Deadly Divorces (19 page)

Of course, as with any courtroom judge, there was any number of disgruntled former plaintiffs who might have wished the judge ill – people unhappy at having to pay too
much to their exes or share custody of their children. But not many had actively proclaimed their animosity. The judge’s flustered staff presented police with a shortlist of people who had a particular axe to grind. Among the names was Darren Mack.

By 1.30pm detectives were back in touch with Dan Osborne. This time they were taking his concerns about Charla Mack’s welfare extremely seriously. When they went back to Wilbur May Parkway they had the code to open the garage door. Hardened by years of watching detective movies, most of us imagine police attending the scene of a potential crime to be adrenaline-pumped automatons, carrying out the well-learned drills with blank-minded efficiency. In reality, though, poised before a closed door, there’s a moment when thoughts of what you might find inside flash through your mind like projected images on an empty wall.

The first thing police officers noticed when the garage door finally slid smoothly open was Charla Mack’s Lexus SUV parked inside. Next, her body, wearing blue trousers and a red top, lying face down in a pool of blood.

A search of Darren’s house yielded various items of clothing, all stained with red, plus more than 50 boxes of ammunition, 4 empty rifle cases and documents detailing Judge Chuck Weller’s campaign contributions as well as literature from fathers’ rights groups. They also found, in the master bedroom, the sheath from a knife.

The most bizarre discovery was what looked to be a ‘to do’ list which appeared to be a list of instructions including:

Dan take Erika to Joan

Garage door open

End problem

Put lex in garage/lock home

parking garage if yes

Could Darren really have written himself out a list of step-by-step instructions for carrying out a double murder?

The one person no one could find was Darren Mack himself.

A few minutes after the shooting of Judge Weller, Darren’s cousin, Jeffrey Donner, had received a call on his mobile. Listening to Darren ranting about what he believed to be the corruption of the family court system, Jeffrey wasn’t unduly worried. After all, Darren had been spouting this stuff for the last year or so. He’d heard it all before. But then his cousin had said something that made him sit up and take notice. ‘If anything should happen to me, please make sure the true story about the injustices that are going on in that courtroom get out to the media and the public.’

It was a strange thing to say but the conversation was over before Jeffrey really got a chance to ask his cousin what he meant. And that was the last anyone heard from him for the next 10 days. As far as the authorities and his family were aware, outspoken, fast-living Darren Roy
Mack had quite simply disappeared. For over a week authorities in the US mounted a huge manhunt for the millionaire pawnshop owner. In stark contrast to his ‘Father of the Year’ billboard, Darren’s face was now plastered over newspaper front pages and the FBI’s most wanted list. All over America, people claimed sightings of him but gradually the search was narrowed down to Mexico, the place Darren had used as a pleasure playground on several of his frequent romps away.

Back in Reno, evidence was accumulating that only increased the authorities’ determination to bring Darren Mack in for questioning. Surveillance cameras in the parking lot near the courthouse showed the shots that hit Judge Weller had most likely come from a silver vehicle similar to the one Mack had rented the week before. An examination of Charla’s body revealed 7 stab wounds, the most severe being to the neck and chest. Her mobile phone and a few other things were found scattered along interstate I-80 Westbound from Reno.

Puerto Vallarta, on the West Coast of Mexico, is a prosperous seaside resort known for its relaxed atmosphere and stunning landscapes. It’s where the wealthy upper classes from nearby Guadalajara have their beach houses. While not as relentlessly built up as somewhere like Cancun, it’s a far cry from the fishing village it once was which John Huston chose for the setting of his controversial 1963 film
The Night of the Iguana
, starring
Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. It was a great choice for someone looking to blend in with a crowd, but avoid the most obvious tourist destinations.

Darren Mack liked Mexico and he liked Puerto Vallarta. He felt at home there, whether on the sandy beaches of Banderas Bay, or at one of its many upmarket bars and restaurants. If you were embarking on what could be your last days of freedom, you might do worse than enjoy them here, sipping cocktails at a seafront bar, or watching the yachts bobbing up and down on the crystal blue waters of the Pacific. But Darren realised the net was tightening. The authorities had traced phone calls he’d made back to bus stations in Western Mexico. Roadblocks had been set up and vehicles searched. He knew the authorities were on his tail and that if he waited to be arrested by Mexican police, he might end up spending time in one of the infamously inhospitable Mexican jails. His options were dwindling fast. On Thursday, 22 June 2006, he announced through his Reno attorneys that he was ready to give himself up.

The following day he was flown to Dallas, where he was arrested for the murder of his wife Charla. That night he arrived back in Nevada, touching down at Reno-Tahoe International airport just after 11.30pm.

The crowds who’d waited up to see him, expecting the cocky figure from the press reports with the dazzling white smile and neatly gelled hair, were disappointed. Darren’s distinctively long, jutting chin was covered by a dark patchy
beard. He appeared to have put on weight as if he’d been bulking up too fast in the gym or taking too many steroids. In place of the leather jacket was a crumpled navy T-shirt with contrasting orange sleeves. The characteristic arrogant swagger had been replaced by a more diffident step as he was ushered through the airport, shackles round his wrists and a startled look in his red-rimmed eyes. ‘Is that really him?’ people whispered anxiously.

Since then, Darren Mack has sat in a Reno jail awaiting trial, charged with murdering his wife and attempting to murder Judge Chuck Weller. The man who once prided himself on his smart appearance has swapped designer clothes for a prison-issued jumpsuit. Though prosecutors are not pushing for the death penalty, the ‘player’ who once lived for pleasure faces the prospect of a life behind bars.

The case has inflamed public opinion in Reno, where a vocal minority believe him to be a devoted father pushed beyond the limits of his endurance by a greedy ex-wife and a deeply unjust divorce system. Others view him as a control freak who couldn’t cope when things didn’t go his way.

Darren Mack himself has pleaded not guilty to all charges. From his jail cell, he continues to insist on being the choreographer of his own life, fighting any financial claims made by lawyers for Charla’s estate. His MySpace page indicates that he or someone close to him last accessed it on 23 June 2006, the day he was arrested. Although various friends of his have kept it updated, the
page with its now ironic ‘TOOMUCHFUN’ moniker remains an eerie shrine to long-gone hedonism. Like his ‘real life’, it appears frozen in time the day the handcuffs went on.

As Reno life carries on around him, as the croupiers deal cards in the casinos and customers queue at the cash desk in the pawnshop his mother still runs, the question lingers unanswered in the sultry city air:

Did Darren Mack destroy his family and his future? Or did divorce and the system that surrounds it destroy Darren Mack?