2 - The Night of the Visitation 45:33

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Always Night Pads will do their up to 100% leak protection thing. Shop for Always in-store or online, wherever you get your pads. The medical examiner leaned forward, checked the toe tag against his chart, and started his examination. White female, weight 120 pounds, height 65 inches, naked except for one white sock on the left foot. Age?

Well, almost twenty. Superficial cuts to the throat and right shoulder. More than a dozen of them. Plus four shallow stab wounds. Evidence of rug burn on the face. Bruising to the left temple and a split lip. Punched? No visible signs of sexual assault. Hemorrhaging in both eyes. Yes. Hyoid bone. Broken.

Indication choking. Large cut at the base of the cranium, three inches long, skull fracture visible. Yes, the medical examiner thought as he returned to his notes, that is the blow that separated soul from body. According to the chart, she was found about 6.30 in the evening. The body cold. Rigor had set in. Blood settled. The medical examiner figured she'd likely been dead six, maybe seven hours by then. So estimate a time of death between...

11 a.m. and 1 p.m.? Evidence from the scene would likely give a more complete picture, but as the medical examiner stepped away from the gurney and washed his hands, he could imagine how it probably went down. A four-phase attack, a punch, choking, a life-and-death struggle in which the attacker tried and failed to slash a throat, and then a crushing blow to the back of the head.

While the young woman was lying face down on the floor, she'd clearly been hit with something heavy. From start to finish, the entire attack likely lasted five minutes tops, he thought. He shook his head, imagining her terror. Over at the Russellville Police Department, investigators were busy trying to fill in the gaps.

From what they could tell from Nona Dirksmeyer's phone, she had been in close contact with a couple of young men in the weeks before her death. Men other than Kevin. And judging from their text messages to Nona, some seemed to be more than friends. More than a hundred text messages from one of them. Messages like the one that read, Why did you lead me on? He'd certainly have to be questioned. He had arrived in Mesa, Alabama.

By the time Nona Dirksmeyer was laid to rest a week after her murder, the Russellville police had a list of six or seven potential suspects, but one stood out. And the chief wanted the public to know his department was closing in on the killer. In this episode...

You will hear from Nona Dirksmeyer's parents. That's about the hardest thing a person can ever do is tell the mother of their daughter that their daughter is dead. What was it like for you? Pretty horrible. We'll take you inside the interrogation room as investigators confront their primary suspect. I know what I know what I know. And I know that your prints are in her blood.

On the murder plan. And you'll hear about the desperate act of a father trying to protect his son. I thought, well, I'll get their attention. So I stuck a chair through the wall. I'm Keith Morrison, and this is Murder in Apartment 12, a podcast from Dateline. Episode 2, The Night of the Visitation. There was a reason why 19-year-old Nona Dirksmeyer was living alone the night she died.

And that reason traced back more than a year before her murder to a late summer night in 2003. It was one of those August nights in Arkansas when crickets hum and sweat clings to the skin like a second wet shirt. But Nona Dirksmeyer was paying no attention to that. Her eyes were on the clock. It was close to 10. And Nona's mom, Carol Dirksmeyer, wasn't home yet. This was a rare night out for Carol.

She was out on a first date with a middle-aged widower named Duane Deipert. Duane's wife, a nurse Carol had worked with at the local hospital, had died of cancer a few months earlier. We were acquaintances. You know, I knew her at work. That's Carol talking. I came to see her a few times to have tea with her, especially a couple of months before she died. So I didn't know Duane, though, at all.

Carol was an attractive woman in her mid-40s, long brown hair that fell to her shoulders. In the eight years since her husband Paul died in 1996, Carol hadn't had that many dates. So when Nona, then 17, hadn't heard from her mom by 10 p.m., she decided to check up on her. We had gone out to eat. She called me and she said, what are you doing, Mom? So it's kind of a role reversal.

