Worth More Dead

of First Degree Murder. It was August 6, 2000, exactly two years after Carolyn Durall died.
    Jeff Baird spoke to several jurors after they were dismissed. They were curious about one aspect of the case. How had the police known where Carolyn’s body was? Now that it was over, he was able to reveal that Bob Durall led them to it and that the State had stuck to its agreement not to introduce that detail during his trial.
    Carolyn’s family, friends, and coworkers hugged each other. They knew they could never have a truly happy ending, but her boss, Roseann Watson, could say, “We wish we could bring her back, but at least he didn’t win this one.”
    On October 6, 2000, Robert Durall appeared in Judge Deborah Fleck’s courtroom for sentencing. He had shown no feelings during his trial. But now in the sentencing phase, video images of Carolyn brought her back to life one more time. She was there on the screen as music played. There was Carolyn on horseback, showing her skill as she gracefully controlled her beloved horses. There she was ice-skating, pregnant with their babies, cooking in her kitchen, hugging her children, laughing with her family. There was Carolyn with Bob and Denise and Gary. There was Bob’s hand resting protectively on his wife’s shoulder.
    For the first time, the prisoner’s eyes filled with tears. Was he weeping for her or for himself?
    Judge Fleck looked at him with disdain. She remarked that he was a man with an education, a church leader, one who was flourishing in his job and well thought of by his community, but also one who was typical of abusers—apparently successful men who dominate their partners with psychological abuse and intimidation. The murder he committed was an example of “aggravated domestic violence, preceded by a pattern of psychological abuse.”
    The judge was not impressed with him, and characterized him as a “sniveler” by his behavior during the trial. He might have gone into her courtroom expecting a twenty-six-to thirty-year sentence, but Judge Fleck delivered an exceptional sentence. He would spend forty-six years and eight months in prison for the premeditated murder of the wife who had sought only freedom.
    “Freeedom,” the web prowler, had lost his. At 43, he was headed for a cell.
     
    Carolyn and Bob’s children live with her parents in another state, and their last name is no longer Durall. Nor is that name on her gravestone. The children are doing well, as well as they can, given their great loss at a tender age. They see their old friends and are exceptionally gifted. Carolyn’s children can look at the memory books her friends made for them so that they will always know who their mother was.
    The family that raised Bob so lovingly suffered, too, and no one blames them for what he became. But nothing, of course, will ever be the same.
    Whenever those who loved Carolyn see a butterfly, they think of her. They can be proud that they did their very best to find her and to be sure that her killer is paying for the loss of her life.

WORTH MORE DEAD

    Roland Pitre, 22, a U.S. Marine stationed in Iwakuni, Japan, 1974. He was a joker and something of a liar, but his buddies liked him well enough. He was already skilled at martial arts.

Maria Archer spent hours on the witness stand in her own defense, recalling her passionate affair with her judo instructor, Marine Corps sergeant Roland Pitre, and the way it ended. She was both demure and emotional as she denied any guilt whatsoever in the tragic murder of her navy lieutenant husband, Dennis. (Leslie Rule)

Maria’s attorney, Gil Mullen, a former Seattle police officer, gives her a hug at the end of her trial. (Leslie Rule)

Maria Archer on trial for the murder of her husband, Dennis, in 1980. She testified most emphatically in her own defense, denying any knowledge of a plan to kill him. (Leslie Rule)

Steven Guidry sits at the defense table during the joint murder trial for himself and Maria Archer, a woman he had never met, although she was his best friend’s former lover. The jurors would decide that the person behind Dennis Archer’s murder was not on trial. (Leslie Rule)

Detective R. L. Edwards of the Island County Sheriff’s Office tracked down the man responsible for the murder of Lt. Dennis Archer in his home in 1980. He expected that his quarry would be in prison for thirty years, but he was surprised to find that wouldn’t happen. (Leslie Rule)

Roland Pitre, 1987, out of prison