We Have Your Daughter Read online

  “Then why did you just say you wanted to kill him?” I asked. “Where did that come from?” There was a long pause as John Ramsey appeared to think about this contradiction.

  “Forgiveness is constant work,” he said finally, “and as I just showed you, I’m not perfect. I’m not sure why it happened right now.”

  We had been talking about Charlevoix, with John offering descriptions and anecdotes in his gentle voice, when the conversation took its stark turn.

  John knew I was in Charlevoix to talk with him about this book, a definitive account of the investigation into JonBenét’s killing covering what had been discovered in the years since the murder, including new evidence … and new revelations related to the politics of the murder investigation. I wanted to know if he would cooperate. The case had dominated tabloid life and the public imagination for more than a decade by that point. No one seemed truly able to let it go.

  In 2000, both John and Patsy Ramsey co-authored a book about their daughter being killed. But their defense attorneys heavily edited The Death of Innocence, because they feared one of the parents would be arrested for the murder and the book would be used against them.

  John also wrote a faith-based book published in 2012, The Other Side of Suffering: The Father of JonBenét Ramsey Tells the Story of His Journey from Grief to Grace. It is about his struggles with his faith and the acceptance and mingling of his religious beliefs with regard to the multiple tragic deaths his family has endured.

  He did not speak freely in either of those books about the facts of JonBenét’s murder case.

  But the barricade that has held his emotions and candor back has at long last been breached with this book. We Have Your Daughter offers a very personal look at the Ramsey family and their story of what happened related to the investigation of JonBenét’s murder as reflected in interviews, documents, photographs and videos. It also includes observations from many other people who were involved in the case from the beginning.

  “I have always said the crushing blow was the loss of our child,” John Ramsey told me. “The police accusations and media lynching were just noise level stuff at the time. We were devastated and hurt so much that we couldn’t be hurt anymore by the actions that followed. Now, I view the police as incompetent bullies, made very dangerous because of their power, bias and inability to analyze or discern objectively.”

  His disillusionment with the police and clearing his family’s name are why John Ramsey agreed to cooperate with me in writing We Have Your Daughter.

  “I want you to tell the story of what happened from your perspective as an investigative reporter who covered this from the beginning,” he told me that June day in Charlevoix. “I will answer any questions. Just please get accurate information to the public. It matters very much what happened here. Investigate the circumstances. Do it for justice. If you affirm that either Patsy or I was involved, then go ahead and write it. Maybe some of what you learn will help find the killer.”

  “I have complete editorial control and will report what I find,” I reminded him.

  “Yes,” he said. “I will sign a document saying you have complete editorial control. I will not look at the book before it’s published unless you need me to do so.”

  The warning bells for the drawbridge clanged. Once on the hour and once on the half-hour, the bells rang out, the cars on Bridge Street stopped, the gates on the drawbridge glided smoothly upward, and the boats on Pine River Channel flowed through from one lake to the other. Some boaters blew their air horns in a signal to the bridge operator to please wait for them to get through. It was a cacophony of sound that gradually faded into background as I waited for John to speak once again.

  He drew in a long breath and seemed to gather himself as he straightened in his chair. “I no longer view the lynch-mob behavior of the media and the police incompetence and vengeance as just background noise,” he said. “They were fundamentally and deeply wrong in what they did. They affected our entire system of justice and our lives. They need to be held accountable, too. Can you tell people about that?”

  “I’ll try,” I said. “Will you tell me how you survived?”

  The question stopped him. He put his fingertips to his temples and rubbed them in a half-circle. His face looked pained. Here was the man alone, the survivor of a great storm that in many ways still washed down upon him.

  “Without Patsy by your side,” I continued, “can you look into the chasm at all that has been lost? To understand? To explain? To try to help find your daughter’s killer?”

  “I’ll try,” he said.

  3-D Floor Plans used by permission of the architect, Nolan Carl, 10-Nine Design Group, Las Vegas, Nevada.