Of course, I was cleaning out his refrigerator because there was a bunch of old stuff in there. So that's kind of funny. Funny that Nona checked up on her mom? Yes. But also a little strange, perhaps, that Carol was spending her first date cleaning out Dwayne Dipert's refrigerator. Then again, maybe not so unusual if you knew Dwayne.

The second question I asked a second wife is, do you like to clean? And Carol's answer was yes. Does she like to cook? Does she like to clean? Do you like a clean place? Yeah, two important questions.

When we met back in 2009, Duane Dipert was recently retired from the U.S. Forest Service. A slight sandy-haired man who wore the kind of oversized, goggle-shaped glasses that gave his long face a kind of professorial look. When Carol married Duane in April 2004, Nona's life changed in significant ways.

First, Carol sold the home Nona had grown up in in Dover so she could move into Dwayne's house in Russellville. And second, Dwayne had some pretty strict house rules that Nona would have to abide by. She had to dash on dogs. I don't allow dogs in the house. The rule, said Dwayne, was non-negotiable. The dogs would have to go. And then there was his rule about cats. Cats.

Cats aren't allowed to stay in the house at night. And Carol, when I met her, had 10 cats. Can you believe it? And that was the other condition. Yeah, she had pets and she wanted to have them in the house. She had two cats and a dog. That was part of a lot of it, I think. To say that Dwayne Dipert ran a tight ship might be an understatement. Along with his ban on pets, Dwayne had another rule that rankles pets.

Under his roof, Nona would have a strict nine o'clock curfew. No exceptions.

You know, Dwayne's attitude about a 9 o'clock curfew when you're 19 or 20 years old just didn't go over too well. Like I was telling somebody, I'm a 90s type of a guy, but unfortunately for the kids, I'm an 1890s type of guy. You know, and the doors are locked at 10 o'clock, so they better be back at 9 o'clock. That's a strict rule? Well, yeah. Doors are locked? Yeah. Nothing's good happening after 10 o'clock at night, as far as I'm concerned. And what's your curfew for a 20-year-old? 9 o'clock. Oh, yeah.

Needless to say, Nona wanted no part of that. So, with her mother's blessing and financial help, she moved into an apartment of her own. She was just 18. And so she lived just right down the hill from us, real close, so she could come up here and have dinner with us whenever she wanted, or she'd come in between her classes and eat lunch. While Carol frequently went over to Nona's place to look in on her or bring groceries,

Duane tended to keep his distance. I think the one time I went with Carol, Carol needed to pick up something from Nona's apartment. And I went in, just kind of stood around there, kind of looking around. It was such a mess that I think I kind of figured, well, I don't need to be here anymore. It's just... That bothered you? She's pretty much a slob. For Nona, one of the big upsides to living on her own was her ability to continue seeing Kevin, away from the disapproving gaze of Carol and Duane.

Their brief breakup in the fall of 2003 when Kevin had left Nona for another girl, that had soured Carol and Dwayne on Kevin. Nona couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, she couldn't go to school, she was physically sick just because of this heartbreak of this breakup. She was a real forgiving person. Her attitude was that he deserved a second chance. And I'm not so sure that he did, but she was strong-willed.

And I was pretty sure that if I told her he absolutely cannot see him and he cannot come over here, that she'd do it behind my back. Over time, however, Kevin's relationship with the Diaperts thawed a bit. They still didn't trust him entirely, but they knew he was important to Nona. On the night her body was found, it was Kevin who called Dwayne to let him know. And in the dreadful days that followed...

Carol made a point of including Kevin in the funeral planning. Now, I didn't really feel the same about him as I had when he was younger, but it was just kind of a token thing. So a few days after Nona's murder, the Diperts and Kevin Jones and his mother got together to pick out a casket for Nona and pick out the clothes she would wear. There was to be a visitation and viewing at the funeral home on December 21st, the night before Nona was to be buried.

Carol asked that Kevin be there at 4 p.m. to be with the family during their private time and then stand with them later as they greeted well-wishers. Kevin agreed, but then... He didn't show up. Did that make you wonder what was going on? A little bit. Where was Kevin? Well, he was back at the police station, back in that white-walled interrogation room.

