If a Sociopath Commits a Crime Will They Do It Again
Jennifer Pan'due south Revenge: The inside story of a golden child, the killers she hired, and the parents she wanted dead
Jennifer Pan's Revenge: The inside story of a aureate child, the killers she hired, and the parents she wanted dead
Bich Ha and Huei Hann Pan were classic examples of the Canadian immigrant success story. Hann was raised and educated in Vietnam and moved to Canada equally a political refugee in 1979. Bich (pronounced "Bick") came separately, also a refugee. They married in Toronto and lived in Scarborough. They had two kids, Jennifer, in 1986, and Felix, three years after, and establish jobs at the Aurora-based car parts manufacturer Magna International, Hann as a tool and dice maker and Bich making car parts. They lived frugally. Past 2004, Bich and Hann had saved enough to buy a large home with a two-car garage on a tranquillity residential street in Markham. He drove a Mercedes-Benz and she a Lexus ES 300, and they accumulated $200,000 in the bank.
Their expectation was that Jennifer and Felix would work as hard equally they had in establishing their lives in Canada. They'd laid the background, and their kids would need to improve upon it. They enrolled Jennifer in piano classes at age four, and she showed early promise. By elementary school, she'd racked upward a bays example full of awards. They put her in figure skating, and she hoped to compete at the national level, with her sights set on the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver until she tore a ligament in her knee. Some nights during elementary schoolhouse, Jennifer would come up home from skating practice at 10 p.m., do homework until midnight, then caput to bed. The pressure was intense. She began cutting herself—fiddling horizontal cuts on her forearms.
As graduation from Form 8 loomed, Jennifer expected to exist named valedictorian and to collect a handful of medals for her academic achievements. But she received none, and she wasn't named valedictorian. She was stunned. What was the point in trying if no ane acknowledged your efforts? And yet, instead of expressing her devastation, she told anyone who asked that she was perfectly fine—something she called her "happy mask."
A close observer might have noticed that Jennifer seemed off, but I never did. I was a year behind her at Mary Ward Catholic Secondary in northward Scarborough. As far as Catholic schools go, it was something of an anomaly: it had the usual high academic standards and strict wearing apparel lawmaking, mixed with a decidedly bohemian vibe. It was easy to find your tribe. Bright kids and arty misfits hung out together, across subjects, grades and social groups. If you played three instruments, took advanced classes, competed on the ski team and starred in the school's almanac International Nighttime—a showcase of various cultures effectually the world—yous were cool. Outsiders were embraced, geekiness historic (anime lodge meetings were constantly packed) and precocious ambition supported (our about famous alumnus, Craig Kielburger, pretty much ran his clemency, Gratuitous the Children, from the halls of Mary Ward).
It was the perfect customs for a pupil like Jennifer. A social butterfly with an easy, high-pitched express joy, she mixed with guys, girls, Asians, Caucasians, jocks, nerds, people deep into the arts. Exterior of school, Jennifer swam and practised the martial fine art of wushu.
At 5 foot vii, she was taller than most of the other Asian girls at the school, and pretty simply plain. She rarely wore makeup; she had small, round wire-frame glasses that were neither stylish nor expensive; and she kept her pilus directly and unstyled.
Jennifer and I both played the flute, though she was in the senior stage band and I was in junior. We would interact in the band room, had dozens of mutual acquaintances and were friends on Facebook. In conversation, she always seemed focused on the moment—if you lot had her attention, you had it completely.
I discovered later that Jennifer'south friendly, confident persona was a façade, beneath which she was tormented by feelings of inadequacy, cocky-dubiety and shame. When she failed to win beginning place at skating competitions, she tried to hide her devastation from her parents, non wanting to add together worry to their disappointment. Her female parent, Bich, noticed something was amiss and would comfort her daughter at night, when Hann was asleep, saying, "You know all nosotros want from you is just your all-time—just practise what y'all can."
She had been a top student in uncomplicated school, but midway through Grade ix, she was averaging seventy per cent in all subjects with the exception of music, where she excelled. Using old report cards, scissors, gum and a photocopier, she created a new, forged report carte with directly As. Since universities didn't consider marks from Grade 9 and 10 for admission, she told herself information technology wasn't a big deal.
