Lethal Guardian (38 page)

“As a family,” she continued, “we cry together on days like today…. My mother is the strongest woman I know—a courageous one who fights for justice.”

Dee Clinton, the most vocal of the bunch, read from a prepared statement that took about twenty minutes. After talking about how the death of her son had affected her family over the years, Dee criticized the justice system, lawyers in general, saying, “I must admit, I find it entertaining and eagerly await the positive spin we’re going to hear today from [Clein’s attorney]….”

When it was Clein’s turn to talk, he stood and, quietly, turned and looked at the Clintons.

“I’d give my life for his if I could.” Then he paused, “Literally. There’s no way for me to really express to them how sorry I feel.”

Clein, who had been incarcerated now for six years, received thirty-five years.

It was finally over. Haiman Clein would likely spend the rest of his life in prison. Joe Fremut was dead. Beth Ann Carpenter, serving a life sentence plus twenty years, was already planning her appeal. Mark Despres, on the other hand, was sitting in his cell still trying to manipulate the system any way he could to get out of what was to him the worst environment imaginable. And it was all part of a murder-for-hire plot that had begun with the birth of a fatherless child back in 1990: Rebecca Ann Carpenter, who had turned thirteen on August 12, 2003.

One could argue that Circe’s path, named after the Greek goddess Circe, is driven by an old cliché: “What goes around comes around.” Or that what I call Circe’s path is nothing more than folklore or fiction. Circe, in Homer’s
Odyssey,
used poison to entice men into her web. Ultimately, once she wrapped them around her sexy little finger, she could get them to perform back-flips at a moment’s notice.

To say there is a correlation between this age-old myth and Beth Ann Carpenter’s life of using men in a similar fashion to get what she wanted is, some might argue, a bit of a stretch. But peel back a layer and look beyond the surface—and there is clear evidence that Circe’s path exists within the confines of Beth Ann’s world.

As of this writing, Beth Ann Carpenter, at the young age of thirty-nine, sits in her cell inside York Correctional Facility for Women in Niantic, Connecticut, overlooking the one spot where her life, some might say, both began and ended in the span of eight years. She now awaits word on her appeal and prepares to fight several civil suits (wrongful death) brought against her by the Clinton family and Kim Carpenter Clinton. From the north side of York, on a clear winter day, though, when all the trees are stripped naked of their leaves and the ground is brown and frozen, and the birds have gone south and the wind is bitter and howling through the cracks of the prison walls, Beth Ann, if she chooses, can look out any one of the many prison windows. And, just there, not far from a place that is now her home, where the ebb and flow of life grind on without her, about a half mile away, is the exact same location where it all began back on March 10, 1994: Exit 72, the Rocky Neck connector—the same spot where twenty-eight-year-old Anson “Buzz” Clinton, in the prime of his life, was—at the urging and planning of Beth Ann Carpenter, a jury of her peers unanimously agreed—gunned down like a helpless deer by a man he didn’t even know.

So, in a sense, Circe’s path, at least in theory, does exist.

Nearly everyone in law enforcement I spoke to while working on this book repeated one name to me: Inspector Jack Edwards. “He was the key to this entire investigation,” a humble John Turner, along with several other detectives and attorneys, said more than once.

A retired, lifelong cop, Jack Edwards is the New London State’s Attorney’s Office’s chief investigator and worked as the liaison between the Eastern District Major Crime Squad and the state’s attorney’s office during the Buzz Clinton murder investigation. Jack would, I was told, point detectives in the right direction and, so they could learn for themselves how to become better at what they did, step back. He was there to assure that detectives left no stone unturned. So when the case went to trial, hopefully, it would be open and shut.

