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“On the top is a copy of the speeding ticket your client received on May 1, four years ago, the day after Eric Travers went missing from his boat. Evidence that your client was in Puget Sound at the time. Then, a hotel receipt where he stayed for two nights, near the dock where Travers kept his boat. Then, a receipt of your client renting a motorboat the same day that Travers went out—from the same dock.”
“This doesn’t prove that my client had anything to do with his disappearance.”
“The fourth page is a photo of your client’s vehicle thirteen years ago—a pickup truck he owned at the time—parked at the trailhead leading to Mowich Lake, the weekend that Brian Stevens and Jason Mott disappeared.”
“Which means nothing.” He frowned, clearly not understanding why there was a photo of his client’s truck at all from that time.
“Neil was obsessed,” Matt said, “and he spent three years tracking down people who had been at Mowich Lake that weekend. It was Memorial Day, a lot of visitors. He spoke to dozens of people, asked to see any photos they had, looked through social media pages, and one family had taken pictures in the parking lot when they arrived. Mr. Avila’s truck was there.”
“It’s still not going to prove—”
“I’m going to cut to the chase,” Matt said. He’d been watching Avila’s expression, and he was ready to talk. Matt had to get the lawyer to let him talk. “We have a dozen FBI agents now reopening five cases—five deaths that had been ruled accidental, but Neil Devereaux believed were murder. Mott and Stevens. Eric Travers. Missy Douglas. And Billy Clark.”
Avila began to shake.
“Your client killed those five people, and if Neil could get this information—” he gestured toward the folder “—as a retired FBI agent, think what a dozen active and dedicated FBI agents will be able to find.”
“I—” Avila began.
The lawyer interjected. “Before my client says another word, I need a plea deal in writing.”
Matt pulled out a paper from his pocket. “The best I can do is take the death penalty off the table.” He slid over the agreement to the lawyer. It basically said if Avila had nothing to do with the bombings but confessed to any other capital offenses, he would not be eligible for the death penalty.
“I’m going to need more.”
“No,” Avila said. “No. Just—no. I’m not going to put my family through a trial. Through...everything. I’m just not going to do that. All I want...if my nieces want to see me...after this...after... I...I just want to stay close. As close to them as I can so they can visit.”
“That I can do,” Matt said, with a glance toward the one-way mirror. There was no knock, no sign to stop the agreement. “I will make it happen, if you’re honest with me right now.”
“I never planned on killing anyone. It just...happened. I followed Brian at Mowich Lake. It was a fluke, really—I saw them at a gas station in Pullman, I was in town interviewing for a teaching position, and just followed them. They were laughing, and all I could think about was how my life was over. I couldn’t play ball. I’d lost my girlfriend. I’d lost everything...and I was going to confront him. But I didn’t know what to say, so when they invited me to go midnight fishing, I went. One thing led to another and I pushed Brian into the lake. Jason tried to get him out—the water was cold, freezing. And I pushed Jason in but he hit his head on the boat and he floated. I think he was unconscious. Maybe dead. It was so dark. I took the boat back to the dock. I didn’t plan to kill them... I just wanted them to hurt like I hurt.”
Neil was right. All along, Neil had been right.
“Missy Douglas.”
Tears came. Matt didn’t know if they were to try to garner sympathy or if he was truly remorseful. “I loved her. I never wanted to kill her.”
“What happened to Missy?”
“When I found out she was engaged, I just wanted to talk to her. Her fiancé wouldn’t let her—how could he stop her? He said she didn’t want to see me and I...I was so angry. I just wanted five minutes! I followed them to the mountain. She went walking in the morning before anyone was up and...and I pushed her. I didn’t want to, it was like I couldn’t help myself. I loved her. I’m so sorry.”
In the end, Damon Avila confessed to all five murders. Eric Travers because he had been given the promotion that Avila wanted, and Billy Clark out of jealousy. It had been spontaneous, like the first two. He came across Billy on the road. Billy had been driving fast, and it reminded Avila of how he shattered his leg. He didn’t intend for him to die, just to be hurt. To know how Avila felt. And it was after that that Avila started to lose sleep, to feel out of sorts. The guilt began to set in, and when Neil Devereaux started looking at him suspiciously, he knew Neil knew.
“Did you work with Marcy Anderson to plant the bomb on theWater Lily?”
“No. I swear. I knew nothing about her plan. I don’t know anything about the C-4. I didn’t take it, she didn’t tell me anything. But—she told me that Neil suspected me of murder. She said he’d asked for her help, but that I didn’t have anything to worry about because he didn’t have any hard evidence, only a theory.”
“Did you find it at all suspicious that a local deputy was willing to overlook murder?” John interjected.
“No—not really. We were friends. She said I had been her only friend when she arrived, and she knew how it felt when someone betrayed you.”
John leaned forward. “Did you tell her that you killed Brian and Jason? The others?”
“I...I said it was an accident. Which was true about Billy—I didn’t mean to kill him. And the others, they were just spontaneous. I didn’t really plan it, I just saw red and pushed.”
Matt wasn’t certain he believed that the murders were spontaneous and unplanned, but Avila confessed to all of them.
And Marcy knew. She knew and that was how she was able to frame him. It was almost a perfect crime.