This time investigators weren't so much asking him what happened the day Nona Dirksmeyer died. They were telling him. I know what happened, okay? So why we're here now is because you need to come to grips with what's going on, okay? Now's the time.

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and they were there to pick up some appropriate clothes to wear to Nona's visitation and viewing that night. It was while he was there, in Fayetteville, that Kevin got a piece of information that changed the course of his day, his night, his whole life.

Seemed the brother of Kevin's college roommate thought he'd seen Nona on the day she died. According to the brother, Nona was driving her silver Mustang near the Arkansas Tech campus. It was around 1 p.m. Kevin knew that could be valuable information for investigators because it might help them determine when Nona died.

So I called the lead detective and told him what this person had told me. And he said, OK, that's good to know. Could you come in? We have a few things we'd like to ask you. And I said, OK. The detective now handling the case was Mark Frost. Remember Frost? He was the one who photographed the crime scene.

That night, he was not expecting to play a lead role, but because of some personnel issues within the department, this was now his case. They said, we just have a few questions. You can be here and then get out. And I said, okay. I said, our visitation's at four. I need to go to that. I'd like to go to that. And they said, that won't be a problem. Fayetteville is roughly two hours from Russellville. It was already after one. That left barely enough time to swing by the police station before the visitation began.

But Kevin and Brandon figured they could make it if they drove fast, so they did. Kevin's white SUV was flying, gobbling up the miles. But then he saw flashing lights in the rearview mirror. Kevin told the state trooper this was an emergency. The police in Russellville were waiting on him. He had information critical to a homicide investigation. Once the trooper confirmed with Detective Frost that Kevin was indeed going to meet with him,

The trooper let the boys go, but with a warning. It was around 4 when Kevin and his friend got to the police station. He called his mom and told her where he was and that he'd see her at the funeral home. Detective Frost met Kevin out front and quickly walked him to the interrogation room where they were joined by Detective Verdon. Verdon, you'll remember, was the bald investigator who'd first questioned Kevin on the night Nona's body was found. That's where he's going.

Are you serious? That is the voice of Detective Frost. You'll have to listen carefully as he and other policemen talk to Kevin Jones. I looked at my phone and I thought, who is this calling me?

If Kevin and the cops seemed comfortable in each other's company, it might have been because Kevin had been in close touch with Frost since the murder. He'd been happy to cooperate.

But soon enough, Detective Frost got down to business. - I told you on the phone that I need to talk to you. - Mm-hmm. - Get some more information for me. - Okay. - Because we're here, policy, I gotta read your eyes. - Yeah. - Okay? So we get through all that. - It all seemed so routine, so casual, that Kevin, wearing his red Arkansas sweatshirt, might've thought he was just shooting the breeze with a couple of buddies. He wasn't. - I don't know if they're telling me. Am I still a suspect?

"What do you mean?" That's the voice of Detective David Verdon. "Am I still... I don't know. It's just..." "Kevin, right now we're simply gathering facts. Okay? That's all we're here." Verdon's demeanor might have been a clue that this chat was about to become... well, as rough as three days stubble. Where Frost was personable, Verdon's face was as expressionless as a brick.

In any good cop, bad cop routine, it seemed likely Verdon would be the hammer. But before it came to that, Detective Frost said he wanted to hear more about the guy who said he saw Nona driving her car the day she died.

The detective wrote it all down, then pivoted to things he wanted to talk about. Namely, every move Kevin made on the day of Nona's death. Let's start from the last time that you talked to Nona.

This was well-trod ground. Kevin had gone over it many times. He began by saying he'd seen Nona late the night before, got a good morning text from her about 9 o'clock next morning. Kevin said he didn't respond right away because he was trying to sleep.

But at about 9.30, he said he had to get up and meet a plumber who'd come by to have a look at a leaky tub. After that, he said he cleaned his room. I told Mama to clean my room because there was like a path to my bed and then back out and that was it. I couldn't get in any rest of my room. At about 11, Kevin said, he drove over to the gas station his parents owned out on Highway 7, dropped off some trash in the dumpster there, and talked to his grandmother who was minding the store.

