The most recent, on April 27, closed with “THIS IS MY LAST WARNING! ” Barlow offered to mount a surveillance video camera in his 3-year-old son’s window, aimed straight at the Colemans’ mailbox. He’s on the Colemans’ front porch when Officer Jason Donjon pulls up.
The camera’s on now, clicking and whirring in the background as Chris says, in essence, “My wife’s not answering the phone. “Nobody’s answering,” Barlow calls, and Donjon heads to the back.
Chris met Lintz through his wife: Tara and Sheri were best friends at Largo High School in Florida.
They even looked alike—pretty, with dark hair and lithe bodies—and Chris tells detectives Tara’s personality was “the same as Sheri’s.
Then, he says, he and Sheri watched TV——and “she fell asleep in my arms on the couch.” Barlow asks Chris about the scratches and red marks on his arm.
“I think it was when I was—the gurney—in the ambulance—I was hitting the pillow.” He speaks with pride of his job as Joyce Meyer’s bodyguard: “She’s on TV in 37 languages in three-quarters of the world.” He also tells them about the security surveillance company he’s started, Executive Innovations—but he doesn’t mention his own security camera, which might have recorded an intruder, until the detectives prompt him.
“I will kill them all while they sleep,” the sender warned.
Now letters have been showing up in the Colemans’ mailbox. Bridge; I’ll be there in about five minutes.” Barlow throws on clothes, calls his dispatcher at the Columbia Police Department, and grabs his weapon, cuffs, and radio. You run home and tell your mom and dad to pack your clothes and book bags for school tomorrow.” Garett tears home—they live four houses away on the cul-de-sac.A few days ago, though, another officer showed Barlow the threats. They’d started with emails on November 14 that accused evangelist Joyce Meyer of “preaching bullshit” and threatened, not Meyer or her family, but the family of her bodyguard, Chris Coleman.A little boy’s in bed, half covered, looking like he’s sleeping—except that his skin is grayish and mottled, his limbs rigid. Patton finds Gavin, and when Barlow moves to that doorway and sees the second child dead, he has to focus hard to hold it together. “They didn’t make it.” Asked to stay outside, Coleman doesn’t protest, just sits on the ground and sobs. Chief Joe Edwards of the Columbia Police Department squats next to Chris while the police chaplain, the Rev.“This might be our guy—limit what we tell him,” Patton warns as they go back downstairs. Jonathan Peters, tells him his family’s been killed. Edwards suggests that Peters sit with Chris in the back of an ambulance; media are already swarming. Ron Coleman, pastor of Grace Church Ministries in Chester, Ill., pulls up onto somebody’s lawn, leaves his keys in the ignition, and ducks under the crime-scene tape, his face white. Inside the ambulance, Peters will later testify, Chris looks down at red marks on his right arm and asks, “How did that get there?Guns drawn, they slowly mount the steps, Donjon going first because he’s in uniform.