The Cold Case of Mr. Harrington

Their only problem then was Mrs. Harrington so they had to kill her too. She could tell the police that she didn't take her husband to the hospital that morning. The only person who could get close enough to Mrs. Harrington to strangle her was her husband. I think each one killed their spouse and then ran off together.

"The thing about emptying out the house and selling her car was to make Mrs. Harrington the prime suspect and it worked until we got DNA from the bodies in Mr. Harrington's supposed grave."

"So, how do we prove any of this?"

Rochelle sipped her coffee and then frowned.

"The only way I can see is for you to bring them in and question them until one of them confesses. We don't have any reason to do that, though, do we?"

"No, and if I just went to Crossville and talked to them, if they're guilty they'd be gone as soon as I left and we'd have to find them again. I need something tying them to the murders so I can arrest them and bring them back to Knoxville.

"I'm going to go back to the funeral home and see if they have any records about who the gravedigger was. You found out a lot on the last two cases from the newspapers. Why don't you see what you can find out about them, both when they lived here and after they moved to Crossville? Maybe they screwed up somewhere along the line and got one of their names in the paper."

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The funeral home director said he probably had the name of the gravedigger, but it would take a while to find.

"We perform about a hundred funerals a year, and when I bought the business it was doing about the same. The prior owner never converted to computerizing his records, so I'll have to search through his paper files."

I offered to have a couple uniforms come over to assist, but he shook his head.

"No, but thank you for the offer. Our records are considered confidential to anyone except family members. You could get a court order to search the files, but I'd appreciate it if you don't. That would affect my business because I'd lose the trust of the community. I'll do the search myself, and call you when I find the file."

I didn't have enough to get a court order other than a theory, and judges are pretty reluctant to issue a warrant if it just looks like the cop is fishing for something he's not sure is there. I went back to my desk then.

It may surprise a lot of people who watch cop shows on TV, but detectives can't really get much information without a warrant. We're restricted to public records and the records of other police departments. That means we can get arrest records and judicial records, but things like credit reports, phone records, and the like require a warrant. Since I didn't have enough for a warrant for any of those things, I started running all the names I had through NCIC and the court records for Tennessee. I also added the court records for Illinois on the hunch that Mr. Harrington might have had an Illinois driver's license as Kenneth Weston for a reason.

It was in the Rockford, Illinois court records that I found a link between Mr. Harrington and the murders. It was a pretty thin link but it might be enough to get Mr. Harrington into an interrogation room.

In 1995, Kenneth Weston had used a check to rent a backhoe from an equipment rental agency in Rockford. The rental agreement stated the rental charge allowed the renter to use the backhoe for twenty-four hours with an hour grace period for the renter to return it to the rental agency. He'd rented the backhoe on Saturday morning so the rental agency waited until Monday to deposit the check.

Mr. Weston had returned the backhoe four hours later and demanded that they only charge him for half a day. When the rental agency pointed out that the contract said he had to pay for a full day no matter what, he just left. When the rental agency attempted to cash the check on Monday, they found out Mr. Weston had requested a stop payment order on the check. They sued Mr. Weston in order to get paid.

What the court testimony revealed was that Mr. Weston had been taking side electrical jobs with certain small contractors who didn't want to pay union scale. On one of these jobs, he'd been asked to put in some underground conduits. When the contractor said he'd call an excavation contractor to dig the trench if Mr. Weston would give him the dimensions, Mr. Weston said he knew how to run a backhoe and he'd rent a backhoe and do it for half the price.

The way the suit ended was Mr. Weston was ordered to pay the full amount for the rental plus the legal fees of the rental agency. That in itself wasn't important to me, but if Kenneth Weston and Kenneth Harrington were the same person, it gave me a link between him and the two murders. It could be him who dug the grave and him who put Mrs. Harrington in the casket.

It was almost four when the funeral home director called me back.