That would have been around 11:30. According to Kevin, the rest of his day was pretty well documented.

He went back to Dover and had a chicken sandwich at the Bayou Bridge Cafe, then drove the 20 or 25 miles to Russellville and did a few errands there.

He hit the ATM, caught up with some old friends he hadn't seen in a while, and emailed his college advisor about the next semester's classes. And then it was back to the family gas station. I told my grandma I'm going to put a station around here so she could leave and go to some school. And so I went down to the station, and that was approximately 310, 315, around there.

By five that afternoon, said Kevin, he was on his way home to change his clothes and take his mother to that school Christmas party. Throughout the day, said Kevin, he kept trying to reach Nona. At around 4.30, he sent her a text message, a text that would later raise a few eyebrows. It said, you alive?

For the most part, the detective simply listened and took notes. Then, Detective Frost asked him a question Kevin had never been asked before.

Kevin had been with the detectives for about an hour when he was asked to take that polygraph test. Won't take long, the detective told him. The polygrapher was right down the hall.

It was about this time that Kevin's mother, Janice Jones, started to wonder if Kevin was still at the police station or if he was headed over to the funeral home for Nona's visitation and viewing. Four o'clock became five o'clock and five o'clock became six o'clock and it was time for the visitation to begin.

And so I thought, well, I will go on over there, and he and his friend will come when they are able to. That's Janice Jones, Kevin's mother. I went in, and when I got to the front where her casket was, I could just see that someone had hurt her terribly, and that whatever they'd done was not enough to cover the damage. And it was like...

This huge wall of pain just came up and knocked me back. Janice knew then that she had to get out. She didn't want to break down and cause a scene, so she made for the nearest exit and sobbed. And I stood right by the door until my husband finally came. And he said, where's Kevin? And I said, he hasn't come from the police station yet. And he looked around and he immediately did what good dads do.

He made a decision that he'd better go right there and find out what was going on. Hiram Jones had been out of state when Nona Dirksmeyer was killed. But the minute he got word from Janice, he packed up his belongings and drove through the night to get home. Nona was part of the family. That's the voice of Hiram Jones. She'd come to our house for years. She ate at our house. She ate at my mom's house. We had a Thanksgiving dinner. Nona was there. You know, we had Sunday cookout, breakfast.

Nona was there. It was Kevin and Nona. Hiram looked like a man who'd be handy in a crisis. Seemed to exude a quiet kind of calm competence. Tall and lean with a deep tan from years as a logger in the blazing Arkansas sun. With short hair, dark comb forward, more salt than pepper at the temples. When Janice told Hiram that Kevin was still at the police station, he grabbed his oldest son, Russell, and headed that way.

But when they got there, he said, there didn't seem to be anybody to talk to. The front lobby was empty. Nothing there but a phone. Picked the phone up and called the front desk. Officer comes back out and says, yes, can I help you? And I said, I'm Hiram Jones. I said, my son is...

being questioned up here somewhere and I'd like to see him. He said, "Follow me." So we went upstairs to a room through a door and he said, "You can't come in here." I said, "Okay." And he said that they're almost through. Be patient, be here and he'll come right here when he comes out. I said, "Okay."

So I turned to Russell and I said, "Go tell your mom what he said." Well, when Kevin went to the police station that night, that evening, Brandon Curry was with him and Brandon was still there. And I said, "What, what did he say?" He said, "I don't know. It's just asking questions." Kevin was being questioned all right, questioned while wired to a polygraph machine.

The cops had told him the test was a high-tech tool used by the Department of Defense, the CIA, and the FBI. Taking it would eliminate him as a potential suspect once and for all. Did you cause the death of an older dirt liar? No. But the polygraph did not eliminate Kevin. No, quite the opposite. Kevin, I've been with him for 20 years. This is all I do. I never have seen anybody fail a test as bad as you have.