In all due respect to Jack Edwards, a man I have never met, I didn’t find his role to be all that instrumental in the story I have told here. Number one, Jack is a remarkably modest man, I’m told, and would rather not talk about his involvement in the cases he works on. Second, Jack’s name appeared on not one piece of documentation I examined. I had plenty of cops tell me Jack Edwards was and is the best investigator the state of Connecticut has to offer and that he played a significant role in bringing down Beth Ann Carpenter, but again, Jack’s decision not to be interviewed for this book, along with his obvious humility, stopped me from pursuing him any further.

As of this writing, Beth Ann Carpenter’s attorneys have been working on filing her appeal. There is no set date for her attorneys to argue it in front of a judge, however. My professional “opinion” of how it will turn out is rather simple:
Get comfortable in prison, Ms. Carpenter, because you’re going to be there for the rest of your life.

The evidence in this case, when taken in context as a whole, is stunning. For Beth Ann Carpenter
not
to have had something to do with Buzz Clinton’s murder, it would mean that not one or two people committed perjury, but just about every witness the state of Connecticut presented would have had to perjure himself or herself on the stand at some point during his or her testimony. What’s important to think about is, there is no way that people who do not know each other, people who have never spoken to each other, can tell similar stories about the same events and be able to lie about them with the accuracy displayed in this case. It just doesn’t happen that way. If, for example, a man in California and a man in New Jersey who don’t know each other make a report about an object in the sky and describe it the exact same way, we can be certain that we’ve uncovered the truth about what those two people saw.

It’s called objective evidence.

In my opinion, based on the interviews I have done, all I have observed and my tedious study of the public record, Beth Ann Carpenter is, if nothing else, a liar who, perhaps, believes her own lies—nor does she have any intention of ever giving the Clinton family what they so much deserve: the truth.

Murder for hire is a complex crime. People who plan to kill other people will justify the crime any way they can to allow themselves to be able to live with what they have done. Because they often are so far removed from actually
committing
the crime, as in this case, they tend to feel as if they had nothing to do with it. Or perhaps it is just easier for them to believe they weren’t part of it at all. Who knows?

Beth Ann will continue to believe that she hasn’t done anything wrong—that, during pillow talk, she merely mentioned one day to Haiman Clein that the entire Carpenter family would be better off if Buzz were out of the picture. With that, she and her attorneys have repeatedly claimed, Clein took it upon himself to have Buzz killed as his “gift” to her.

What’s more, Beth Ann has seemingly managed to convince her entire family of her lies. This is clearly implicit in the few press appearances members of the Carpenter family have done, namely Court TV’s
Mugshots
and A&E’s
City Confidential.
But the truth and, more important, the
documentation,
not to mention the absolutely misconstrued notion that so many people would perjure themselves in a court of law, are a different matter. The facts in this case speak for themselves. And it’s not a matter of he said/she said; it’s a matter of scores of people telling the same stories over and over and the irrefutable documentation supporting those stories.

Period.

Finally, if some readers cannot see Beth Ann’s guilt after going on this journey with me throughout this book, I feel they are blinded by denial and incapable of accepting the truth and
facts
—and I encourage them to contact me with
documentation
that supports proof of their
opinions.

Beth Ann’s mother, Cynthia Carpenter, received a letter from me regarding an interview I was hoping to set up with the entire Carpenter family. I called their home several times. Nobody answered my letter or returned my calls.

A nonfiction author of true crime books has to be objective, certainly. But also selective. Family members and friends of the family of those convicted are suspect sources to begin with. Many don’t see the truth, or refuse to believe it. I was careful to conduct background checks on every person in this story I felt deserved to be interviewed, and I made decisions based on the many conversations I had with law enforcement, attorneys and people close to this case. If a long-lost cousin, brother, neighbor or spouse wasn’t contacted by me for an interview, there was a good reason behind that decision: they were insignificant to the story and could add nothing in the form of truth. In addition, the Carpenter and Clein families had nearly a year to talk to me; neither chose to answer my letters or phone calls.

—M. William Phelps
November 2003

Every book has a few people attached to it that without whom the book would not be possible. For this, my second crime book, I am indebted to Jim Cypher.

