Killer Dads: The Twisted Drives that Compel Fathers to Murder Their Own Kids

250 Pages·2013·3.65 MB·English

by  Mary Papenfuss

Published 2013 by Prometheus Books Killer Dads: The Twisted Drives That Compel Fathers to Murder
Their Own Kids. Copyright © 2013 by Mary Papenfuss. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Papenfuss, Mary.
Killer dads : the twisted drives that compel fathers to murder their own kids / by Mary Papenfuss.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-61614-743-3 (pbk.) ISBN 978-1-61614-744-0 (ebook) 1. Filicide—United States. 2.
Children—Crimes against—United States. 3. Murder—United States. I. Title.
HV6542.P365 2013
364.152’3—dc23
2013007165
Printed in the United States of America
This book is dedicated to Clare, Susan, Charlie and Braden,
Laci and Conner, Betty, Stephanie and Catherine, and Jessica

. . . and to Roland, Leda, and Luke, who keep me warm through the sad times.
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Chapter 1. Rage
Chapter 2. James Tells His Story
Chapter 3. Mug’s Game
Chapter 4. Homo Saps
Chapter 5. Possession
Chapter 6. Devastation
Chapter 7. Death by the Numbers
Chapter 8. Trail of Tears
Chapter 9. Control Freak
Chapter 10. What Susan Knew
Chapter 11. Gone
Chapter 12. This Modern Life
Chapter 13. Masked
Chapter 14. Clash
Chapter 15. Infidel
Chapter 16. What to Do
Notes
Bibliography
Index
It’s difficult to approach people and ask them to share the biggest tragedy of
their lives with a complete stranger. It’s far harder to agree to do it. I’m
tremendously grateful to family, friends, and acquaintances whose lives have
been rocked by the killing of a child. This book would not exist without their
steadfast loyalty to the memory of their dead, and the strength and courage to
revisit a heart-wrenching horror to try to make some sense of it. Chuck and Judy
Cox, Wendy Wasinski, Julieanne Malley, Marianne Quinn, Lucille Messina,
James, Kayla Chuba, and Kaija Hartiala not only shared painful, detailed
information but gave me a small glimpse into the profound, shattering impact of
such horrific crimes on the people left behind. Bruce Montague helped
tremendously by providing details about Bill Parente’s Ponzi scheme to help
Parente’s financial victims, but also to aid an effort to attempt to understand a
tragedy that deeply affected him. Jonathan Bachrach, Joanne Schulter, and Susan
Deluca offered intriguing insights into the Parente family. Melissa Garret of the
Baltimore County Police Department was particularly helpful with information
in the Parente murder-suicide. I also thank the many investigators, big gruff guys
whose hearts ache for child victims, who dodged official channels to talk to me
and slip me information on several cases. I apologize for any oversights or
mistakes. I hope in some small way this book pays tribute to family and friends’
willingness to share their pain, and to the memory of Clare Shelswell; Betty,
Stephanie, and Catherine Parente; Susan, Charlie, and Braden Powell; Laci and
Conner Peterson; and Jessica Mokdad, as well as all the other victims who died
with far less notice or concern.
I’m also indebted to the research and perspectives of the scientists and
activists who grapple with the issue of violence and child deaths at the hands of
their parents. Work by Sarah Hrdy, Martin Daly (with Margo Wilson), Richard
Gelles, and Neil Websdale offered fascinating platforms from which to view
violence against children, and I appreciate their patience walking me through the
issues and their insights. Thanks, too, to Michael Petit of the Every Child
Matters Education Fund, and Amanda Parker of the AHA Foundation for their
help and information, and for fighting the good fight.
Mark Mooney, now at ABC, was the New York Daily News national editor
who assigned me to cover the Scott Peterson trial in California, which is where
the idea for this book was born. As painful as that story was to cover, I’ll be
forever grateful for that assignment. I was fueled throughout my endeavor by a
supportive gang of pals and current and former colleagues willing to listen
endlessly to my expositions on the problem of parents who kill their children and
encourage me to keep churning through the work. It meant the world to me. You
know who you are: Hannah, Mike, Elaine, Shaila and Madhav, Kipp, Patricia,
Anna and Marcel, Adriana and Pablo, Livia, Linda H., Marilyn, Denise, Lisa and
Lisa, Corinne, Deb and James, and even Lis, who said she’d have to read the
book with her eyes closed.
Finally, I’m blessed with a family endlessly intrigued with my unusual
interests. Leda kept me on my toes, Luke turned out to be a footnote meister, and
Roland fortified me. This book is as much yours as mine, Rol.
The kids are frozen in time: The boy with the impossibly wide grin, the shy
student, the little one, the clown, the girl with the pink bow in her hair, the girl
with pigtails. They crowd together in their first-grade class photo. All but one
are dead now, cut down by a semi-automatic rifle fired by suicidal gunman
Adam Lanza in their classroom in Sandy Hook Elementary in Connecticut. As I
finish writing this book, we’re still in the midst of the long, sad march of
Connecticut funerals. One mom has talked of the “hole in her heart.” A father
said he hoped the death of his adventurous, creative girl with the infectious laugh
would inspire us to be better, more compassionate, people.
I’ve been steeped in stories of horrific murders for a year. I’ve become friends
with a killer; I’ve spent the night in a hotel room where a man described by a
chum as “straight as an arrow” bludgeoned and suffocated his family before
cutting his own throat; I’ve chalked up hours in court listening to accounts of a
man who shot his stepdaughter in the head; I’ve learned the history of a kinky
father-in-law who took Peeping-Tom photos of his son’s wife, who vanished and
is presumed dead somewhere in the desert ranges near Salt Lake City. As I drove
home from my last interview, I learned of the Sandy Hook shootings on the car
radio and was struck, again, by how unimaginably annihilating the human soul
can be.
I’ve focused on child murders. Unlike the Sandy Hook victims, the children in
this book were murdered by people they loved and people they thought loved
them. And unlike the Sandy Hook victims, most of them died with little notice
from the public, even though the toll from child abuse and neglect and homicide
across the nation claims each week at least the same number of victims as the
school shootings.
The toll is obvious in news reports. In the office where I write, I have a
bulletin board of some of the victims’ faces. One of them, a photo of four-year-
old Emma Thompson, reminds me of my daughter at the same age. It’s the time
when a young child is truly aware of the impact she can have on adults. In her
snapshot, Emma mugs for the camera, full of herself in the particular way little
girls can be, delighted. Her top lip is curled above her baby teeth in a giggling
grin. She was killed that same year the photo was taken, 2009, in her home in
Spring, Texas, north of Houston. She had been raped, her ribs broken, her skull