  CHAPTER 1

  THE FAMILY

  Christmas decorations and police crime scene tape, December 27, 1996. Outside of Ramsey home.

  THE SOUND WAS JOYFUL, constant, often high-pitched and boisterous. The various scout troops—Brownies, Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts—voiced their excitement as they marched along the route of the ninth annual Boulder Parade of Lights with the gleaming fire trucks, school bands, brightly lit floats and, of course, Santa Claus. That year, 1996, the Boulder parade fell on December 6. It was a chilly night filled with colored lights and sparkles and with steaming exhausts from the floats and fire trucks and the visible breaths of those out in the cold.

  Four pretty girls, three younger ones and a teenager, were riding on the top of the back seat of a red convertible. They wore crowns, warm holiday coats, woolen gloves and their best smiles. They were representing AmeriKids, a non-profit youth development group in Denver. All of the girls, including six-year-old JonBenét Ramsey, were excited, shivering a little from the cold.

  JonBenét in Boulder Christmas Parade, December 6, 1996. © John Ramsey.

  JonBenét’s grandparents, Patsy’s mom and dad, walked next to the car and carefully watched JonBenét, just as adults from other families watched out for their children while the floats, cars and bands slowly started and stopped and started again in the typical dance of a local parade.

  Christmas was still the Ramseys’ favorite season. They loved the festivities.

  Being in the annual Boulder parade was a tradition in their family. JonBenét’s brother, Burke, who was nine, and his Scout troop had also walked or ridden on floats in prior parades, handing out candy to the crowd along each route, as they were doing this year. While she’d waited for the parade to start, JonBenét had called to her brother, “Burke! Burke! Please save some for me.” He’d stopped and teased her as he gave her a piece.

  Christmas was the best of times for the Ramsey family, but 1996 would be the last year that statement would hold true for them.

  Patsy had started decorating early that year. With the number of trees and decorations in her home, her housekeeper and others had also been very involved. After two years, the extensive renovations on the Ramseys’ 1927 three-story red brick and stucco house were finally finished, and Patsy was no longer ill from a frightening bout with ovarian cancer that had threatened her life since 1993. The family had much to celebrate.

  Burke’s Christmas tree in his bedroom.

  For their part, JonBenét and Burke “sort of” helped their mom with some of the five or six Christmas trees in the house. They picked out the decorations they wanted to hang on the tree in each of their bedrooms. While JonBenét invariably selected red, pink and blue bulbs and angels, Burke chose trains or planes for his tree. Another tree in an adjacent sitting room had a big golden angel on top of it.

  Sitting Room Christmas tree, main floor.

  JonBenét and Burke helping to decorate, December 1996. © John Ramsey.

  Santa Clauses of all kinds could be found in various corners in the Ramsey home. And there was garland on the spiral staircase that went from the main floor near the kitchen in the back of the home up to the second floor near JonBenét’s bedroom.

  Garland decorating spiral staircase.

&nbs
p; Spiral staircase.

  Burke’s room was also on the second floor, but at the opposite end of the house. Patsy and John’s bedroom stretched the length of the third floor. It was a converted attic space that now held their bedroom as well as closets and bathrooms. Staircases went down each end of their room to the second floor, past their children’s rooms and then on to the main floor.

  The priorities in the Ramseys’ lives had changed since mid-1993, when Patsy was given a “no-chance” prognosis after she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She’d entered an experimental treatment program whose exclusive inclusion allowed only Stage IV ovarian cancer patients. The treatments worked for her; she’d survived and was cancer free. Because of this, the Ramsey family lived less for the future and concentrated more on every day. And to Patsy, who never forgot her cancer could come back at any time, that included making Christmas as magical as she could. “I overdid the decorations. I know I did,” she later said, smiling. “But it was part of living in the moment.”

  As the Daily Camera, the local Boulder newspaper reported on December 21st, “a gathering was held by Access Graphics … with about three hundred employees where John Ramsey thanked everyone for the company reaching the one billion dollar mark.” (BPD Report #1-74.)1

  Ramsey Family with Santa Claus, December 1996 Ramsey Christmas Party. © John Ramsey.