Hann was the classic tiger dad, and Bich his reluctant cohort. They picked Jennifer up from school at the end of the day, monitored her extracurricular activities and forbade her from attending dances, which Hann considered unproductive. Parties were off limits and boyfriends verboten until after university. When Jennifer was permitted to attend a sleepover at a friend's house, Bich and Hann dropped her off late at night and picked her up early on the post-obit morning. By historic period 22, she had never gone to a club, been drunk, visited a friend's cottage or gone on vacation without her family unit.
Presumably, their overprotectiveness was born of honey and business concern. To Jennifer and her friends, however, it was tyranny. "They were absolutely controlling," said one former classmate, who asked not to be named. "They treated her like shit for such a long time."
The more I learned near Jennifer's strict upbringing, the more I could relate to her. I grew upward with immigrant parents who also came to Canada from Asia (in their instance Hong Kong) with nigh naught, and a father who demanded a lot from me. My dad expected me to be at the top of my grade, peculiarly in math and science, to always be obedient, and to be exemplary in every other mode. He wanted a child who was like a trophy—something he could brag about. I suspected the achievements of his siblings and their children made him feel insecure, and he wanted my accomplishments to lucifer theirs. I felt like a hamster on a wheel, sprinting to see some sort of expectation, solely adamant by him, that was always just out of reach. Hugs were a rarity in my house, and birthday parties and gifts from Santa ceased effectually historic period 9. I was talented at math and effigy skating, though my male parent most never complimented me, fifty-fifty when I excelled. He played down my educational achievements, only like his parents had done with him—the prevailing theory in our culture being that flattery spoils appetite.
Jennifer met Daniel Wong in Grade 11. He was a year older, goofy and gregarious, with a big express joy, a wide smile and a petty paunch effectually his waistline. He played trumpet in the school band and in a marching band outside of school. Their relationship was platonic until a ring trip to Europe in 2003. After a performance in a concert hall filled with smokers, Jennifer suffered an asthma assail. She started panicking, was led outside to the bout omnibus and almost blacked out. Daniel calmed her down, coaching her animate. "He pretty much saved my life," she later said. "It meant everything." That summer, they started dating.
Of Jennifer'due south friends, I knew Daniel all-time. Nosotros met in my Grade 9 year at Mary Ward, and he would come over to my house nigh every day afterward school to spotter TV and play Halo on my Xbox. He would oft stick around and eat dinner with my family. Dan spoke to my parents in Cantonese, and my dad would regularly buy him Zesty Cheese Doritos—his favourite. When Daniel was in his final year at Mary Ward, we drifted autonomously, and midway through the yr, he transferred to Key Carter University, an arts school in North York. He was falling behind at Mary Ward, and, unbeknownst to me, he had been charged with trafficking after cops found half a pound of weed in his car.
Jennifer's parents assumed their girl was an A educatee; in truth, she earned more often than not Bs—respectable for most kids but unacceptable in her strict household. And so Jennifer connected to doctor her report cards throughout loftier school. She received early acceptance to Ryerson, only then failed calculus in her terminal year and wasn't able to graduate. The academy withdrew its offer. Desperate to keep her parents from digging into her loftier school records, she lied and said she'd exist starting at Ryerson in the fall. She said her programme was to do two years of science, then transfer over to U of T's pharmacology program, which was her father'due south hope. Hann was delighted and bought her a laptop. Jennifer collected used biology and physics textbooks and bought school supplies. In September, she pretended to nourish frosh week. When it came to tuition, she doctored papers stating she was receiving an OSAP loan and convinced her dad she'd won a $3,000 scholarship.
She would pack up her book bag and accept public transit downtown. Her parents assumed she was headed to course. Instead, Jennifer would get to public libraries, where she would inquiry on the Web what she figured were relevant scientific topics and fill her books with copious notes. She'd spend her free fourth dimension at cafés or visiting Daniel at York Academy, where he was taking classes. She picked upward a few twenty-four hour period shifts as a server at East Side Mario's in Markham, taught piano lessons and later tended bar at a Boston Pizza where Daniel worked as a kitchen manager. At home, Hann often asked Jennifer about her studies, just Bich told him not to interfere. "Let her exist herself," she'd say.
In order to go along the charade from unravelling, Jennifer lied to her friends, too. She fifty-fifty amplified her dad'southward meddling ways, telling i friend, falsely, that her father had hired a private investigator to follow her.
