancy phrase that meant they were downsizing and laying people off left and right. Even employees on Kathleen's executive level were being let go as departments merged and positions became redundant. By the end of the year, Kathleen's huge nest egg had shrunk to a value of less than $900,000. Still she maintained her 80 percent deferral on salary and bonuses.
In April, Michael and Kathleen applied for and received a second mortgage on the home at 1810 Cedar Street. In the previous year, their expenditures had exceeded their income once againâthis year by nearly $100,000. Their credit card debt had skyrocketed. They now carried a balance of more than $114,000.
Kathleen was stressing out over her job and crumbling under the financial burden she carried with little help from her spouse. But when her mother needed her, she was there.
Veronica Hunt, a widow after forty years of marriage, had lived with Carl Schnitzer, her companion for the last fourteen years. In April, he died at the age of 90. Kathleen
planned the memorial service and made the arrangements for his cremation.
All of Veronica's childrenâSteven, Kathleen, Candace and Loriâtraveled to Florida without spouses or children to be with their mother for the service. Because Veronica lived in a two-bedroom home, Kathleen and Candace were farmed out to a nearby friend's house, where they shared a bedroom. It was the most one-on-one time they had together in years.
Kathleen unburdened her troubles to her sister during that visit. She bemoaned the millions of dollars she lost on paper. She was counting on that money, she said, to fulfill her dream of having a second home in Paris.
She spoke of her distress about the people being laid off. She worried they would not find jobs. She missed them. She was afraid that she would be next.
An ugly pattern was developing at Nortel, she told her sister. You would be promoted and your first task was to lay off your division. Then you would have no job. She was also worried that it was just part of a larger plan to move all the executive positions to the home office in Canada.
Candace asked her why she continued to put up with all the stress. Why didn't she get another job and leave Nortel?
“I will stick it out to the bitter end,” Kathleen said. She knew she could not find another job in Durham that offered the same status and salary.
Kathleen talked about the stresses caused by the demands of the children. Three of them would be in college in the fallâthey needed money for tuition, room,
board, clothing and books. On top of that, Michael's grown sons were still demanding financial support.
The only bright spot in their finances was the reinstatement of Margaret's scholarship. In her freshman year, like many new college students, Margaret had neglected schoolwork for her social life, Tulane cancelled her scholarship because of the resulting bad grades. Margaret appealed and the grant was renewed.
Kathleen told Candace that she loved her home at 1810 Cedar Street, but she did not know how long she could stand the stress of living there. Because of its age and size, the expense and physical work required for its upkeep was staggering. She had very little help from the children or Michael. They had had a housekeeper off and on, but could not afford one now.
On top of the day-to-day upkeep, Kathleen continued, the house needed major repairs. There was a colony of bats in the attic. They had caused a leak in the house and now the roof had to be replaced. Termites had invaded the home and caused $10,000 worth of damage to the living room. The plumbing was a messâKathleen had not been able to take a shower for months.
Kathleen was desperate to simplify her life and relieve some of the financial pressure. She wanted to move from Cedar Street to a newly constructed, lowmaintenance home in nearby New Hope Valley. But Michael refused.
“I am always tired,” Kathleen complained, “and I don't have time to go see a doctor.” She added, “I am not enjoying what I am doing. I am not enjoying life.”
Candace was very concerned about her sister and
frustrated with Michael for not helping more with the financial situation.
In the spring, Mike sent an email to Martha's uncle, Thomas Ratliff, an oncologist at the University of Tennessee Cancer Institute in Memphis, to find funds to send her to the University of San Francisco.
“Apparently everyone is coming for Martha's graduation including Aunt Margaret Blair, who has personally spoken in Tongue with the Virgin Mary.” He went on with additional scurrilous remarks about the family. “What a circus. So why aren't you coming? Or is the answer self-explanatory? Coward! Come save me. Bring Demoral!”
Then, Michael got down to the business at hand: He asked for $5,000 per semester toward tuition. “I know this is awful but I need to ask for itâeither from you personally, or an advance on her share of the future estate.” He said he could cover the expense of a local state school, but felt it was important for Martha to experience more of the world.
Thomas Ratliff responded without commenting upon the disparaging remarks Michael had made about his family. He agreed to pay the requested amount and promised he would try to come to the graduation.
When Margaret Blair and her niece Keri Kelloway came down to Durham again for Martha's high school graduation, Michael was very solicitous and put them up in his home. They had no idea that Michael held them in
such deep disdain. Margaret saw Wilbur, Portia and Puck, but there was no sign of Clancey. She asked Michael where he was.
“Oh, oh, oh. It was a terrible thing. A horrible thing,” he replied.
“What happened?” Margaret asked.
Michael would not look her in the eye. He talked fast. And he rambled. He told her that it was just terrible. Clancey had a heart attack and drowned in the pool. The kids found him floating there. Dead.
A chill went through Margaret as Michael prattled on. Her stomach churned as possibilities tumbled through her mind. She witnessed one episode of violence with Clancey. Was there another?
Candace Zamperini was uncomfortable with the story, too. When she asked Kathleen how Clancey died, her sister said that it was too painful to talk about and changed the subject. That was not like Kathleen and it made Candace very suspicious about the circumstances surrounding Clancey's death.
Soon after this visit, Puck disappeared. It was suspected that he had run away, since he had gone off once before. None of the family ever saw him again.
Looking back, Candace and Margaret both wish they had done somethingâanythingâto prevent the death of a dog from becoming the foreshadowing of Kathleen's future.