"Detective Owens, I found the file. The man who dug the grave was not an employee of the cemetery. He was a private contractor the former owner hired. Apparently he was some relation to Mrs. Harrington and she requested that he do the work. She also paid him directly. According to the records, his name was Kenneth Weston and he ran a landscaping business in Rockford, Illinois, and had dug and filled in graves before. Apparently he did an acceptable job. There are no notes in the file to indicate otherwise."

That was the link I needed as long as I could prove Kenneth Weston was the same man as Kenneth Harrington. I wasn't sure how I'd do that without his DNA. I was pretty sure if I just walked up to him and asked him for a cheek swab, he'd tell me to go fuck myself.

That night, I told Rochelle what I'd found and she grinned.

"We've got him then, don't we?"

"Well, maybe. We need to prove Kenneth Harrington and Kenneth Weston are the same person. For that, we need his fingerprints or DNA, but that'll be tough to get."

Rochelle smiled.

"No, it won't. I'll get it for you."

"And just how are you going to do that?"

"Well, I was looking at the newpaper archives for Knoxville and didn't find anything except for an obituary for Mr. Harrington. Apparently neither couple was married in Knoxville or at least they didn't put a wedding announcement in the paper.

"We think they moved to Crossville, so I started looking at the archives of the Crossville Chronical. What I found supports what you found about him in Rockford and in Crossville. I found a business announcement on the business page in November of 1999. The business is called, "Weston Home Repairs and Remodeling" and on their website, they say they do landscaping, plumbing, electrical work, as well as adding on rooms and building garages and storage buildings.

"I think I need to drive out there and see if I can figure out a way to get his fingerprints on something. If they're a match to what NCIC has, we have at least one of our killers, don't we?"

"Yes, but I don't think you should go to their house by yourself though. They've already killed two people, so they won't be risking anything to kill one more. I think I'd better come with you."

Rochelle frowned.

"OK, but we have to go in separate cars. No matter what you do, you still look like a cop and that'll scare him off.

"Oh, and I changed my theory a little. I tried to do a timeline of what happened, but I was having a problem with Mrs. Harrington. She couldn't have been placed in the casket until the day of the burial so she had to have been killed before that. "The problem I was having is that she closed out their bank account on the same day Mr. Langley was killed. The bank would have made her prove who she was and they'd have required a signature that matched the one she gave them when the account was opened.

"That means Mrs. Harrington had to be alive on that day, but then was killed before the burial. I don't think she was living with Mr. Harrington or she'd have known he didn't go to the hospital. I don't think she even knew he was supposedly dead. I think she was going to leave him and closed their bank account so she'd have some money."

I nodded.

"That makes sense. After they put Mr. Langley in the hospital, Mr. Harrington probably went to close the account so they'd have money to get away. When he found out his wife had already closed the account, he'd have had to do something to get that money back. She just didn't leave soon enough and he found her. It would be nice to know where she went during those two days, but I doubt we'll ever find out."

The next morning, Rochelle called the number on the website. I could only hear Rochelle's side of the conversation.

"Is this Weston Home Repairs and Remodeling?

"Fantastic? I need a storage building and your website says you do that sort of work. How would I go about getting an estimate?"

"I'm working the rest of the week. Could we do this on Saturday?"

"That sounds great. Where should I go...to your business address?"

"Well, I'd rather not show anyone my property until I decide on who I want to build it. I'm a single woman and well...you read all the time about how some single woman is attacked in her own home. It's not that I don't trust your company, but a woman can't be too careful, now can she? How about if I bring the drawings I downloaded off the Internet? Can he give me a quote based on those?"

"Great. Now, should I go to the business address or to somewhere else?

"Give me a second to write that down."

Rochelle wrote the address on her desk pad.

"OK, got it. Do I need to bring anything with me besides the drawings?"

"OK, I'll see you on Saturday about ten. So you'll know it's me, I'll be driving a red Kia Sportage."

"Bye bye."

Rochelle turned to me and grinned.

"It sounds like she doesn't want me to know where they live. I'm meeting them at the McDonalds in Crossville at ten. I want to get there early because of an idea I had. Right now, I have to find a place to download some storage building plans."

