Sleep In Heavenly Peace (Pinnacle True Crime) by M. William Phelps Page B

down a crowded street.
    “Officially, homicide—under New York state penal law—includes murder, manslaughter, criminal negligent homicide, and abortion (illegal),” a former New York state cop with over twenty-five years of law enforcement experience explained. “Murder first and second are actual charges, whereas homicide is not. When you investigate a ‘homicide,’ it’s not necessarily a murder. But when you investigate a murder, it’s always a homicide.”
    At first, Thomas and Weddle believed that whoever was responsible for wrapping up those babies and hiding their bodies had not, perhaps, intended to kill them, but rather had been there when something terrible happened and decided to cover it up. They weren’t so sure it was Odell, yet they had good reason to consider she either knew who had done it, or had participated in it with that person.
    After Weddle explained to Odell how they had found photographs of family members among her items, Odell admitted she had left the photographs behind. It was, essentially, the first time she had admitted to anything.
    “I didn’t take anything,” she said, “that wasn’t absolutely necessary, like the kids’ clothing, my clothing, clothing that they needed, you know, that we needed to change into.”
    Thomas and Weddle wondered why a mother—obviously a poor mother, struggling to make ends meet, someone who couldn’t even afford to pay for the storage unit—wouldn’t take her children’s clothing. The only conclusion that made any sense was that Odell and her family were running when they left Arizona. Otherwise, why would they just up and leave without taking all of their personal possessions?
    Thomas, sitting, listening, decided to take the questioning down a different path. It was time to stop dodging the issue, put the facts on the table, and see how Odell reacted.
    “Do you have any idea,” Thomas asked, “why the bodies of three babies would be in these boxes inside the boxes that were taped shut and marked with your identification, such as ‘Mom’s, Doris’s , Alice’s , all your court papers, anything like that?”
    Whoever had packed those babies had packed them in such a way that he or she didn’t want them to be found. It was clear from the way they were packaged so carefully.
    Odell shot back immediately, “No, no idea. Holy cow. I would have no idea. I’m sorry. I wish I did.”
    “We would, too,” Weddle said. He was understandably frustrated. He could sense Odell knew more than she was willing to concede.
    “This is…all new to me,” Odell said.
    “Is there any way any of these babies could have come from any of your kids without your knowledge? Did anything like that ever happen in your home, or did your daughters ever say anything to you about being pregnant? Anything like that?”
    “Not that I’m aware of. No.”
    “These aren’t miscarried fetuses,” Weddle added, letting Odell know they knew more than they had been giving away, “just a few weeks old. These are full-term babies.”
    Neither Thomas nor Weddle had heard from forensics by this point, but every doctor involved had given an early opinion that the babies were born full-term, which meant the babies could have been delivered alive and killed afterward, or had died during delivery. It wasn’t a long shot to think someone Odell knew had hidden pregnancies, decided to deliver by herself, and discarded the children. It happened. Today, perhaps, more than any other time, teens were having children. Every year, there were stories of girls showing up at their high-school proms, giving birth in the bathroom, and trying to flush the babies down the toilet. Babies were found in Dumpsters, on the side of the road, in back alleys. It wasn’t such a stretch, Thomas and Weddle assumed, to believe one of Odell’s children had delivered the children and discarded them.
    “Now, these babies,” Thomas said, “are currently being processed for DNA. Would you be willing