The not-so-Smart death of a salesman

R. Marc Kantrowitz, BridgeTower Media Newswires

The crime scene screamed burglary. Both the upstairs and downstairs of the condo were ransacked, with articles haphazardly strewn about. What differentiated this burglary from others, though, was the presence of a dead body blocking the carpeted dining room from the tiled foyer.

The victim was Greggory Smart, a successful 24-year-old insurance salesman on his way up the ladder at MetLife, who had been married six days short of a year. Shot once in the head, blood slowly oozed onto the carpet.

His wife, Pamela, discovered the body shortly after 10 p.m., when she arrived home from a school board meeting. Screaming and fleeing the apartment, she sought the help of her frazzled neighbors, who responded by hurriedly calling the Derry, New Hampshire, police.

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If it were a robbery, why would one commit it at night in a densely populated area with people undoubtedly at home? And why a gun, since most small-time robbers ordinarily didn’t carry, much less use, one? And why were the victim’s three-diamond ring and wallet left behind?

Maybe something more sinister was afloat. Perhaps drugs. After all, there had been many loud parties in the rented condo since the newlyweds moved in. Or maybe gambling, as the victim was known to frequent Atlantic City. Had he crossed the wrong person?

The police had limited leads and a 22-year-old widow, who it was hoped might shed light, or even a glimmer of it, on a potential suspect and motive.

But there was something slightly odd about “Pame,” other than how she spelled her nickname. When questioned at the scene, she seemed strangely composed, more anxious than sad. Asked to pick out the final resting clothing of her dead husband, she nonchalantly selected a few pieces, not pausing, as many do, to linger over an emotionally difficult selection.

And why did she step on the towel covering her dead husband’s blood stains on the carpet as opposed to stepping over or around it?  Some of the officers noted that but then discounted it, recognizing perhaps that they not infrequently found suspicion where others did not, or summing up her demeanor to people grieving in their own uniquely, varied ways.

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Although they had met earlier, Gregg Smart and Pame Wojas hit it off at Gregg’s 1986 New Year’s Eve party. In typical fashion for the popular, happy-go-lucky host, it was a blowout time, mobbed, with loud music, dancing, booze, drugs and sex for those who wanted it.

In some ways their mutual attraction was a bit of an anomaly. Gregg liked to party and was close to his family anchored in New Hampshire. Pame, on the other hand, whose family relocated to the Granite State while she was young, thinking it a better area in which to raise their three smart, hard-working and overachieving children, was more driven, ambitious and focused.

Often holding down several jobs despite a heavy college course load, she attended Florida State University, majoring in communications.

Both, though, were attractive and out-going, able to motivate and get people to do their bidding. Sharing a love for heavy metal music, especially Van Halen, they wanted to stand out and be different, leaders rather than followers. Perhaps in one small way, their chosen method of spelling their names out of the ordinary reflected that.

When Pame returned to Florida for school, the two kept in touch. With the passage of time, their relationship blossomed. More than smitten, Gregg eventually moved to Florida to be with her. They were soon living together and engaged.

Pame graduated in three years, and to mark the occasion, Gregg gave her a Shih-Tzu, aptly named Haylen.

Pame found herself at a crossroads. One the one hand, she wanted to follow her dream of being a news reporter, which required travel to the far and often quieter parts of the country for the young seeking employment in the highly competitive field. Conversely, she also desired to marry someone who loved everything New Hampshire had to offer. She followed her heart.

Despite their young ages, they wed on May 7, 1989, two short years after they met.

Not surprisingly, Pame quickly found a relatively well-paying job as director of the new media center for the local schools, where she wrote press releases, reported on school projects, and taught how to use media equipment. Her office was across the street from Winnacunnet High School.

Gregg, meanwhile, slowly started to mature, working at his father’s place of employment, MetLife. The gregarious young man quickly found success, co-named the Rookie Salesman of the Year. He did not, however, totally walk away from his partying ways.

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At the wake, Pame and her father-in-law had a dispute as to whether the coffin should be open or closed. Pame left the room when it was opened and returned when it was closed. She seemed surprised and happy to see three students with whom she had grown close — Billy Flynn, Vance JR Lattime Jr. and Cecelia Pierce — at the wake.

When Flynn kneeled in front of Gregg’s casket, one wonders what he thought. After all, he was the one who murdered him.

It began innocently enough. At the start of the school year, Pamela “Pame” Smart worked on some programs with the students. She made an immediate impression.

Many young males were smitten with the attractive instructor, especially Billy Flynn who quickly found ways to be with her, skipping lunch and study hall to visit in her office and volunteering to work on a lengthy school media project, which often required Saturday and after-school get-togethers. Among the topics, a mutual love of heavy metal music.

