Thanks everyone for your patience! Keep an eye out for an epilogue chapter shortly!
Previously: Tally resorts to tears; Jeannie catches up with her brothers.
Need to catch up on The Spring? Start with the chapter index here:
San Francisco Chronicle
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Thomas Family Files Wrongful Death Suit
San Francisco Chronicle Staff
Attorneys on behalf of the Thomas Family filed a civil lawsuit yesterday against Mr. and Mrs. James Edward Hartman, Jr. as well as their son, James Edward “Tripp” Hartman, III for the wrongful death of their daughter, Alexa Thomas.
Alexa Thomas’ body was discovered on the morning of November 1st in El Polin Spring in The Presidio, after attending a party hosted by Tripp Hartman at his family home on Presidio Terrace the night before. The Halloween party had a theme of “The Great Gatsby” after the summer blockbuster film by Baz Luhrmann. Apparently the “Gatsby” theme wasn’t too far off, with reports of generous amounts of alcoholic beverages on offer during the evening, all of which were paid for and supplied by Mr. and Mrs. Hartman.
The party ostensibly shut down around 9:30-9:45 that evening, but the teenage attendees (from some of the most exclusive prep schools in the city) went on to imbibe more alcohol and other substances at an “after party” at Inspiration Point in The Presidio — a short walk from the Hartman residence. It was at this after party location that Alexa Thomas disappeared from the general group only to be found dead the next morning.
“She was there, and then she wasn’t” a teen who attended the party admitted, speaking anonymously. “Everyone was wasted — there were these little Tito’s vodka bottles being passed around. Tripp called them “Trick or Tito’s” and was handing them out to everyone.”
The death of Alexa Thomas has been investigated by multiple jurisdictions including the FBI, US Park Police, and the San Francisco Police; their findings have been given to a Federal Grand Jury and are currently under review.
1:30 PM — Wednesday, November 19, 2014
US Park Police Headquarters, Ft Winfield Scott, The Presidio, San Francisco
Amanda went through her checklist, tucking each sheet into a plastic sleeve at the front end of the binder. This evidence index catalogued everything they’d found since November 1st, even the delicately smash feather butterflies where individually bagged and tagged with their geolocation on the Ecology Trail, and off of it in the blackberry patch. At least those that they could find.
Everything was wrapped and sealed and organized into a group of bankers boxes labeled with the case number “Thomas, A 110114”. Organizing the last box, Amanda saw a small pink notebook in a bag that still needed to be checked and sealed. She pulled the bag out and laid it on the tabletop, pulling the small book out to flip its pages slowly.
The handwriting was tidy, but still had the soft loopy-ness so common to teenage girls. The pages were barely half-full of little poems, doodles, and sometimes thoughtful entries. Flipping a few more pages, the section about the night at Lake Tahoe opened, the binding pliant and relaxed. An evidence flag stuck to the top of the entry to be found quickly when needed; Amanda skimmed the entry for herself, trying to decipher anything more in the shape of Alexa’s letters. The narrative was brave considering the circumstances — Amanda knew the girl must have been terrified in the moment. And yet, there must have been safety in putting it down in a book, knowing the moment was in the past.
I knew these voices.
Amanda shook her head slightly remembering herself as a teenager, remembering that she often found she knew more than she knew, which didn’t become clear until much later but the instinct had been there and fully alert. The next page held a short narrative about Nantucket and a brief description of a date with Andrew Barrington, and then a long note about swimming in the cold waters of Lake George which made Amanda smile slightly. Two more pages and a new, longer entry appeared, dated late August.
I saw him today at the pool — that Charlie guy that was at Lake Tahoe. The one that swam out to get me to come back to shore. The one with the blue eyes. I didn’t know it was him in the pool, but then I’d see him at the end of the lane every few laps and there was something familiar about him.
I don’t really remember him from the day in July — I know he drove home and I sat in the back seat but I didn’t even look at him the whole time. It’s weird because I remember talking to him on the dock that morning, but don’t remember him. I just felt Tally sitting next to me the whole time hating that I was breathing the same air as that bitch. If she hadn’t been in the car I would have told Carolina and Charlie everything, but I didn’t want her to know what I knew. And I knew it was her.
I told Carolina earlier today — she came over after Charlie had walked me home from the pool. He’d gotten out of the pool and went to the hot tub and I recognized him then but tried not to notice. I finished my set and got out to shower and change, but he was waiting for me by the locker rooms when I was done. I only told Carolina that I’d run into him at the pool and we’d walked home — he showed me how to cut through the park on the trails — there’s a short cut that goes right to my house! I didn’t even know. He pointed to his house on the hill too — a big brick house with lots of windows that’s right over the wall from the Presidio.