Kevin, there's no doubt in my mind that you killed her. Kevin's mouth instantly dropped when he heard the polygrapher say he'd failed the test and that he was now considered a killer. Looking around perhaps for a friendly, reassuring face, Kevin cast a quick glance at Detective Frost. But what he saw there was a face washed clean of expression. The polygrapher continued, his voice flat as a dial tone.

There is, as you can hear, unmistakable panic in Kevin's voice. For him, the transition from helpful witness to primary suspect had been breathtakingly sudden. Then Detective Frost leaned forward in his chair and brought his face close to Kevin's. Listen, I process crime scenes. That's what I do.

Okay. That's my primary function in this department is to collect evidence, process it, and interpret it. It's my job to find it. Sure. And I'm good at it. That's what I do. Okay? Now, I know what happened. Okay? So why we're here now is because you need to come to grips with what's going on. Okay? Now's the time.

Outside in the hallway, Hiram Jones, of course, had no idea that his son had just been accused of murder. What he did know was that it was 7 o'clock, and though his visitation was due to end at 8, Kevin was expected to be there. He needed to leave now. So Hiram went back downstairs to that phone in the lobby. It's time a different officer come out. And I said, sir...

I told him who it was, and I said, Kevin Jones is back there being asked some questions. And I said, I don't know what's going on. But I said, I want you to go get him and bring an officer by each side, if that's what it takes. Come to this door, open the door, and let him look me in the face and say, Dad, I'm okay. I said, can you do that? He said, yes, sir. I said, okay. So he went through the door, and I never saw him again.

Inside the interrogation room, investigators were closing on Kevin Jones like lions on a wildebeest in some African nature film. There had been no sign of forced entry into the apartment. Only three people had keys, Nona, her mother, and Kevin. The implication was clear. Denying it is no longer an option. Okay? That is not an option for you. That boat has sailed.

Now, we're in damage control. All right? Okay, so can you tell me... So you have evidence? I did the evidence. Yeah, that's what you're telling me? Yes. There were three of them now, rotating in and out of the small room. Detectives Verdon and Frost and Russellville Police Chief James Bacon, each one taking turns using different tactics. Chief Bacon played the fatherly cop,

understanding and kind. We all make mistakes. We all do things that define what happens the rest of our lives. And you're in a moment now where you've been backed in a corner because of something you've done. Now you need to be a man and you need to tell what happened. At this point, Kevin Jones had been under interrogation for nearly four hours. The chief clearly wanted a confession and he wanted it now.

There were already plans in the works to publicly announce a break in the case. The evidence and the facts will come out. And I'm going to tell you, I'm fixing to, we're fixing to tell the media and we're fixing to tell the family. And, you know, it's, you can only keep the evidence concealed for so long so that for the investigation and at some point it has to come out.

The investigators told Kevin they had proof that he was the killer. A bloody palm print found on the floor lamp near Nona's body matched Kevin's. The lamp was the murder weapon. I asked you point blank, did you touch the lamp? You said no. There's a bloody print on the pole of the lamp, and it's yours. That's impossible.

You cannot deny this anymore. I can honestly tell you I never remember touching that lamp. According to the detective, the lamp's weighted base had been slammed in and on his skull so hard that it crushed bone and left her brain exposed. They told Kevin there were prints found on the base as well, and they were certain those prints would also match Kevin. When Detective Verdon entered the room, he played the role of bad cop to the hilt.

Kevin's alibi story didn't add up, they told him. His times were off.

Lake Walters, the man Kevin claimed he'd talked to at the gas station, didn't remember seeing him that morning. That meant time unaccounted for. Time between 11 and noon on the day of the murder, when Kevin could have driven from his home outside Dover to Russellville, killed Nona, and made it back to Dover for lunch at the Bayou Bridge Cafe. I didn't do it. I didn't do it.

