...And Never Let HerGo

Marie could well be alive. Two flecks of blood that matched her DNA profile would not prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was dead. And although Tom Capano might be a complete tyrant who treated women like objects, that didn’t prove he was a killer.
    There were still myriad elements of Anne Marie’s disappearance that the investigators didn’t know. Her body might be buried somewhere and could be retrieved and an autopsy performed. Theremight even be eyewitnesses to what had happened to her. There almost certainly were people who knew more than they were saying. Thus, the probe continued, its pace sometimes maddeningly slow to those who waited for some watershed moment. It had to be that way.
    I N early September 1997, Eric Alpert filed another affidavit. Included in the information set forth was the story of Tom’s obsessive revenge against Linda Marandola, which had been reported to the FBI by an informant in 1980. Now the public knew that Anne Marie Fahey was not the first woman Tom had stalked. Members of the Delaware Supreme Court’s Censure Committee hastened to say that they had never been informed of the Marandola matter. But one member
had
been, and he happened to have been one of Tom’s bosses at Morris, James, Hitchens & Williams at the time of the complaint. Seventeen years later, he had no comment about the matter.
    The FBI seized Tom’s E-mail. In doing so the investigators talked to the woman in charge of the computers at Saul, Ewing and learned that Tom had asked her a few days after Anne Marie vanished if his E-mail had been destroyed. He had been somewhat dismayed, according to the witness, to learn that it had not.
    The balance of public opinion in Wilmington was tipping. Tom resigned from Saul, Ewing without giving a reason.
    W HATEVER Tom had done during the day after Anne Marie vanished, he apparently spent much of it with Gerry. In their strategy sessions, Connolly, Donovan, and Alpert had come to believe that the missing components of the case probably rested deep in the bosom of the Capano family. They had learned the Capano credo:
Family was family.
Louie, Joey, and Gerry had good reason to revere their older brother—none more than Gerry; Tom had bailed them all out of trouble, and now, perhaps, it had been their turn.
    Gerry Capano’s name had stood out in the time line Tom wrote for Friday, June 28, 1996. His name appeared opposite five items:
6:30, 10:30–11:00, 12:30+, 12:30–1:30,
and
3:00.
And for
9:15–10:30,
Tom had written, “drive to SH.” “SH” had to be Stone Harbor. Gerry had a house and a boat there. Of all the Capano family, he was the one who spent the most time at Stone Harbor.
    Gerry still had the cherubic features that had once made him such a cute little kid, but his avocations were all so macho that one wondered if he was still trying to prove himself to his older brothers. When he wasn’t hunting grizzly bears and moose in the great Northwest in the winter, he competed in shark-fishing derbies in the AtlanticOcean off Stone Harbor. He had neither his brothers’ business acumen nor their cleverness.
    Joey wasn’t mentioned in Tom’s notes. But the trio of investigators suspected that Gerry and Louie might well have fallen on their swords to protect Tom—as long as their swords weren’t too sharp. Both of them had a great deal to lose and they were vulnerable, Gerry perhaps more than Louie.
    With the first-year anniversary of Anne Marie’s disappearance near at hand, it was obvious that some pressure had to be exerted on Gerry and Louie. They were clearly not willing to talk without some incentive. Of course, there wouldn’t be any way to lean on either of them unless they had Achilles’ heels when it came to the law.
    Louie had had trouble in the past with illegal campaign contributions and bribery of public officials, and his financial dealings were very intricate when it came to the IRS. A multimillionaire, he was a brilliant real estate and construction entrepreneur but he had been known to grease wheels when it came to zoning and building permits. Tom’s diplomacy and connections had allowed Louie to walk away with few repercussions, but he probably had been left with some anxiety about the government’s interest in his business dealings.
    Louie was called back before the grand jury and asked countless questions. Both his business and his personal life were suffering. All unwittingly, his wife and his son, his only child, had