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He was six feet tall, 200 pounds, muscled. But maybe he saw that, in a sense, they were one.
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Maybe he realized he could turn that love against them, mercilessly, use it to control them in their own home, each subdued by the threat that he would kill the other. Maybe he also saw their love for each other, noticed it in silhouette or on a sidewalk, a love that was exploding that summer, making them inseparable, a love that had grown into plans for a commitment ceremony that fall.
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Maybe the man saw that these women were keeping some windows open at night.
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Louis summers, thought it ridiculous to install air conditioning in Seattle, the court was told.
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Butz, a brown-haired dynamo raised in much hotter St. Maybe he'd noticed the women around the neighborhood during the day, both attractive, both shorter than him, working in their front yard, or attending a local festival, or heading to and from their favorite bar, Loretta's. It would have been easy for the man to approach their home, unseen, through this park at night. The prosecutor had also pointed out that the women only had a partial fence in their backyard, the yard where they liked to sit on warm evenings, staring at the sky above the South Park Community Center and the trees in the large surrounding park. A young South Park girl named Diana Ramirez had already told the court that the man looked familiar. Maybe he stalked them, looked in their windows, decided they would be his victims. At least, then, there'd be some sort of arc to the story. A juror, in order to ease into the reality of what occurred, might first need to imagine how the man picked these two women. What happened to her and Butz in that house in the early morning hours of July 19, 2009, is hard to comprehend. She appeared to understand why people might need to hear these answers, though. When she and her partner lived in the house, she noted, "I didn't spend a lot of time staring in my own windows."Įveryone in the courtroom laughed a small laugh-a laugh of nervous relief, because here was a woman testifying about her own rape, and the rape and murder of her partner, and yet she was smiling at the current line of questioning, at the weird perceptual cul-de-sac to which it led.
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Would your silhouettes have been visible through that sheer fabric at night? She narrated with a red laser pointer for the prosecutor and the jury: These windows had curtains that couldn't be seen through. Now it was a two-dimensional schematic, State's Exhibit 2, set on an easel next to the witness stand. When the two of them lived in this house, it was red, a bit run-down, much loved, filled with their lives together, typical of the neighborhood. She answered the prosecutor's questions, pointing to a map of the small South Park home she used to share with her partner, Teresa Butz, a downtown Seattle property manager. He asked: Which windows in the house on South Rose Street, the house where you woke up to him standing over you with a knife that night-which windows had curtains that blocked out the rest of the world and which did not? The prosecutor wanted to know about window coverings.