You weren't. You weren't. Blake, Blake, that you talked to, says he didn't talk to you in the morning. He didn't talk to you until in the afternoon. It's just my grandma. It's just my grandma. I don't know if your grandmother was asked. I do know that Blake was asked at the station. I thought I talked to him in partner at the station. Blake doesn't even remember seeing you.

According to the cops, the murder was a crime of passion, plain and simple. A lover's spat that got out of hand. Remember those text messages investigators found on Nona's phone from other men? One of them, from a man named Trey, had come in at 11 a.m., the morning of the murder.

What if, police wondered, Kevin had been there in Nona's apartment when that text came in? I know that there was an altercation between you and Nona, and I know it escalated, okay? I know that. It got out of hand, and I understand that. At times, the interrogation even resembled a prayer meeting. Heads bowed. Detectives talking about forgiveness and redemption and

God's judgment. We both still believe you're a decent person. Okay. We're not degrading you. We're not judging you. It's not our position to judge people. Okay. God's the only one who judges people. The questioning of Kevin Jones went on for hours as his questioners tried every approach they could think of to get a confession.

And when Kevin didn't fold, they shouted. I'm tired of it. I'm sick of it. Start being honest. Out in the hallway, Hiram Jones and Brandon Curry were still waiting for someone to tell them when Kevin would be able to leave. They knew Kevin was somewhere on the second floor, but where? I'm hard-haired. I've been running machinery, and I can't hear real well. Brandon got up and was pacing the floor, and he walked by the wall, and he stopped. He said,

"We gotta do something." I said, "What?" He said, "They're accusing him of killing Noma." And I said, "What?" He said, "Come here." So as I got closer to the wall, I could hear Kevin crying. I could hear yelling going through and on through the wall at the police to him and him back. - You killed her. - I'm telling you. - Point blank. - No, I'm telling you right here. - You got pissed off because you were there when she got a text message from Trey. - That's wrong. - I don't know who Trey is. - I didn't know what to do.

So I called four lawyers that I know of, and then I called the state police, and then I called the county and asked for an officer, and I explained to them what the situation was, and I said, I need to know what my rights are. I need to know if I can get my son out of there. I need to know something. As Hiram dialed one number after another, looking for help and advice...

Janice was back home in Dover, sitting on her couch, worried sick. It was around 10 o'clock, she said, when her phone rang. It was Nona's mother, Carol Dyford. She said that she had just gotten a phone call from a friend of hers from church who was a lawyer, and that he told her that he knew that they had Kevin at the police station, and that they were questioning him, and that Kevin was not aware that he could get up and leave.

And he said, you need to get him out of there.

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It was, perhaps, one of the toughest nights of the year to find a lawyer. Late on a Wednesday night four days before Christmas...

But after Janice hung up the phone with Carol, she knew what she needed now more than anything was a lawyer. My son Russell came in at that time and he said, Dad says you need to come to the police station. He does not understand what's going on, but something is going on and he wants you to come there. And so I said, well, I've just gotten a phone call from Carol and she's clued me in on what's going on and I'm going to try to call this lawyer.

And so we took the cell phones and the phone book and headed back toward Russellville. Several of those lawyers Janice tried to reach that night were either at holiday parties or out of town. But she did manage to find the niece of one of them, one of those lawyers, on the phone. The niece who also happened to be a lawyer herself.

And she told me that she was going to get a hold of her uncle, that he was on his way back to town, but that in the meantime, I needed to go to the police station. And she said, you need to go to whatever room he's in. You find the door and you start banging on that door just as loud as you can. And you tell him to get up and walk out of there.

She said he is free to go, but he doesn't really realize that. And so she said, you've got to communicate that message to him. The lawyer was right. In spite of being questioned for more than five hours and being repeatedly accused of murder, Kevin Jones was not under arrest. When Janice arrived at the police station, she found Hiram surrounded by a group of friends who heard he was there and had come to lend moral support.

