Until six months ago, David Westerfield hosted barbecues by his pool, fixed dinner in his remodeled kitchen and relaxed on white leather sofas in his four-bedroom house. Posted on 08/05/2002 8:59:13 AM PDT by FresnoDA
By Kristen Green
UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER
August 5, 2002
Until six months ago, David Westerfield hosted barbecues by his pool, fixed dinner in his remodeled kitchen and relaxed on white leather sofas in his four-bedroom house.
He ran a business from home, logging onto one of several computers. He took his plush motor home on trips to the desert, where his children and friends played on his numerous sand toys.
Today, his Sabre Springs home is on the market for $480,000 and his Toyota 4Runner, motor home and computers are in police custody. No matter what the verdict in his capital murder trial, life as David Westerfield knew it will never be the same.
After he was charged Feb. 22 with kidnapping and killing his 7-year-old neighbor Danielle van Dam, Westerfield was incarcerated in the 17-story County Jail in downtown San Diego. Because of security concerns, he was placed in isolation on the third floor, the building's medical unit.
His cell is equipped with the basics. A television is the only perk. The floors are cold, hard concrete. So are the beds. Three inches of mattress cushions his back at night.
The cell is painted white and furnished with a tiny, built-in desk, a urinal and a sink that doubles as a water fountain. On days when court isn't in session, Westerfield doesn't see much else.
"There's little opportunity for him to do anything other than watch TV or read," said Sheriff's Capt. Ken Culver, who runs the jail.
Westerfield has limited contact with anyone other than the guards. He can leave his cell, with an escort, to make phone calls, and he gets visitors several times a week.
During his incarceration, his attorneys and their staff members have met with him more than 50 times. He's had six sessions with a couple of psychologists.
He's allowed two 30-minute visits a week from friends and family. His sister stopped by 10 times, and his ex-wife and two children have visited at least a dozen times.
After visits, he returns to his cell, where he eats his meals, reads books, writes letters, watches television and sleeps.
Westerfield was moved into an isolation cell not as disciplinary action but because he was threatened. His first day in the facility, inmates drew pictures of him with a noose around his neck and screamed that they wanted him to die.
"Since then there have not been any issues with him," said Culver, who noted that Westerfield is respectful toward deputies.
Culver said it's unlikely that other prisoners know where Westerfield is. He showers alone and occasionally is allowed access to a gymnasium, also alone. He hasn't been outdoors since he was booked.
His life is not only restricted to his cell, it is tightly monitored. Deputies and video cameras record his every move.
Inmates are awakened at 4 in the morning, and breakfast is served within a half-hour so those with scheduled court appearances can be transported to courthouses.
Lunch arrives between 9:45 and 10 a.m. and dinner usually is at 4 p.m. The lights are out by 10.
Meals are produced en masse in an Otay Mesa facility and delivered to the Front Street jail. The meals, which range from fried chicken to casseroles, are reheated on individual trays in a big oven, the way airline flight attendants heat in-flight meals.
Westerfield's meals are delivered to his cell, while most inmates eat with others in central dining areas.
On court days, he changes into a suit, which sometimes has been dry-cleaned overnight.
Beneath his jacket, he puts on a metal waist-belt that has chains that cuff his arms. Then he is escorted from his cell to a pedestrian bridge that stretches from the County Jail through the old jail next to the downtown courthouse, and then to the courthouse.
During the trial, his restraints are unhooked. Westerfield sits at the defense table in a suit and tie, laughing occasionally at the judge's jokes and smiling or waving at friends who testify.
At lunchtime, when his attorneys, the jury and court staff head off to lunch, he's locked in a holding cell behind the courtroom and handed a jail-packed sack lunch. It's typically a peanut butter or bologna sandwich, an apple or orange and a drink.
After the court proceedings, deputies lead him back through the crosswalk to the jail.
When he gets there, he changes out of his suit and back into his blue jail uniform. Then he's led to the sparse, white cell that, for now, is home.
s
Ditto
A dozen ways she could have gone in it...yes, even with her brothers.
sw
If my daughter was missing I sure wouldn't lie or cover up anything... I wouldn't want anything to get in the way of finding her.
Unless you were involved in causing and then hiding her death. If that were the case, you would throw every ounce of confustion at them, dog beds, door alarms, pizza, video games and beer.
You might even sneak into the house two doors away and toss orange fibers around the laundry and master bedroom. Just like you threatened to hide a business card in a bike once.
You might even work real hard at convincing folks that you hated the guts of the scapegoat you set up, perhaps even to the point of maddogging him.
Oh, but wait, you're a decent parent, so maybe someone else we know of would do it. /sarcasm
Where we part ways, is I don't AGREE with Westerfield fitting the description. Simple as that.
sw
VERO BEACH, Fla. (AP) - The wife of "America's Most Wanted" host John Walsh has filed for divorce and sought custody of the couple's two children.
|
In a petition filed at the Indian River County Courthouse, Reve Walsh said her 31-year marriage was irretrievably broken.
Neither Reve Walsh nor her West Palm Beach attorney, Georgia Newman, immediately returned calls seeking comment.
Reve Walsh is seeking alimony, child support, exclusive use of the marital home, medical and other insurance, attorneys fees and costs and equitable distribution of their assets, according to the petition, which was filed earlier this month.
John Walsh acknowledged in court documents that "there are marital difficulties at this time," but denies the marriage is irretrievably broken.
He asked the court to delay the divorce hearing until he and his wife can attend marriage counseling.
The Walshes' son, Adam, then 6, was abducted July 27, 1981, from a Broward County Sears. His head was found 14 days later and 120 miles away in a canal on the west side of Vero Beach.
Adam's death led his parents to co-found the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Alexandria, Va., in 1984.
"America's Most Wanted" has been credited with helping capture 681 fugitives over a 15-year period, according to a report of the Florida 2001 Missing Children Day ceremony in Tallahassee.
Most of the adults in this case are pure losers...and no one can justify their actions to any of us..from child porn collection to joint smoking/spouse swapping. But, even losers can grieve and be innocent of murder...and we've been given no evidence to support the theory that the parents are the perps. The child porn is teh binding agent for some of us fres....when I say that it's not to get you upset or to challenge you. It's just how some of us feel fres.
I never rode in the back of a limo...Not once.sw
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.