Martha Jenssen, court officer at the New London Superior Court, was, to me, a person who always went out of her way to make sure I had whatever I needed in a timely fashion. Ms. Jenssen was extremely considerate, kind, resourceful and eager to help. Without her, this book would have undoubtedly suffered greatly. Her kindness, friendship and help was something I will never forget. I am forever grateful. Thank you, ma’am.

Court reporters Patricia Smith and Elaine Wiltsie were always considerate of my time constraints. I thank them for providing me—sometimes at a moment’s notice—with all the court transcripts connected to this case.

In no particular order, I also would like to thank Detective John Turner, who is today the sergeant in charge of the Eastern District Major Crime Squad, Detectives Marty Graham and Reggie Wardell, Peter McShane, Kevin Kane, Tara Knight, Cameron MacKenzie and anyone from the New London Superior Court I’ve overlooked. Most were very kind. Most trusted me. I appreciate that. It makes all the difference to a writer in my position.

A special thanks to Dee Clinton, Suzanne Clinton, Buck and Billy Clinton. Some of you helped more than others, but I am grateful to you all. You are some of the strongest people I have
ever
met in my life. You have been routinely treated unfairly. Talked about by most everyone involved in this case. Castigated. Shunned. At times, made a mockery of. Yet you continue to fight for what you believe. I can only hope this book reflects a part of Buzz that you were all once witness to more than any of us.

To those of you I interviewed but changed your names in the book, thank you for taking the time to let me into your homes and tell me in candid detail about your role in this case. It takes courage and strength on your part—which you greatly showed—to trust someone like me. Thank you for your stories. I hope I haven’t disappointed any of you.

A special thanks to Charlie Snyder. Your honesty and integrity should be commended. You talked about things others would not have.

Those who helped with obtaining photos, thank you. I want to also say thanks to those of you at the Hartford Public Library, New London Public Library and Ledyard Public Library for helping me locate photos, documents, newspaper articles and archives associated with the Carpenter family and Buzz Clinton. Special thanks to Marty Hubbard at the Ledyard Public Library. I need to also thank John Brand, who really put the entire photo section together for me and ended up fixing my vehicle one day when we got stranded in New London. (You’re the best, John!)

Thank you Gregg Olsen and Harvey Rachlin. Also: R.K., J.G., B.W.

I cannot write a book without thanking William Acosta, a man whose gifts to this world are endless.

Kensington editor-in-chief, Michaela Hamilton, and senior editor Johnny Crime have shown me nothing but respect, guidance and support. Whether they are making my words work on the page or explaining parts of the business I am still trying to comprehend, I feel like I am working with the two most prolific editors in the business. Thanks both of you for always taking the time to answer my questions. A very special thanks to copyeditor S. Finnegan.

This book is dedicated to Tommy Louis (“he ain’t heavy…”). Without his persistence, I would have never pursued this story, which was his idea from the get-go. Thanks, Tommy. I hope it lives up to what you had hoped from the beginning.

The entire Phelps family has been very supportive: thanks! Doug Leonard, a friend for years: thank you for the help during those tough times. Garry Rice, a former cop and gun expert, thanks for helping me understand the ballistics involved in this case and helping me put together the likely sequence in which Buzz Clinton might have been shot.

All my readers: Thank you for the kind letters and encouraging e-mails.

My wife: You are not only the best friend I have ever had, but my guide through life. You allow me the space and time to do my work without questioning why. You are there when things go bad, when they get worse and when everything seems to be going our way. Thank you for believing in me and not once ever asking me why I continue to do this in spite of all the negative aspects of it.

Lastly, my children. I see life in your happiness, your sadness, your stubbornness, your dreams, goals and, yes, your failures. When I look at the three of you together, the joy comes in understanding why I am alive.

If I have forgotten anyone, I sincerely apologize; it wasn’t on purpose.