When Janice told Hiram what the lawyer said about banging on doors, that was all Hiram needed to hear. So I said, all right. And so I just went up the stairs, and as I went to the door to do what I was told, there was two chairs sitting there by the door. And I know it probably don't sound like it, but I picked the chair up, and I was going to hit the door to make a racket. And I just turned around and seen that wall, and I

I thought, "Well, I'll get their attention." So I stuck a chair through the wall. How were you feeling at the time? Oh, it didn't bother me at that time, except when that chair gave through the wall. You didn't expect that? No, sir. I was expecting it to go thump-thump or something, but of course, the minute it went through the wall, I realized it was all sheetrock and you could have poked your finger through the wall. So I pulled it back out and set it down. It wasn't long before one of the investigators came out of the interrogation room. Ed and said, "Who does that?"

And I held my hand up, and I can't say what I said, but he got to the point that I'd done it. And he said, arrest him. So five of them put me in a car and took me to the detention center and arrested me. My mouth had to have been hanging wide open. And, of course, at this moment, I simply said to the lawyer who was on the line, they're taking my husband to jail.

They've arrested Hiram. I suppose you recognize that your son's in an interrogation room for far too long and your husband's carted off to jail. What was the next step in that nightmare? I did what the lawyer told me to do. I went to the top of the stairs. I braved the

Going past the big policeman. I banged on the door. I banged on it as hard as I could. And I yelled at the top of my voice for Kevin to get up and walk out that he could leave. And I continued doing that for as long as it took the big policeman to come and tell me I had to leave. He kicked you out. Basically. Helpless, forlorn, confused. Pick a word.

All described the way Janice Jones felt in that moment. But it was then, as Janice stood outside of the police station, surrounded by a handful of faithful friends on that cold December night, that her friend Margie Huckabee said, let's pray. And so we gathered our hands together and formed a circle there, right in front of the police department. And my son Russell prayed the most amazing prayers.

and powerful prayer for his brother's sake. And we all just prayed with him. And then when it was over, you know, we just stood there looking at each other, not knowing what to say, wondering what to do next. And lo and behold, in about three minutes, the doors opened and Kevin walked out. From there, Janice rushed over to the detention center to see about Hiram.

Luckily, the lawyer they'd been talking to all night was there. After a brief meeting with the sheriff, Hiram was released. He was fined $500 for malicious mischief. I just told my husband the next day, I said, well, we can just go and paint the wall and fix it. It's not that big a deal. You know, you do home repairs all the time, but you don't just do that when something like this happens. You don't just fix it.

No, and some things just aren't fixable with spackle and paint. The long night for the Jones family may have been over, but the investigators weren't done for the evening. Remember what Chief Bacon told Kevin in the interrogation room about going to the media and Nona's family with their suspicions? We're fixing to tell the media and we're fixing to tell the family. And, you know, it's...

You can only keep the evidence concealed for so long so that for the investigation and at some point it has to come out. Well, a trial by public opinion was about to begin in Russellville, Arkansas. And the first step for investigators was to place a call to Nona's parents. It was about probably 11 o'clock at the 1130 or something that the police called and says, hey, we need to come over and talk to you.

What was so important that it couldn't wait till morning? When Russellville Police Chief James Bacon and Detective Mark Frost arrived on the diaper store staff, they wanted to tell them that they knew who killed Nona. And they wanted to tell them the killer's name, Kevin Jones. Next on Murder in Apartment 12. I didn't think Kevin had anything to do with it until the police actually told me. It seemed to me that if

You ask for a lawyer, it looks like you have something to hide. I found the newspaper to be a completely unreliable source of information. At some point I just decided, I think they've got the wrong guy. They were desperately trying to convince people in the community that he was guilty. If there's any justices at all in the world, he's going to have to pay for the crime.

Murder in Apartment 12 is a production of Dateline and NBC News. Tim Beecham is the producer. Brian Drew, Deb Brown, and Bruce Berger are audio editors. Keone Reed is associate producer. Adam Gorfain is co-executive producer. Liz Cole is executive producer. And David Corvo is senior executive producer.

From NBC News Audio, Brayson Barnes is technical director. Sound mixing by Bob Mallory.

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