Afterward Jennifer had pretended to exist enrolled at Ryerson for ii years, Hann asked her if she was notwithstanding planning to switch to U of T. She said yes, she'd been accepted into the pharmacology plan. Her parents were thrilled. She suggested moving in with her friend Topaz downtown for three nights a week. Bich sympathized with Jennifer's long commute each mean solar day and convinced Hann that it was a good idea.
Jennifer never stayed with Topaz. Mon through Wednesday, she stayed with Daniel and his family unit at their home in Ajax, a big business firm on a quiet, tree-lined street. Jennifer lied to Daniel'south parents likewise, telling them her parents were okay with the organisation and brushing off their repeated requests to encounter Hann and Bich over dim sum.
After two more years, it was theoretically fourth dimension to graduate from U of T. Jennifer and Daniel hired someone they plant online to create a fake transcript, total of As. When information technology came to the ceremony, Jennifer told her parents that the extra-large class size meant there weren't enough seats—graduating students were immune just one invitee each, and she didn't want 1 of her parents to feel left out, so she gave her ticket to a friend.
Jennifer developed a mental strategy to deal with her lies. "I tried looking at myself in the 3rd person, and I didn't like who I saw," she later said, "simply rationalizations in my caput said I had to continue going—otherwise I would lose everything that ever meant anything to me."
Eventually, Jennifer's fictional bookish career began to collapse. While supposedly studying at U of T, she had told her parents about an heady new evolution: she was volunteering at the blood-testing lab at SickKids. The gig sometimes required late-night shifts on Fridays and weekends. Peradventure, she suggested, she should spend more of the week at Topaz's. Simply Hann noticed something odd: Jennifer had no compatible or central card from SickKids. So the next day, he insisted that they drop her off at the hospital. Every bit soon as the motorcar stopped, she sprinted inside, and Hann instructed Bich to follow her. Realizing she was beingness tailed past her mom, Jennifer hid in the waiting surface area of the ER for a few hours until they left. Early the adjacent morn, they chosen Topaz, who groggily told the truth: Jennifer wasn't there. When Jennifer finally came habitation, Hann confronted her. She confessed that she didn't volunteer at SickKids, had never been in U of T's pharmacology plan and had indeed been staying at Daniel's—though she neglected to tell them that she'd never graduated loftier schoolhouse and that her fourth dimension at Ryerson was also complete fiction.
Bich wept. Hann was apoplectic. He told Jennifer to go out and never come back, simply Bich convinced him to let their girl stay. They took away her cellphone and laptop for two weeks, after which she was merely permitted to use them in her parents' presence and had to endure surprise checks of her letters. They forbade her from seeing Daniel. They ordered her to quit all of her jobs except for teaching piano and began tracking the odometer on the car.
Jennifer was madly in love with Daniel, and lonely, also. For two weeks, she was housebound, her mother past her side virtually constantly—though Bich told Jennifer where her dad had subconscious her phone, so she could periodically check her messages. In Feb 2009, she wrote on her Facebook page: "Living in my house is like living under house arrest." She also posted a note: "No one person knows everything about me, and no ii people put together knows everything well-nigh me…I similar being a mystery." Over the bound and summer, she snuck calls with Daniel on her cellphone at dark, whispering in the night.
Eventually, she was allowed some mensurate of freedom, and she enrolled in a calculus grade to get her final high school credit. Nonetheless, in disobedience of her parents' orders, she visited Daniel in between pianoforte lessons. One night, she arranged her blankets to look similar she was asleep, then snuck out to Daniel's house. But she forgot that she had her mother's wallet. In the morning, Bich went into the room to get it and discovered Jennifer was gone. Bich and Hann ordered Jennifer to come home immediately. They demanded that she apply to college—she could still exist a chemist's shop lab technician or nurse—and told her that she had to cut off all contact with Daniel.
Jennifer resisted, but Daniel had grown weary of their secret romance. She was 24 and still sneaking around, terrified of her parents' tirades only non willing to exit home. He told her to figure out her life, and he broke off their human relationship. Jennifer was heartbroken. Soon thereafter, she learned that Daniel was seeing a daughter named Christine. In an endeavour to win dorsum his attention and discredit Christine, she concocted a bizarre tale. She told him a human had knocked on her door and flashed what looked like a police bluecoat. When she opened the door, a group of men rushed in, overpowered her and gang-raped her in the foyer of her business firm. Then a few days later, she said, she received a bullet in an envelope in her mailbox. Both instances, she declared, were warnings from Christine to leave Daniel alone.