At nine-thirty on Saturday morning, we were sitting in the parking lot of the McDonalds. I was parked in a plain SUV with blacked out windows three slots down from Rochelle. That would let me watch her. I could also hear her because I'd brought a transmitter, receiver, and recorder home with me. The transmitter was hidden in Rochelle's bra. I'd be able to hear and record everything they said, and I'd be close enough that if he tried to do anything with Rochelle, I'd be able to stop it before she got hurt.

We'd also have video because Rochelle's Kia had a dash cam. Well, it looked a little like a dash cam anyway. What it actually was, was the Gopro camera I'd bought for use during long term surveillance operations. It would record anything that happened in front of Rochelle's Kia.

After Rochelle parked, she walked into the McDonalds. I figured she just wanted a cup of coffee while she waited. When she came out with three cups in a cardboard cup tray, I figured this must be the idea she'd come up with.

About ten after ten, a white pickup with Weston Home Repairs and Remodeling painted on the side drove into the parking lot and then around the building. I figured this was Mr. Weston.

He drove around until he got to where Rochelle was parked and pulled into the space two slots down from her, then got out and walked over to Rochelle's car. I turned on the recorder then.

"Mr. Weston? Oh, great. I was worried that you weren't going to come. Let me show you my plans."

Rochelle spread the pages of her plans out on the hood of her Kia, then tapped her forehead and gathered them all up again.

"God, sometimes it's a wonder I don't forget to put my shoes on. I figured you might like a cup of coffee while we talked so I went inside and bought some. I didn't have them put anything in it, but I had them give me a bunch of cream cups and some suger. Let me get you a cup now. I got a cup in case you brought the woman I spoke to on the phone. Did she come with you?"

The man said, "No. She's at home."

Rochelle handed Mr. Weston a cup, and when he took it, she said, "OK, now let's look at my plans."

Rochelle spread her plans out on the hood of her Kia then.

"This is about what I want, I think. I do want a concrete floor because I checked on the building code and a storage building this size has to have a foundation and a concrete floor. Can you do that or do I need to get somebody else to do it?"

He replied that he could put in a foundation and a concrete floor.

"Good. I was afraid I'd have to find somebody else. Now, I need to have lights out there too, but I don't want any wires visible. Can you put them underground or do I have to have an electrician do that?"

He replied that he was a licensed electrician so he could do that too.

Rochelle then asked if he could give her an estimate.

He sipped his coffee and stared at the drawings for a couple minutes before he answered.

"I'll need to take these plans back to my shop to do that. I can probably get you an estimate by Tuesday morning. It'll be just that -- an estimate. I won't be able to give you a firm price until I can look at the location so I know how much dirt I have to move."

Rochelle gathered up her prints and put them back in the binder and then quickly turned to hand them to Mr. Weston. In the process she knocked the cup out of his hand and it fell on the ground. Her acting made me smile.

"Oh God, look what I've done. Sometimes I'm clumsy as a cow on crutches. I'll go right inside and buy you another cup of coffee."

He said, "Thank you, but I really need to be going if I'm going to get you an estimate by Tuesday. Where should I send it?"

Rochelle surprised me again. I figured she'd give him some fictitious address, but she gave him the address of a house about a mile from where we live. She told me later that she thought he might drive past the house so she used a valid address, just not her address.

He went back to his truck, and as soon as he drove away, she took the transmitter out of her bra and spoke into the microphone.

"Think your lab will be able to get prints and DNA off this cup? You better come pick it up so there won't be any question about the custody of evidence."

It took the TBI a day to confirm the prints from that cup matched the prints Mr. Harrington had taken when he was in the Army. That was enough to get me an arrest warrant for him for Criminal Impersonation. Criminal Impersonation is just a misdemeanor, but it gave me an excuse to haul his ass into an interrogation room. I still didn't have a reason to arrest Marion, but I counted on him giving me that. Just as a safeguard, I asked the Police Chief in Crossville to put a car outside their house and to follow her if she left. When he heard my reasons, he agreed.

