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At seven minutes after two, the trio walked to the Ford prisoner's
van and Diane was placed in the rear compartment. The
belly-chains allowed her cuffed hands only slight movement. Her
rage seemed to have diminished. She sat quietly on a bench which
ran along the side of the van and stared out the rear window as
they pulled out of Eugene, passed Springfield, and then gathered
speed along 1-5 going north.
Friday, August 31, was a gray day with spates of hard rain.
Diane, who loved sunshine, would see only clouds and rain during
the hour's drive to prison--her first prolonged time outside since
her arrest six months before.
And, most probably, her last.
Welch studied her, and she turned to catch his eyes. She
forced a resigned smile.
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"Are you scared, Diane?" he asked.
SMALL SACRIFICES 471
"What do you think?"
When he glanced back later, he saw that Diane had wriggled
until she was on her back, her legs spread obscenely wide, her
bare midriff exposed. She stared into his eyes, and it dawned on
him that she was attempting to seduce him. For God's sake, why?
Maybe because he was the last male she would see before prison?
He looked away, toward the road ahead.
They pulled through the main prison gates at one minute to
three. Diane sat up and looked around. "Well, Diane, this is it,"
Welch said. "Here's your new home."
She gave him a sarcastic smile. "Thank you."
The guard in the tower requested credentials. Chris Rosage responded,
"We're from Lane County. We have one female
prisoner."
They drove through, past the men's sector.
Diane said suddenly, "Ya know, you're OK, Doug."
"How can you say that after calling me names for fifteen
months?"
"I can't believe anyone can be as bad as you've acted.
What's your sign?"
"Cancer--but I don't think we're compatible."
Weapons secured, they drove on slowly to the Women's
Center, located next to the Oregon State Penitentiary.
They headed down the long narrow sidewalk that leads to the
intake area. Welch, following Diane and Chris up the walk, heard
a voice yelling at him, someone banging on a widow. He turned to
see a plump black woman in her thirties.
"Is that 'Lizbet Diane Downs?"
He nodded. In the intake area, they were greeted by two
pleasant-looking women who logged Diane's personal property,
and began to fill out forms.
Welch felt Diane's eyes on him again. He returned her gaze.
"You've lost some hair during all of this, Doug--or maybe
I've just never looked at you before."
"I probably have."
"Well, smile, Doug--don't look so sad."
"Oh, I'm not," he taunted her, aware that she was drawing
him into one of her sarcastic games. "I'm elated--I'm thrilled."
"Hmm. I know you are."
Diane's belly-chains were removed, and Rosage and Welch
472 ANN RULE
turned to leave. When Welch reached the threshold, he turned
and looked back at Diane
She was leaning with her back against the wall, staring at the
floor. Her smile was gone.
The deputies walked back down the sidewalk toward the
gate, and the same woman banged on the window and called to
them again.
"Hey! Heyùwas that really 'Lizbet Diane Downs?"
Again, Welch nodded.
"Y'am mo beat her up. Y'am mo kick her ass ..."
Behind Chris Rosage and Doug Welch, the door to intake slammed
shut. Diane was alone now with the other women prisoners. For a
moment there, as she'd stood leaning against the wall, she had
looked again like the little girl who waited desperately outside the
schoolroom for recess to be over.
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CHAPTER 45
Fred Hugi got a phone call in the first part of November, 1984; it
was like a nightmare that had come back full blown. Diane had
been in the penitentiary for three months when Chandler Police
Sergeant Ed Sweitzer called the Lane County DA's office with
news that would prove appalling.
The missing gun had been found. A .22 Ruger pistol, a semiautomatic
bearing the serial number listed for the gun thought to
have been in Diane's possession--#14-76187--had been recovered
in a narcotics raid by Sergeant John Hansen of the Perris
California Police Department. When Hansen punched the serial
numbers into the National Crime Information Center computer
network, he came up with a hit citing a warrant for the gun out of
Chandler.
Paul Alton flew to Chandler once again, and subsequently to
Perris, California. The narcotics dealer had obtained the weapon
from a Perris acquaintance. That man told Alton that he had
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