In the jump of 2010, Jennifer reconnected with Andrew Montemayor, a friend from elementary schoolhouse. According to Jennifer'south later evidence in court, he had boasted about robbing people at knifepoint in the park near his abode (a claim he denies). When Jennifer told him near her torturous human relationship with her dad, Montemayor confessed that he'd once considered killing his own begetter. The notion intrigued Jennifer, who began imagining how much better her life would be without her father effectually. Montemayor introduced Jennifer to his roommate, Ricardo Duncan, a goth kid with blackness nail polish. Over bubble tea in between her piano lessons, according to Jennifer, they hatched a plan for Duncan to murder her male parent in a parking lot at his work, a tool and die company called Kobay Enstel, near Finch and McCowan. She says she gave Duncan $one,500, earnings from her piano classes, and they agreed to connect subsequently by phone to arrange the engagement and time of the hit. Just Duncan stopped answering her calls, and by early on July, Jennifer realized she had been ripped off. (Duncan says she chosen him in early July, hysterical, requesting that he come and kill her parents. He said he felt offended and said no, and that the merely coin she gave him was $200 for a night out, which he promptly returned.)
According to the constabulary, information technology was at this signal that Daniel and Jennifer, who were back in contact and exchanging daily flirty texts, devised an even more than sinister program: they'd hire a hitting on Bich and Hann, collect the estate—Jennifer's portion totalling about $500,000—and live together, unencumbered past her meddling parents. Daniel gave Jennifer a spare iPhone and SIM card, and connected her with an associate named Lenford Crawford, whom he chosen Homeboy. Jennifer asked what the going charge per unit was for a contract killing. Crawford said information technology was $xx,000, just for a friend of Daniel's it could be done for $ten,000. Jennifer was careful to utilize her iPhone for crime-related conversations and her Samsung telephone for everything else. On Halloween night, Crawford visited the Pans' neighbourhood—probably to scout the site. Kids in costume streaming up and downwardly the street provided the perfect cover.
On the afternoon of November 2, the program took an unexpected plow. Daniel texted Jennifer, proverb that he felt every bit strongly about Christine as she did about him. Suddenly everything was thrown into question. She texted Daniel: "Then yous feel for her what I experience for you lot, then call it off with Homeboy." Daniel responded, "I thought yous wanted this for you?" Jennifer replied to Daniel, "I do, simply I have nowhere to get." Daniel wrote back: "Call it off with Homeboy? You said you lot wanted this with or without me." Jennifer: "I want information technology for me." The adjacent solar day, Daniel texted, "I did everything and lined it all up for you." It seemed Daniel wanted out of the arrangement. Merely within hours, they'd reverted to their old ways, texting and flirting. Later that day, Crawford texted Jennifer, "I need the time of completion, recollect well-nigh it." Jennifer wrote back, "Today is a no get. Dinner plans out and then won't exist home in fourth dimension." Over the following calendar week, at that place was a flurry of text and phone conversations betwixt Jennifer, Daniel and Crawford. On the morning of November viii, Crawford texted Jennifer: "After work ok will exist game fourth dimension."
That evening, Jennifer watched Gossip Girl and Jon and Kate Plus Eight in her bedroom while Hann read the Vietnamese news down the hall before heading to bed around 8:xxx p.thousand. Bich was out line dancing with a friend and cousin. Felix, who was studying technology at McMaster Academy, wasn't home. At approximately 9:30 p.m., Bich came home from her line dancing class, changed into her pyjamas and soaked her feet in front of the Television on the main flooring. At 9:35 p.m., a man named David Mylvaganam, a friend of Crawford's, called Jennifer, and they spoke for nearly 2 minutes. Jennifer went downstairs to say good dark to Bich and, equally Jennifer after admitted, unlock the front door (a statement she somewhen retracted). At 10:02 p.yard., the light in the upstairs written report switched on—allegedly a bespeak to the intruders—and a infinitesimal afterward, information technology switched off. At 10:05 p.one thousand., Mylvaganam chosen again, and he and Jennifer spoke for three and a half minutes. Moments after, Crawford, Mylvaganam and a tertiary human being named Eric Carty walked through the front door, all 3 carrying guns. Ane pointed his gun at Bich while some other ran upstairs, shoved a gun at Hann's face and directed him out of bed, down the stairs and into the living room.
