Part 17 (2/2)
McIntyre had said recently he wished he could die, although he apparently was only temporarily despondent over his sickness.
The strange call to Mabel Lowe at 8:00 p.m. could be interpreted not as a veiled plea for help, but as a farewell. Suicides often say good-bye in such ways.
Two days before his death, McIntyre also had written to a female member of his church, apologizing for something he'd said to her in a parking lot ”some time ago.” He informed the woman that he'd sought G.o.d's forgiveness for what he'd said.
The old gentleman was highly sensitive to other people's feelings. If he was contemplating suicide, Roy knew it would be in character for him to attempt some sort of closure over the perceived personal offense.
Finally, Andrew McIntyre cleaned his house and did his laundry the afternoon before his death. This again is behavior consistent with suicide. However, as Roy noted in his list, the victim also normally performed these ch.o.r.es, and had put them off for some time because of his illness.
On the other side of the question, homicide, Roy found much to consider.
To begin with, there were the unexplained scratches and bruises on McIntyre's hands and body. While not conclusive proof he had struggled with his killer, the marks were consistent with an attempt to defend himself. In a forty-five-minute telephone conversation, the pathologist hired by McIntyre's family told Roy he could not rule out the possibility that the victim's injuries were defensive injuries.
There was no suicide note. Although such notes are not typical, or even common, Andrew McIntyre's children did not believe their father would take his leave in such a way without explanation.
He was experiencing no special stresses at the time of his death, save for what appeared to be a minor misstatement of some sort to the woman in the parking lot.
He had been ill, and despondent about it. But at the time of his death, he was physically improved and feeling better. His doctor reported McIntyre was suffering no other medical problems.
”People contemplating suicide typically do not make plans for the future,” Roy noted. Then Hazelwood listed all the forward-looking actions Andrew McIntyre had taken, from accepting an invitation to his granddaughter's wedding to recently spading his garden, readying the earth for planting. He also had ordered prescription refills, and groceries in bulk amounts. Never one to waste or overspend, Andrew McIntyre had thirty boxes of breakfast cereal on hand at the time of his death.
”The preponderance of the behavioral evidence indicates that if Mr. McIntyre killed himself, it was a highly impulsive act,” Roy wrote. ”Mr. McIntyre was not reported to be an impulsive person.”
What was more, the means of death-a ligature looped over three rafters and a stepladder-were inconsistent with impulsiveness. If Andrew McIntyre had decided suddenly to kill himself, his abundant supply of pills would have been a much more likely means.
Suicides typically telegraph their intent, either directly (”I ought to kill myself”) or indirectly (”I can understand why someone would kill himself”). As far as was known, McIntyre made no such statements.
He was a religious man, who centered his life on his church and Bible. McIntyre's faith made suicide a sin.
The garage door could be locked from the inside, but wasn't. ”Suicides typically take steps to preclude interruption,” Hazelwood observed.
”Mr. McIntyre was very conscientious with his dog,” Roy added. ”It is probable that had he intended to take his life, he would have arranged for the animal to be taken care of, or ensured that it was restricted to a room with food and water.”
Finally, there was no history of suicide in the McIntyre family, nor had he ever been treated or medicated for mental problems. Nor was the date of his death of any particular significance in his life.
On balance, Roy concluded in his a.n.a.lysis, which later was forwarded to the local police by the McIntyres, ”the circ.u.mstances of Mr. Andrew McIntyre's death appear to be more consistent with a finding of homicide than suicide.”
His daughter Joyce has one theory how such a murder could have occurred.
”My father would have let Mike in the house,” she says. ”All he would have to say is that he thought he'd left some tools in the garage. Once they were out there, I believe that all Mike had to say was that he'd hurt me or other members of the family if my father didn't do exactly as he told him.”
In his report, Hazelwood politely suggested that ”further investigation of Mr. McIntyre's death is justified to more definitely eliminate the possibility of homicide. This opinion is based upon Mr. Hazelwood's education, experience and consultation on similar cases.”
No further investigation was conducted. Andrew McIntyre's official cause of death remains suicide.
In a postscript to her disastrous third marriage, Joyce McIntyre received a bill for approximately eight thousand dollars from the Internal Revenue Service, which claims Mike Jones filed no tax return the year they were married.
She's still arguing with the IRS over the back-tax a.s.sessment. If she loses, she reckons her ex-husband will have bilked her out of forty thousand dollars or more.
A month after receiving the IRS's unpleasant news, Joyce heard from the state police. A body had been found, the trooper told her. He said he had been contacted by a young flight attendant who had been dating her ex-husband, and who believed the dead man could be Mike Jones. Would the former Mrs. Jones care to talk to the woman?
No.
Then a second woman contacted Joyce. Identifying herself as an attorney in a western state, she said she'd met Mike the previous autumn.
”How much did he take you for?” Joyce asked.
”About fifteen thousand dollars,” answered the lawyer.
Joyce then called the flight attendant, who lived in the same general area. She said she had known of Andrew McIntyre's death, that she met Mike Jones very soon thereafter, and that she quickly found him living with her.
”She said she felt he was hiding out, like he was hiding from some people,” Joyce recalls.
In time, the lawyer also learned of Andrew McIntyre's death, and called Joyce once again.
”I feel you have to know this,” she said. ”Mike used to tell me that the easiest way to kill somebody was to wrap a wire around their neck and jerk their head back.”
Mike Jones next surfaced in a large southwestern city, leasing an apartment from a couple he'd met. He didn't have the full rent immediately, he explained to them, because he was paid quarterly. They accepted Jones's word that he would catch up on the rent as soon as his check came through.
Meantime, the ever-personable Jones attended a big Christmas party with his landlords, and met one of their friends at the affair, a flight attendant who'd flown in especially for the party.
As the couple later told the story to Joyce, her ex-husband went right to work.
”I'm thinking of driving to Mexico next week,” he told the woman.
”If you do, stop by on your way,” she said.
Here Joyce interrupted the report.
”Let me guess,” she said. ”He stopped by and never left?”
”That's right,” came the reply.
Jones reportedly lived with this woman for about four months, long enough for his former landlords to start wondering about the back rent he owed them. They searched the apartment, discovered a name and telephone number for the lawyer, and through her found Joyce.
”They got scared after they heard about Dad and everything else Mike had done to me,” Joyce recalls. ”So the guy got on a plane and flew out to see the flight attendant. They were all good friends and he didn't want anything to happen to her.
”He said he told Mike, 'Pack your bag, you're coming with me. You owe us money.' ”
About that time, the flight attendant received a call from a bank asking if she authorized a five-hundred-dollar charge against her card.
Joyce's most recent information, current as of late 1997, placed Jones with yet another female acquaintance he reportedly met in a bar there.
Apparently she loaned him fifteen hundred dollars, which he repaid with a bad check.
<script>