Mr. Harrington was smiling when I sat down across the table from him.

"I don't know what this is all about, but I haven't impersonated anybody. I'm just a guy trying to run a business."

I flipped through the pages of the folder I was carrying and pulled out the TBI print report.

"Well, according to the TBI, your prints match the prints Kenneth Harrington had taken when he enlisted in the US Army. That sounds like impersonation to me."

He scowled then.

"How did you get my fingerprints. I didn't give you permission."

I smiled.

"Remember meeting some woman in the parking lot of McDonalds in Crossville on Saturday? You dropped your coffee cup and drove away without picking it up. I was there and picked the cup up. I didn't need your permission because you discarded the cup."

"You were watching me?"

I nodded.

"I have been for the last week. You just didn't see me."

He shrugged.

"So what if I changed my name? People do that all the time."

"Yes they do, and usually it's to cover up something they've done that's illegal. Why did you change your name?"

I almost smiled when he shifted in his chair. He was going to lie out his ass.

"I had a problem when I worked in Illinois and I changed my name so people wouldn't know who I was."

"Where in Illinois?"

He shifted in his chair again. I was making him uncomfortable with my questions.

"It was in Chicago, I think."

I raised my voice a little to show him I didn't believe him.

"You think? You changed your name because of this problem, but you don't for sure remember where it was? Mr. Weston, that's pretty hard to believe. What was this problem?"

He really squirmed then.

"I...I was working construction and I got in a fight with another construction guy. He said he was going to tell the union about it and they wouldn't give me any other jobs. I changed my name so I could still get work."

"I see. When was this?"

He screwed up his face for a second and then said, "1997, September I think."

I didn't say anything for a while. I just opened my file and acted like I was looking at the papers inside. I kept the file facing me so he couldn't see what I was looking at. Then I looked up at him.

"Which union?"

He shifted position three times before he answered me.

"It was...it was Operating Engineers."

"And you think it was in Chicago."

He nodded.

"Well, that's interesting. If you changed your name, how did the union know about you? From what I've heard, they'd have wanted some background on you that said you knew what you were doing. In most cases that I know of, that means you'd have had to serve an apprenticeship with the same union. How did changing your name get you jobs since the union wouldn't know who you were?"

He shifted in his chair again.

"Well, in Chicago, things aren't done like in some places. I paid another union member to vouch for me."

I looked at my file again.

"I did some research about you, Mr. Weston. What I found out is you were working in Rockford in 1995 and doing a little moonlighting. In 1995, you got yourself in trouble when you didn't pay for the rental of a backhoe. The rental agency sued you and I have the court records right here. Since you were calling yourself Mr. Weston in 1995, but your problem didn't happen until 1997, it seems like you're lying to me.

He just shrugged and said that must be some other Kenneth Weston. I looked in my file again.

"No, it had to be you. The court confirmed your identity with the Illinois driver's license you showed them. The number is the same number you used to get a Tennessee driver's license as Kenneth Weston in 1999.

"The other thing is, according to the court records, you needed the backhoe because you were working for a contractor building a small office building. What you were doing was running some electrical conduits underground.

He didn't want to pay union scale so he hired you to do the work.

"I always thought that anyone who ran electrical circuits had to be a certified electrician. It's that way here in Knoxville and I can't believe Rockford is any different. Anybody can dig the trench, but if the electrical work isn't done by a licensed electrician, the contractor would never have gotten approval by the building inspector. How was it that you could do that if you were a backhoe operator?"

His answer was that he'd not run any actual wiring. All he'd done was put the conduits in the ground, and a licensed electrician had done the actual wiring. I shook my head.

"That's not what the court records show. The contractor testified you did all the electrical work. He said you told him you were a licensed electrician. Now, which is it? Are you a backhoe operator or are you a licensed electrician? If you paid some union member to vouch for you, that's fraud. If you told this contractor you were a licensed electrician and you weren't, that's also fraud. The fact that you continued to use the name Weston to do work in Tennessee is the definition of Criminal Impersonation in Tennessee."