Upstairs, Carty confronted Jennifer outside her sleeping accommodation door. According to Jennifer, Carty tied her artillery behind her using a shoelace. He directed her dorsum inside, where she handed over approximately $2,500 in cash, then to her parents' chamber, where he located $1,100 in U.S. funds in her female parent'southward nightstand, and then finally to the kitchen to search for her mother's wallet.
"How could they enter the house?" Bich asked Hann in Cantonese. "I don't know, I was sleeping," Hann replied. "Shut upward! Yous talk likewise much!" one of the intruders yelled at Hann. "Where's the fucking money?" Hann had simply $60 in his wallet and said equally much. "Liar!" one human being replied, and pistol-whipped him on the back of the head. Bich began weeping, pleading with the men not to injure their daughter. I of the intruders replied, "Rest bodacious, she is nice and volition not be hurt."
Carty led Jennifer back upstairs and tied her arms to the banister, while Mylvaganam and Crawford took Bich and Hann to the basement and covered their heads with blankets. They shot Hann twice, once in the shoulder and and then in the face. He crumpled to the floor. They shot Bich three times in the head, killing her instantly, and then fled through the forepart door.
Jennifer somehow managed to reach her phone, tucked into the waistband of her pants, and dial 911 (despite, every bit she subsequently claimed, having her hands tied behind her back). "Assist me, delight! I demand help!" she cried. "I don't know where my parents are! … Delight bustle!" At the 34-second marker of the call, the unexpected happens: Hann can be heard moaning in the groundwork. He had awoken, covered in blood, with his expressionless wife'south body next to him, and crawled up the stairs to the master floor. Jennifer yelled down that she was calling 911. Hann stumbled outside, screaming wildly, and encountered his startled neighbour, who was about to leave for work, in the driveway next door. The neighbor chosen 911. Constabulary and an ambulance arrived at the scene minutes later, and Hann was rushed to a nearby infirmary, then airlifted to Sunnybrook.
York Regional Police force interviewed Jennifer just before 3 a.m. She told them that the men had entered the business firm looking for coin, tied her to the banister, and taken her parents to the basement and shot them. 2 days later, the law brought her in again to give a second statement. At their asking, she showed how she contorted her body to go her phone—a flip phone—out of her waistband to place a call while tied to a banister.
Holes began to emerge in Jennifer'due south story. For example, the keys to Hann'south Lexus were in patently view by the front door. If it were indeed a home invasion, why did the intruders not have the car? And why didn't they have a crowbar to arrive, or a backpack to carry the loot, or zilch ties to restrain the residents? And most of import: why would they shoot ii witnesses but leave ane unharmed? The police assigned a surveillance team to monitor Jennifer's movements.
Past Nov 12, Hann had woken upwards from his three-mean solar day induced coma. He had a broken bone nigh his eye, bullet fragments lodged in his face up that doctors couldn't remove and a shattered cervix bone—the bullet had grazed the carotid avenue. Remarkably, he remembered everything, including two troubling details: he recalled seeing his girl chatting softly—"like a friend," he said—with i of the intruders, and that her arms were not tied behind her dorsum while she was being led around the house.
On November 22, the police force brought Jennifer in for a third interview. This i adult a different tone: the detective, William Goetz, said that he knew she was involved in the crime. He knew that she had lied to him, and said it was in her all-time involvement to fess up. Jennifer, hunched over and sobbing, asked repeatedly, "But what happens to me?"
Over virtually four hours, Jennifer spun out an absurd explanation. She said the attack had been an elaborate plan to commit suicide gone horribly wrong. She had given upwards on life but couldn't manage to kill herself, and then she hired Homeboy, whose real name she claimed non to know, to do it for her. In September, however, her relationship with her begetter had suddenly improved, and she decided to call off the hit. Only somehow wires got crossed, and the men ended up killing her parents instead of her. Police arrested Jennifer on the spot. In the leap of 2011, relying on assay of cellphone calls and texts, they nabbed Daniel, Mylvaganam, Carty and Crawford, and charged all 5 with start-degree murder, attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder.
The trial began on March xix, 2014, in Newmarket. It was expected to last six months but stretched for nearly 10. More than 50 witnesses testified and more than than 200 exhibits were filed. Jennifer was on the represent seven days, bobbing and weaving in a futile attempt to explain away the damning text letters with Crawford and Daniel and the calls with Mylvaganam, and badly trying to convince the jury that while she had indeed ordered a hit on her begetter in August 2010, three months later she had wanted nothing of the sort.
