A chief remembers a murderer

He saw scene of Colbert's killings

By Ray Duckler - ConcordMonitor.com

March 25, 2012

Even Dave Goldstein, the hardboiled cop who'd seen it all, had trouble seeing clearly 20 years ago.

Hadn't James Colbert been a bigger, more menacing figure, the Franklin police chief wondered when he interviewed the convicted killer at the state prison in 2010? Instead, here was Colbert as he really was, stocky, yes, but maybe 5-foot-6.

"For myself, it had to be a vision of this big, burly, almost grotesque Cro-Magnon type of individual," said Goldstein, the lead investigator for the state police Major Crimes Unit at the time that Colbert murdered his estranged wife and their three young children.

"These were not my first murder victims I had seen in my career, but for some reason, he stayed with me."

That's because of the children. After choking his wife, Mary Jayne Jenovese, Colbert suffocated Emily, 2½, Elise, 1½, and Patricia, 10 weeks, all as they slept in the family's Merrimack Street apartment.

Colbert then drove to Boston, where he threatened to jump off the Tobin Bridge, hundreds of feet above the Mystic River. A Massachusetts state trooper talked him off the railing and drove Colbert to the hospital for evaluation. On the way to Mass General, Colbert confessed to the killings, and the following summer a jury found him guilty of the four murders, rejecting his insanity plea.

Eleven days ago, Goldstein received an email telling him the man whose crime had haunted him for 20 years was dead. Goldstein never quite got the guy out of his head. Not while serving as a hostage negotiator and crime scene investigator for the state police, not while he was chief of police in Winthrop, Mass., and not now, as chief in Franklin.

Goldstein plans to write a book about the case. He interviewed Colbert in 2010 and again in January of last year, before Colbert's cancer had been diagnosed. Goldstein says the book will take a few years to finish.

"It's not (being written) to come up with the definitive, 'This is why he did what he did,' " Goldstein said. "Hopefully some of the readers would be people in the field, telling them that these are the issues that you have to look at."

Goldstein's video of his second interview with Colbert shows a calm killer, a man saying he regrets what happened and hopes to one day counsel men on how to avoid domestic violence.

"Not an unpleasant man," Goldstein said.

This is not to say that Goldstein bought Colbert's argument, that he had no choice when he committed the crime. Or that he'd lost his mind from severe psychosis, or that the years of sexual abuse at the hands of his uncle prevented him from processing information and dealing with stress properly.

Goldstein called the trial "a case of dueling psychiatrists." He also called Colbert a killer who got what he deserved.

"I believe he knew what he was doing," Goldstein said. "He knew the difference between right and wrong. Absolutely."

His resume tells you Goldstein knows what he's talking about. He's received three college degrees, including his Ph.D in psychology.

He moved through the ranks in law enforcement, as a patrol officer in Derry, then a state trooper for 21 years, specializing in hostage negotiation and major crime scene investigation.

He's since been chief in Winthrop, and now he's chief in Franklin, a seemingly odd final career destination after wearing a three-piece suit for so long.

"I love police work," Goldstein said. "And this position opened up, and I jumped on it."

At 60, he's come full circle, back in a blue uniform as wrinkle-free as glass. His silver hair is closely cropped, and he's trim and fit, with a small waistline and a big appetite for adventure, which he makes clear with skydiving photos near the door of his downtown office.

He's a cop who's seen it all, brutality and sorrow and hatred. But the Colbert murders were like nothing else he'd experienced.

"I always kept this case separate and distinct from all others," Goldstein said. "When was the last time you heard about a family being wiped out like that?"

Goldstein shows the crime scene photos he's saved for 21 years. They show a mother and her three daughters, each tucked into bed, each posed to look like she was sleeping.

Mary Jayne had taken out a restraining order on her husband, accused him of violent behavior and filed divorce papers. Colbert left a note, visible on the living room table, saying he couldn't handle the thought of his wife with another man. He couldn't handle being away from his kids. He couldn't handle recent unemployment after being a trucker his whole life. He couldn't handle his children with another father figure.

Strangely, though, with so much violence so close to the surface, the apartment photos are peaceful, with painted Halloween pumpkins sitting on the front steps and the toys neatly placed on shelves in the living room.

"If you walk through this apartment, it was different than most crime scenes," Goldstein said. "It was a very clean apartment, and quite frankly, the majority of crime scenes I've seen in my 33-year career have been hovels. You could tell mom was trying to do the best she could."

Goldstein took charge that day, overseeing everything, from the collection and tagging of evidence, to the crime scene photos, to handling the written overview himself.

What followed were media images of a man with wavy hair and sad eyes, shackled and shuttled in and out of court as the city squinted, shook its head and wondered why.

Colbert's attorneys cited an uncle's sexual abuse when Colbert was a kid in Somerville, Mass., as the source of his troubles. And that, the defense team claimed, led to an act beyond Colbert's control.

"He was in a great deal of pain over a long term from significant and traumatic sexual abuse he suffered," said University of New Hampshire School of Law professor Buzz Scherr, who represented Colbert. "He was just a profoundly fragile human being, mentally and emotionally."

Goldstein understands the insanity defense. He saw it used effectively in Bedford, where a man killed his mother in the kitchen and left her there for a day or two. That man, Goldstein said, stopped taking his medication for schizophrenia.

"This guy never even made it to any court," Goldstein said. "There's a guy that doesn't know what he's doing."

And Colbert?

"Do I believe a lot of what he said?" Goldstein said. "Absolutely not. But he has to say he doesn't remember. That's his story. If you tell a lie often enough, it becomes the truth, and that's what he's trying to do."

He tried to do it in the videotaped interview Goldstein conducted 14 months ago. Colbert insisted his insanity defense was legitimate.

"How could anyone in their right mind do that and not be psychotic?" Colbert said, his hands clasped on a sheet of questions Goldstein had sent to him in advance. "If I was in touch with reality, I would have known I was doing something wrong."

Twenty years ago, a jury didn't buy it. Neither did Goldstein. Not then, not now.

But good luck finding any emotion directed toward Colbert. Goldstein keeps his feelings locked up, even as he begins to piece together his book. His wife sees the pain and anger connected to his job, but no one else.

All he'll reveal is that this man who killed his family once looked much larger.

"I would look at the defense table and I had this vision he was this rough, strong human being," Goldstein said. "When I met him face to face, he was very, very small."