Carolina told me they’d dated but they were friends now and that we would see him at Academy. She told me Tally’d always liked him too, and probably still had a crush. Too bad, Tally.
Amanda chuckled slightly and closed the notebook, slipping it into its plastic bag and sealing it with tape.
“What’s happening, Amanda?” Paco’s cheerful voice at the doorway made her smile.
“Just making sure everything is in order for the defense when they need it — expecting there will be a defense to be made, that is. I just got these back from the federal prosecutor,” she sighed. “I’m always awed by how everything always fits so neatly into little boxes — people’s lives, just packed away.”
“Not their lives,” Paco countered, moving next to her, “just a part of their lives. What’s in these boxes won’t be what they’re remembered for — certainly not Alexa Thomas.”
“Alexa.” Amanda repeated. “Did you hear that Amazon has that new assistant thing — kind of like Apple’s Siri, but their’s will be called Alexa? Like you can talk to it and it tells you the time and temp and helps you make a shopping list? That’s crazy. The name is everywhere.”
“Yeah, I heard that.” Paco conceded quietly. “I guess they had to name it something. The timing sucks though.”
3:55 PM — Wednesday, November 19, 2014
El Polin Spring, The Presidio, San Francisco
The air was crisp with an unexpected mid-November cold front, prompting Paco to grab his warm uniform jacket from the back seat of the SUV. He’d parked at the end of MacArthur Avenue, making a slow walk toward the spring. A low slant of golden sun was beginning to die over the hilltop, hitting the treetops above but leaving the small gully that held the spring in a chilly shade. The days had been so clear and sunny, belying the extra low temperatures. Everything seemed extra autumnal, the leaves partially stripped from trees and bright red ilex berries peeking out here and there among the plants. The Presidio Trust crews had been through the area lately to trim back the blackberry and poison oak, keeping them well back from the trails.
Paco circled to the left side moving south, retracing his route from the morning of November 1st — the day felt like it had been years ago, not just a few weeks. Emerging into the center of the spring, he checked the stone well where the conduits converged, checking to make sure there weren’t any small logs or twigs backing up the water. The winter was still forecast to be another year of drought, but you never knew.
Paco sat on one of the log benches that were part of the outdoor classroom, just listening to the busy bird chatter as they wound up their day. He remembered the morning of the 1st, and how he didn’t hear any birds at all — the whole spring had been so perfectly still and silent, but for the gurgling water coming from the spring head. The water that was pink with Alexa Thomas’ blood.
He leaned back and looked up at the sky with just a few whispers of clouds, recognizing that his usual Park Police routine had reemerged after they’d closed the investigation. It was all so normal and sedate now after a good 10 days of people and….and what? Not confusion, not chaos — neither one was a fit for what working the case had been like. Hectic, active, heightened — all were probably better words. Overall it went fairly smoothly, even when Mark and Jeannie were bickering, or any one of them got frustrated, they all still worked together really well. It felt strange to admit it to himself, especially sitting just a few feet away from where Alexa Thomas had died, but collaborating on the case had been fun. A challenge that was awful of course, but stimulating and even a little exciting — especially compared to how rote the last week had been.
Paco drew a deep breath of cold air, letting it tingle in his nose for a long moment, realizing the light was fading every moment he sat there. A coppery red-tail hawk swooped low above him before swinging high up to one of the redwoods on the slope of the hill. Taking out his phone, he composed a text to Jeannie, Mark, Steph, Owen, and everyone else on the team:
He didn’t check the spring head when he left. That could wait for another time.
6:00 PM — Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Sea Ranch, Mendocino, California
Jeannie smiled to see Paco’s text come through when she turned her phone on that evening. The prospect of a Friendsgiving at the weekend sounded perfect after a week of pure solitude. But now that she was used to it, she looked forward to her final few days of quiet.
Her days had a simple routine: no phone, no computer, no TV, just waking up with the sun, long walks on the blustery beach or cliffs, and lots of thinking…feeling…and then writing about it. Greg had recommended journaling to help her process everything, that it would be a valuable way to help her “start to get things shifting”and to “let the feelings come”. Skeptical and reluctant, she did what she was told, trying to remember why she was doing all of this in the first place: to be better, not just for Chris but for herself. It was a self-imposed therapy she wasn’t sure would even work, but it felt like the right thing to do.