Before the jury delivered the verdict, Jennifer appeared almost upbeat, playfully picking lint off her lawyer'due south robes. When the guilty verdict was delivered, she showed no emotion, but in one case the press had left the court, she wept, shaking uncontrollably. For the charge of first-caste murder, Jennifer received an automatic life judgement with no chance of parole for 25 years; for the attempted murder of her father, she received some other sentence of life, to exist served concurrently. Daniel, Mylvaganam and Crawford each received the same sentence. Carty's lawyer fell ill during the trial, and his trial was postponed to early 2016. The judge granted ii non-communication orders, one banning communication amongst the five defendants until Carty'due south trial is complete, and a second between Jennifer and her family, at the latter'south asking, effectively preventing Jennifer from speaking to her father or brother ever again. Her lawyer addressed the order in court. "Jennifer is open to communicating with her family if they wanted to," he said.
Hann and Felix both wrote victim bear upon statements. "When I lost my wife, I lost my girl at the aforementioned time," Hann wrote. "I don't feel like I have a family anymore. […] Some say I should feel lucky to exist alive merely I feel like I am dead as well." He is now unable to work due to his injuries. He suffers anxiety attacks, insomnia and, when he tin can slumber, nightmares. He is in constant pain and has given upwardly gardening, working on his cars and listening to music, since none of those activities bring him joy anymore. He can't bear to be in his house, so he lives with relatives nearby. Felix moved to the East Coast to find piece of work with a individual technology company and escape the stigma of being a member of the Pan family. He suffers from low and has become airtight off. Hann is desperate to sell the family home, merely no one volition buy it. At the end of his statement, Hann addressed Jennifer. "I hope my daughter Jennifer thinks most what has happened to her family and tin can become a practiced honest person someday."
This was a difficult story for me to write. It'southward complicated to study on a murder when yous were in one case friends with the people involved. Late last year, I drove up to the correctional facility in Lindsay a few times to encounter Daniel. In the harsh, white, empty halls of the massive edifice, even separated from me by a big pane of Plexiglas, he all the same seemed so familiar—a little butterball, happy, not bad jokes. His favourite color was always orange, but he tugged on his vivid pumpkin one-piece and said he'd cooled on the color lately, then bankrupt into a big laugh. He asked how I was doing, and I told him my parents had recently separated, and how it had been tough on me. He said that if he ever got out, he would give my dad relationship advice. I asked him if he ever wonders whether, if even fiddling things had gone only slightly differently, he wouldn't exist in prison. He shook his head and said thinking like that could drive a person mad. He said the all-time thing for him was to focus on reality: that he was in jail, and he had to brand the best of it. Daniel said he'd bonded with the Cantonese speakers in his block and was helping them suit to life inside. When I asked him about the instance, he clammed up, citing limitations set by his lawyer. He intends to entreatment, every bit do Jennifer, Mylvaganam and Crawford. Presuming they lose, they'll exist eligible for parole in 2035. Jennifer volition be 49, Daniel 50.
A number of questions linger. Was Jennifer mentally sick? A chemical imbalance would certainly brand the ordeal easier to sympathise. Just her lawyers didn't attempt to present her every bit unfit to stand up trial. That leaves a harder conclusion: that Jennifer was in complete control of her faculties. That she wanted Bich and Hann expressionless and put a programme into activeness to make it happen. That the guilt of years of her snowballing lies and the shame when information technology all came out drove her to murder.
It's not that simple, though. I believe that on some level, Jennifer loved her parents. "I needed my family to be around me. I wanted them to have me; I didn't desire to live alone […] I didn't desire them to carelessness me either," she said on the stand. She was hysterical on the telephone when she called 911 and teared upward in the courthouse while describing the sound of her parents being shot. Yet how do you believe a liar? Jennifer lied in all iii statements she gave to police. Under oath, she was repeatedly caught in tiny one-half-truths.
Some think her parents were to blame. "I retrieve they pushed her to that point," a friend of Jennifer's told me. "I honestly don't think Jennifer is evil. This is just two people she hated." In February, I submitted separate formal requests to interview Jennifer and Daniel. They declined. The result is the purgatory of not knowing what my former schoolmates were thinking, feeling and hoping for. And information technology's likely I never will.
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