Evidence of Love: A True Story of Passion and Death in the Suburbs

by John Bloom

Betty was the pretty one. It was not just her mother and father who said so, but a verdict rendered in 1953 by popular ballot at the general store of Norwich, Kansas—Betty was three when she became Most Popular Baby—and then again in later years by the combined young manhood of Kingman and Harper counties.

Just in case you didn’t know Joe Bob Briggs wrote this.

By the time she made the latter entry, her preoccupation with Jimmy could have survived World War III.

Jackie used to divide her friends into two categories: “front-door” friends and “back-door” friends. Front-door friends were the ones who only came by when they had a reason; usually it was to talk about church business, or to ask Jackie to make a hospital visit, or something similar. Back-door friends were the ones who never knocked, who headed straight for the coffee pot, who felt free to smoke and talk “naughty,” and who were, inevitably, women who sang in the choir. These were the ones who knew they were welcome at the parsonage any time and who came often. These were the ones Jackie could bare her soul to.

Friday, June 13, was not a good day to be poor and alone in the vicinity of Dallas.

An incredibly Joe Bob line right here.

County felt beaten up, too. Now actively involved in the case were the Wylie Police Department, the Collin County Sheriff’s Office, the Dallas Police Department, the Texas Department of Public Safety criminal intelligence division, the Texas Rangers, the Dallas County Sheriff’s Office, and the Dallas Institute of Forensic Sciences. Chief Abbott was welcoming one and all, so there were no real battles over jurisdiction, as so often happens when small-town police departments try to deal with big-city crimes.

Then, in October, Jackie came face-to-face with the inevitable: she was offered another ministerial position. On the surface it was a much better job than the little one-horse church in Lucas. She would be in charge of the Wesley Foundation, a Methodist educational arm located on the campus of Midwestern University at Wichita Falls, where she could pursue her teaching ambitions while continuing to minister to the congregation of students and faculty who attended the campus church.

Candy and Pat spent the next week in Wichita Falls, fulfilling their long-ago promise to visit Jackie Ponder at her new campus home. Pat had a great time, wandering around the campus and looking the city over. Candy and Jackie had a few private sessions together, but when Jackie asked about the affair, Candy was reluctant to talk about it. One thing was clear, though, at least to Jackie. Candy was really going through some pain.

Murder is always news. Murder with an ax is the kind of news that gets onto the front page. Murder of a woman with an ax, followed by the mutilation of the body, is the kind of news that television stations can justify putting on their six o’clock reports, since it has the advantages of being bizarre and mysterious, with a hint of sexual deviancy. It helps when the victim is a white, middle-class mother of two who teaches elementary school.

On Friday the twentieth Pat Montgomery asked for a meeting with his supervisor at Texas Instruments. TI was a conservative, image-conscious company, and he thought it would be best they know that his wife was a suspect in an ax murder.

Candy had entered a new phase. She was remote and a little nervous, but she remained under control. She hadn’t broken down since the arraignment hearing, and there was no further evidence of nightmares. In jail, on Thursday night, she had turned everything over to God, and on Friday afternoon, just to make sure, she had turned everything else over to her lawyer.

She walked very deliberately, like a person who’s had too much to drink and tries to disguise it by doing everything too precisely.

“Candy, all they said is you’re innocent of murder.” “So?” “You’re still guilty of adultery. That’s what these people can’t accept.”

TEXAS!