At the same time, another 15-year-old, Cecelia Pierce, also quickly grew enamored of the charismatic Pame, who to Cecelia possessed it all: intelligent, attractive, worldly, popular, confident and well-to-do. More importantly, when Cecelia — the slightly overweight teen from the wrong side of the economic tracks — spoke, Pame sympathetically listened. When Pame suggested an internship, Cecelia quickly accepted.

As Pame moved closer to her two favored students, she slowly drifted from her husband. Perhaps they married too young, or worked non-complementary hours. Or maybe it was their preference to party, and even vacation, apart. Or maybe it was Gregg’s drinking, which culminated in his spending the night with another woman shortly before Christmas. Or perhaps it was a drunken fight shortly thereafter in which Gregg either purposely or unintentionally struck Pame.

Greater trouble loomed as 1989 drew to a close.

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Rather than keep two obviously bewitched young students at bay, Pame, like the drag of gravity, pulled the two into her orbit. Acting more their teen years than her own age, Pame became more than a close friend. One time, she drove with Billy to pick up some pictures of herself scantily clad in a sexy two-piece outfit. Not liking what she saw, she offered the photos to Flynn, who eagerly accepted them.

With Cecelia, she became a big sister and confidant. In a moment of blindness, Pame blurted out, “I think I’m in love with Bill.”

An infatuation quickly turned physical.

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The more people to whom a secret is revealed, the more likely it won’t remain so. Especially when dealing with teenagers. Aside from the fact that Flynn shared his good fortune with others, Pame, too, was indiscreet, allowing herself to be seen with her lover outside of school.

When she broached the subject of killing Gregg, Flynn and Pierce asked why divorce wasn’t a better option. Pame explained that a divorce would be economically devastating and that Gregg would hound and harass her. No, murder was the only option, she explained, not so subtly hinting that if Flynn truly loved her, he would do as she asked.

Reluctantly, Flynn agreed and recruited some friends to go along: Patrick Pete Randall, Vance JR Lattime and Raymond Fowler. Although skeptical at first, they agreed to carry out the deed, perhaps out of loyalty to their friend — and the promise that they could keep what they stole, as well as Pame sharing some of the insurance money she would receive.

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Flynn, armed with a gun taken from Lattime’s father, and Randall entered the apartment through a door Pame left unlocked. Randall, preferring to stab Gregg, carried a knife. The other two boys stayed in the car. After scouring the apartment, they waited for Gregg, making sure, as per Pame’s instructions, to put Hayley in the basement, away from danger. She also told them not to get blood on the couch.

Upon entering his home, Gregg was quickly accosted. As he tried to run, Randall grabbed him by his hair and slammed his head against the wall. Ordered to his knees, Gregg begged for his life. Flynn fired one shot into his head.

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Rather than recede into the background, Pame didn’t act the part of a sad widow, choosing instead to socialize, going to bars, having a good time, buying a new car, and granting so many interviews with the media that the police stopped sharing information with her, feeling she was jeopardizing the investigation. Her new apartment lacked a single picture of her late husband.

Meanwhile, the rumors were flying.

Meanwhile, the police were also hearing the rumors. And then there was an anonymous phone call about a young girl named Cecelia Pierce, who knew it all.

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Arrested, the boys stood silent, secure in the knowledge that, as juveniles, their punishment would not be great. Meanwhile, Pame met and commiserated with her good friend Cecelia, who, after being confronted by the police, agreed to wear a wire.

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Upon learning that they would be treated as adults on the murder charge, the bravado of the boys quickly melted.

When the police detective approached Pame, he told her, “Well, Pame, I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news is that we’ve solved the murder of your husband. The bad news is that you’re under arrest.”

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The most sensational trial in the history of New Hampshire led to an inevitable conclusion. In the end, Pame’s incriminatory statements to Cecelia Pierce did her in. Testifying on her own behalf, Pame explained that since the police were not providing her with any information, she suspected Cecelia was wearing a wire and knew more. Hoping to gain that knowledge, she misled Cecelia. Also, she asked, why would she have teenagers commit murder when divorce was an option?

The jury did not believe her.

The four teens all received hefty sentences. Flynn and Randall served 25 years; Lattime, 15; and Fowler, 12.

At one point, Pame said, “I want whoever murdered Gregg to go to jail for the rest of their life.” She got her wish. She remains in jail to this day, insisting, as she did at trial, that she is innocent and praying that Billy Flynn, her obsessed lover, comes to his senses and tells the truth.

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The above column was based on “Teach Me to Kill” by Stephen Sawicki and various internet sources. R. Marc Kantrowitz, a retired Appeals Court judge, can be contacted at Rmarckantrowitz@comcast.net.