  On December 23, the Ramseys had a Christmas party for some friends and their children. Santa Claus was there played by a man Patsy had hired before.

  The next day—Christmas Eve—JonBenét and Burke each went to play with friends while their mom and dad finished up some last-minute shopping for presents. JonBenét told the little girl she was visiting about a Secret Santa Claus who had promised he would visit her after Christmas. She also told this information to the little girl’s mother, and another mother also learned of this. Neither mother gave a lot of thought about JonBenét’s genuine delight in the promised “Secret Santa visit” until after JonBenét was killed. (BPD Reports #1-1167, #1-1149, #1-1874.)

  And no one, except the person who killed JonBenét, if that person is still alive, or any accomplice he or she might have had, knows whether that promised visit had anything to do with her death.

  That Christmas week, JonBenét drew a picture for her parents of baby Jesus in the manger with her brother and her standing next to the manger. It was one of her Christmas presents to them. On Christmas Eve night, the Ramseys went to church, then out to dinner at a friend’s restaurant. After that, they drove up to see the big star that had been installed on a hill above Boulder for the holidays. Then they returned home. “We set out food for Santa,” Patsy recalled. “John read The Night Before Christmas … and Burke, JonBenét and I would try to remember the next line in the story while he waited to tell us. We were happy.”

  “We spent some time shaking packages under the tree,” Patsy continued, “guessing what was inside and admiring how pretty some of the bows and wrapping on the gifts were. The big challenge of the night,” she added, laughing at the memory, “was getting them both to bed and asleep because as we all know Santa Claus can’t come and leave his presents unless the children are asleep.”

  “Patsy and I sat down briefly just to enjoy the evening after the kids were asleep,” John later reflected, “and to marvel at the blessings and happiness of our lives and just what plain fun this was.” And then the Ramsey family went to bed for what they knew was going to be an early Christmas morning.

  Drawing of JonBenét, Burke and Baby Jesus. Christmas present from JonBenét to her parents. © John Ramsey.

  Actual book read by John to the family on Christmas Eve.

  “The kids ran into the bedroom at 6:30 that morning,” John remembered. “They were thrilled. I made them stay in our room until I went downstairs and turned on the Christmas tree lights. I brought in Patsy’s bicycle from the garage. Burke’s and JonBenét’s new bikes were already in front of the tree.”

  Santa Claus had brought a look-alike doll for JonBenét and a Nintendo video game system for Burke. There were lots of toys and gifts.

  “We just smiled and laughed,” John continued. “JonBenét gave me a jelly bean dispenser, which she was very excited about as she knew I loved jelly beans.”

  Patsy talked about that holiday, saying it “was fun, happy, the way we wanted it to be, especially for our children.”

  The rest of the day was full of JonBenét and Burke playing with other kids in the neighborhood, showing off their new toys and trying them out wherever they could, indoors or out. Patsy began packing for their trip to Michigan scheduled for the next day. They were planning to meet with John’s two children from his first marriage to celebrate Christmas in Charlevoix, Michigan, where the Ramseys had a vacation home. At one point on that Christmas day, John went to Jefferson County Airport, which was about ten miles from the Ramsey home. He wanted to check out the private plane scheduled to transport them the next day and stow some luggage in it. Having their own plane, and the wealth that fact implied, would contribute to turning members of the public and law enforcement against the Ramseys in the months ahead.

  At one point in the late afternoon, Patsy heard her daughter’s voice call her from her bedroom. “Mom,” JonBenét said, “this is what I want to wear.” The little girl was referring to the clothes for an evening get-together with family friends and their children. When Patsy arrived in her daughter’s bedroom, she noted that the new outfit JonBenét held up had different colors than the traditional red the two had planned to wear that night.

  JonBenét jumping with excitement because Santa Claus has left a bicycle for her. © John Ramsey.