The first two days were hard. Not just because she finally felt safe to cry and even scream — which she did every day at the ocean, and her screams went so deep she startled herself — but because it was boring. Then, on the third day she woke feeling tired and headachey after crying half the night. She sat in the window with a cup of coffee and found herself entranced by the shades of blue in the wild ocean below. The light, the froth, the churning, the rocks…the noise. She wrote in the morning, and then in the afternoon she took her words outside and said them to the water, hoping they’d get carried away.
Chris called every night right around 6 to fill her in on her Dad and anything else she needed to know, but otherwise she spoke to no one. Chris convinced her they should hold off on the impulsive City Hall marriage and combine a small wedding with the family Christmas party that everyone agreed was due to be resurrected. But for right now that whole idea felt far away, but also entirely thrilling.
Chris’ number popped up on the screen as she re-read the text from Paco.
“Christopher — “
“Hi sweetheart. How was today?”
“Good…Bad…Beautiful…Cold. I don’t know. I’m tired mostly, but Greg said that would probably be the case.”
“So then you’re doing it right.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m doing it.” She giggled a little.
“You’re doing you: you’re figuring it out for yourself. That’s what you do.”
Jeannie considered this, especially coming from Chris. “Yeah, you’re right — well, I guess you’d know that better than anyone else.”
“I pay attention.” She could hear Chris’ smile in his voice.
“I know. I think I’m getting ready to come home though — I’ll head back Saturday.”
“Good. I miss you.”
“We have Paco’s party on Sunday too.”
“Yup - I have that down. We have to plan a party for ourselves too.”
“Yes…one thing at a time though.”
San Francisco Chronicle
Friday, November 28, 2014
Tripp Hartman Arraigned
By Margaret Jones-Spector and Ward Tennyson, Chronicle Crime Staff
James Edward “Tripp” Hartman, III surrendered himself at the Browning Federal Courthouse today in the Civic Center after being indicted by a federal grand jury with a true bill on Wednesday afternoon. In an unusual arrangement, the FBI agreed to delay unsealing the indictment by one day due to the Thanksgiving holiday when the court would be in recess. This also allowed Hartman (18) to spend the holiday with his family prior to his arraignment today.
The indictment listed one count of federal murder in the second degree, one count of conspiracy to commit bodily harm, and multiple counts of possession and distribution of a controlled substance. The indictment is the result of the multi-jurisdictional investigation into the death of Alexa Thomas on the night October 31st. The locus of the crime was on the federal land of The Presidio, specifically at Inspiration Point and its immediate area within the park.
Hartman III arrived for his official arrest and arraignment accompanied by his father, James Edward Hartman, Jr., as well as his father’s law partner, Eric Swain. The Hartman-Parisi-Swain law firm specializes in family estate planning, so it is unclear if the firm will represent Hartman III in his federal criminal case. Hartman III who arrived in a pair of khaki pants, striped Oxford shirt, and a navy blue blazer, was booked, photographed, and fingerprinted prior to his arraignment.
The Magistrate Judge set bail at $200,000.00 and required Hartman III to surrender his passport. Mrs Marilyn Hartman, requesting leniency for her son, asked if the family would still be able to take their Christmas vacation in Hawaii next month, stating: “We have reservations at the Mauna Kea.” Mrs Hartman was instructed by the court that no travel should be expected for the foreseeable future, as Hartman III would be released into parental custody to await trial. Mrs. Hartman then asked how her son, a senior at Xavier Prep, would be able to finish his final year of high school, to which the Magistrate Judge replied: “He can attend high school, ma’am, I’m sure the Jesuits won’t care as long as the tuition is paid.” The trial will likely begin sometime in late January or early February.
The second degree federal murder charge requires malice aforethought but without premeditation. This is unusual even in federal cases, which usually charge on the lesser federal manslaughter charge which is akin to criminal negligence. The conspiracy charge is unclear at this point, as no other conspiracists have been charged with Hartman III. The FBI is exploring separate charges against Hartman III for cyber exploitation (aka “revenge porn”), which is a misdemeanor. Hartman III may likewise be subject to additional state and local charges for possession and distribution of controlled substances once the Sheriff and DA have a chance to review the evidence. The Hartmans have likewise been served with a wrongful death lawsuit by the Thomas family which was filed last week.
Arresting officer, Agent Mark Greenberg, worked on the investigation into the death of Alexa Thomas from the beginning. Agent Greenberg stood at the back of the courtroom today, accompanied by Officer William Mayfield of the US Park Police and Officer Jean Hagen of the SFPD, both of whom worked on the investigation.
“We’re very happy that an arrest has finally been made,” Officer Mayfield commented, “and we’re glad that Alexa Thomas’ parents can hopefully see some justice for their daughter.”