Smoke, Mirrors, and Murder

for a guy to use as a “tax write-off.”
    Later, Sue realized that her husband was using his computer for online gambling. While he had always taken chances in the stock market, she had never really thought of him as the kind of gambler who bought lottery tickets or spent much in Las Vegas. Her own limit was $300 for a weekend trip to Nevada, and while Bill wagered a little more, it hadn’t been a problem. He always told her his gambling was “totally under control” and that he knew his limits.
    He had kept his huge gambling losses hidden by changing the address on their bank statements to a post office box.
    Sue realized that Bill was lying to her—had probably lied to her for many years. Every few months brought more secrets she had never known about. In May 2001, he told her that he had won a $10,000 cruise just for testing some new software. It was to be a wonderful trip for their entire family. It never happened.
    She finally acknowledged to herself that every time something was really important to her or to Jenny or Scott, Bill would go out of his way to smash their joy. His birthday was coming up on Memorial Day weekend, and they made plans to take a family trip to Cannon Beach, Oregon. They went, but Bill was surly and critical of everyone, and nobody had any fun.
    Around June 16, 2001, she learned that Bill had just spent $28,000 on collectible coins he’d purchased on the Internet. Their marriage had spun like a colorful top for twenty-two years, the lines and patterns blurred by Bill’s glib excuses. Now, as it wound down slower and slower, Sue could see the pattern of lies.
    It was all too much. Sue had finally hit a wall, and she told Bill she wanted a divorce. He begged her to stay. She said she would if he would join her in counseling.
    Bill attended four sessions, but blew up when the counselor pointed out to him that he was responsible for the domestic violence incidents in his home. Bill refused to go back.
    He chose what mattered most to him. It wasn’t Sue—or even their children. Their marriage had become untenable. There was nothing left to save, and no way in the world to make it work.
    They reached a watershed point on Friday, June 22, 2001—the first full day of summer. Sue had made plans to drive Jenny and the girls on her basketball team to Spokane for the annual “Hoop-Fest” that drew teams from all over Washington State. They needed to take the Jensens’ Sequoia SUV, the only vehicle big enough to hold seven passengers.
    But Bill would not allow it. He forbade Sue to take it, and Jenny and the team had to scare up a ride with another parent.
    “It was more than his selfishness,” Sue remembered. “The team parents and the girls were my friends and Jenny’s friends. This was my social life—all that I had—and I was embarrassed, and Jenny was, too—and disappointed. Bill and I had a big fight that day, and I realized I’d totally, finally, come to the end.”
    A battle comparable to the War of the Roses began that day. The house they lived in had been owned by Sue’s family since she was in grade school. It seemed reasonable that Bill should be the one to leave and move into an apartment. Uprooting their children from the only home they had ever known and taking them out of their schools would be cruel. They were already devastated that their parents were divorcing.
    Bill agreed to leave that Friday, June 22, but it wasn’t an easy transition. He and Sue were both angry, and maybe he expected her to back down, but she didn’t. Jenny had left for Spokane to play in the basketball tournament, but Scott was home when Sue called her sister and asked her anxiously to come right over. “I’ve called the police,” Sue said.
    When Carol pulled up to the house in Newport Hills, she saw several Bellevue Police cars parked outside. Scott was in the front yard, safe—but obviously humiliated to have all the neighbor kids watching. There should have been a way for Bill to move out without causing a scene, but that wasn’t going to happen.
    Officers Raskow and Boyd had responded to Sue’s 911 call for help. They found her crying and upset, but saw that Bill was upset too. It was a common reaction to a domestic dispute, and neither of them appeared to be out of control.
    Bill was mostly concerned over a box of documents, files of some of his financial dealings that Sue knew nothing about. Their argument was at an impasse but not flaring dangerously, and Bill left the