  Burke and JonBenét opening Christmas presents. © John Ramsey.

  JonBenét’s bedroom had pale pink walls and darker pink bedspreads on two twin beds. On one bed, a doll with blonde bangs, an elaborate white bonnet and a matching long, flowing white dress was propped up in a seated position against the headboard. A Santa Claus bear lay on a pillow at the feet of the doll. The bed skirts of the two beds matched the curtains on the bedroom’s three windows. A regular one-panel glass door led to a covered balcony outside the second-floor bedroom. It opened inward. A blue, white and pink-striped dresser stood between the two twin beds, and a tall beige dresser was next to JonBenét’s bed. The room’s closet doors were painted with a mural of blue, pink and green hats hanging off a colorfully painted hat pole.

  In one corner of the room sat a small Christmas tree decorated with red, pink and blue bulbs … and an angel.

  Child beauty contest trophies were displayed on shelves along one wall in the common area outside her bedroom.

  JonBenét was a beautiful little girl with blonde hair and a sweet and fun smile. According to her parents, she was a type A extrovert who liked to be busy and involved in a number of activities. She had a personality that was “on” all the time, they said. Her dad added that JonBenét was “effervescent.” She was also stubborn.

  JonBenét’s painted closet doors.

  Christmas tree in her bedroom.

  Pageant trophies in the common area outside her bedroom.

  “Johnnie-Bee,” Patsy encouraged, using the nickname she often called her daughter, “let’s wear the same colors like we planned.”

  “No, Mom,” JonBenét insisted, “this is what I want to wear.” The six-year-old liked to pick out her own clothes, and Patsy could rarely predict which outfit her daughter would finally select.

  Sometimes parents know when to give up and give in, and this was one of those times, Patsy decided. JonBenét ended up wearing what she wanted: a white top instead of the red one her mom had chosen.

  When everyone was dressed and ready to go, Patsy helped the children put on their warm winter coats and finally the family left home that Christmas evening for another festive holiday event.

  At the party, JonBenét nearly fell asleep on the floor while playing a game with her dad, her girlfriend, and her friend’s father. By the time the Ramseys left t
he party and dropped a few presents off to other friends that evening, JonBenét had fallen asleep from the many thrills of the day.

  Back at home around 9 p.m., John Ramsey carried JonBenét upstairs and placed her on her bed, where Patsy removed JonBenét’s shoes, left the white top on her daughter and replaced the bottom part of JonBenét’s outfit with a pair of long underwear. She then covered her daughter with her bedspread and kissed her on the forehead. “I took a moment just to smile and absorb this exhausted little girl sleeping before me and [having] what must have been happy dreams,” Patsy said. “Then I went to bed.”

  John helped Burke with a new toy for a few minutes until they both went to bed as well.

  John Ramsey’s Journal about Christmas Day 1996:

  JB begged me with her sweet little smile to help her ride her new bike around the block again before we went to dinner. I told her we were late and we would do it another time. I helped her ride it around the patio. I will always remember her face … saying, “Daddy, please help me ride my bike around the block, just once more.” Why didn’t I do it?

  CHAPTER 2

  THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS—MORNING

  Exteriors of Ramsey home reflecting its size.

  THURSDAY, DECEMBER 26, 1996*

  CHRISTMAS NIGHT, 1996, and into the early morning after was below freezing in Boulder. Even the neighborhood holiday lights seemed frozen, twinkling in the muted distance. The moon was just past full and, when it occasionally emerged from an overcast sky, made patches of snow on the ground turn silver. To the south and west, the university town’s landmark jagged rock formations called the Flatirons faded in and out of the gliding shadows. The house at 755 15th Street stood in apparent peace and silence, undisturbed by the ice-laced currents from the heights of the Rockies that had turned a 54-degree day into a frigid night. A passerby would have noticed a few lights on in the Ramsey home on the main and second floors and in JonBenét’s bathroom, all part of a normal routine for the family.