a boy in her class. The press loved her. She was attractive and as the trial went on, they painted her as one cool customer without remorse. Her nickname was the Seductress. Devon Eton was a good-looking kid and made a sympathetic victim. The entire case was disturbing but impossible not to watch unfold.”
Woodhouse clicked a few keys. “I made some notes. Devon Shawn Eton turned seventeen years old in January and was living with his parents, Mitchell and Hilary Eton, and thirteen-year-old sister, Sophie, at 5342 Beverley Street. I had a look on Google Earth. It’s at the north end and one of the bigger homes on the street. Fenced in, white pillars, black shutters, big front porch, and a two-car garage.”
“So further north and west from where his body was found but within walking distance.”
“Yup.” Woodhouse scrolled further down the page. “Mitchell Eton owns a computer company employing thirty staff that designs accounting software for small- to medium-size businesses. Hilary Eton lives off his avails.”
“I believe she’s called a stay-at-home mom,” Gundersund said.
Woodhouse looked up. “Give it whatever tarted- up name you want. She was freeloading. Never worked a day after they got married.”
“Anything else?” Rouleau asked. He wasn’t about to chase Woodhouse down this particular rat hole.
“Devon played defence on the high school football team and this was his graduation year. I thought about heading over to the school with Bennett to interview teachers and classmates tomorrow.”
Rouleau nodded. “Good plan but I’d like Stonechild and Gundersund to handle those interviews. You and Bennett can go door to door to speak with the neighbours. Can you refresh us on the Jane Thompson case, Gundersund?”
Gundersund’s eyes met his with silent approval. He’d long been encouraging Rouleau to do something about Woodhouse’s negative influence on the team. If only it was that easy, Rouleau thought. Woodhouse knew what lines not to cross and had the police union behind him. Rouleau had had a union rep in once for a hypothetical chat and come away dismayed with the little leeway he had to act. Woodhouse hadn’t done anything to warrant reprimand. At the moment, Woodhouse was glaring daggers at him but wisely keeping his thoughts to himself. He knew exactly how much he could get away with.
Gundersund pulled his notebook from his breast pocket. “Jane Thompson was a grade seven and eight English and history teacher at Winston Churchill Public School. Devon Eton and another boy named Charlie Hanson were in one of her grade seven classes. Devon had skipped a grade and was mature for his age, but then, he was a January baby. From all accounts, before it came out that Jane was having an affair with him, she was popular and considered one of the school’s all-star teachers, not uncommon for this kind of thing, apparently. I found a few articles on past cases where a female teacher was convicted of having sex with one of her students. Anyhow, Devon’s mother, Hilary Eton, discovered a pair of women’s lace underwear when cleaning out his gym bag. Remember he was only twelve years old at the time and hadn’t even had a girlfriend yet as far as his parents knew. After the school psychologist was brought in, Devon spilled that he’d been having sex with Mrs. Thompson. She’d been tutoring him after school to help him maintain his high English grade and that was when a physical relationship developed. She had opportunity and never denied that. Forensics found various text messages between the two, setting up meetings that she swore later were all innocent. Some naked photos of Devon were found on her home computer along with some other child porn, supporting what he told his mother. Charlie Hanson also had seen them together in a couple of compromising positions a few months earlier and said that Devon had confided in him that Mrs. Thompson had started coming on to him and they’d been having sex.”
“So did she ever admit to it?”
“Not before or during the trial. Her defence was that she’d been set up. However, the clincher was her DNA all over the lace undies in Devon’s gym bag. So after initially saying the boys were lying, about a year into her sentence, she confessed.”
“So she was convicted.”
“Yeah. The circumstantial evidence combined with the two boys’ testimony convinced a jury. Plus, one of her co-workers said he’d seen them alone together one Saturday afternoon in her classroom, so that was damning combined with everything else. The judge sentenced her to three years but she got out last month after serving two-thirds of her sentence.” Gundersund checked his notes. “Her husband Adam Thompson divorced her the beginning of the second year of her sentence and got sole custody of their two kids.”
Rouleau was surprised. “Three years. Isn’t that unusually harsh for this kind of crime?”
Gundersund nodded. “Usually women get off lighter than men. Two years is about the longest sentence for a woman teacher in Canada. The States gives slightly longer sentences, but not by much. The judge said in this case that because Jane Thompson wouldn’t admit to what she’d done, he was upping her time. No remorse and possible she’d reoffend without treatment.”
“How did she refute the prosecution’s evidence?” Kala was leaning forward, elbows on her knees. She’d been listening intently to everything Gundersund said. He looked across the room at her.
“She said that she was meeting with Devon to tutor him in English because he’d missed out on the grammar rules when he skipped grade six and his writing was suffering. Nothing major and the prosecution argued that the tutoring was a smokescreen for their affair. According to Mrs. Thompson, Devon told her that he was worried his father would make him quit football if his average dropped at all. She said they met at different times when they could both fit it in, but that was all. No touching. No sex.”
“What about the photos on her computer?”
“She said she had no idea how they got there.”
Rouleau asked, “Anything else?”
“She’d confided in her sister that she was thinking of leaving her husband before this blew up. The sister” — he looked at his notes — “named Sandra Salvo said that Jane suspected he’d been unfaithful but had no proof. Under cross-examination, Adam Thompson admitted they’d had a bit of trouble but said it was because he’d been working long hours and had nothing to do with having an affair. He lost his temper on the stand and said that Jane was grasping at reasons for her unforgiveable behaviour.”
“That was a nail in her coffin,” Bennett said. “Pretty damning when you add it all up.”
Gundersund nodded. “That’s how the jury saw it, too.”
Rouleau looked between the dividers. Jim Nichols was standing by the entrance to the office. “We’re over here,” Rouleau called, and Nichols crossed the floor to join them. He looked around the space, then back at Rouleau.
“Quite the clubhouse you’ve got here, Mouseketeers. They’ve brought in Jane Thompson and she’s waiting in the meeting room downstairs.”
Rouleau stood. “Stonechild can you take the interview with me? I’d like a female present. Gundersund, you can stand inside the door. We go carefully on this one.”
“What are you worried about?” Gundersund asked.
Rouleau tried to put his reservations about the path this case was taking into words. “I don’t want to rush to any conclusions. Jane Thompson was guilty of sexual misconduct but that’s not in the same ballpark as murder. We have to make absolutely certain of the facts before we arrest
