Too Late to Say Goodbye: A True Story of Murder and Betrayal Read Free Page A

dental clinic was struggling, and a renewal of old issues had left their marriage on the precarious edge of oblivion. But with Christmas only three weeks away, Jenn was looking forward to finishing the decorations on a tall tree that sat in the Corbins’ formal dining room. Her little boys shouldn’t have to miss out on Santa Claus because of an adult situation that wasn’t their fault. She was halfway through with the tree, and she had stacked boxes nearby that held her treasured sentimental ornaments, new ones she had purchased during the year, and, most precious, Dalton’s and Dillon’s handmade art work they were so proud of. Jenn already had wrapped and hidden lots of presents for the boys.
     
    I T WAS 7:30 on this Saturday morning, December 4, 2004, when Steve and Kelly Comeau, who lived across the street from the Corbins’ house, were startled to hear someone knocking at their front door. They were still in bed; Steve had been out late helping a friend hang pictures, and on the way home he had stopped to help a stranded driver change a flat tire. When he answered the door, he looked down to see Dalton Corbin, age seven. Dalton’s face was red and his cheeks were streaked with tears. He wore pajamas and appeared to be very upset.
    “My mom isn’t breathing,” Dalton said. “My daddy shot my Mommy—I need you to call 911.”
    Skeptical, Steve Comeau nevertheless called 911, while Kelly followed Dalton across the street to check on Jenn Corbin. She didn’t even think about danger to herself, because she doubted that Dalton could really have seen what he said he had. Jenn was most likely just sleeping heavily.
    The Corbins’ overhead garage door was open. Kelly hurried beneath it, found that the door to the kitchen was unlocked, and headed down the hall toward the master bedroom, calling out Jenn’s name. There was no answer.
    There was light in the bedroom, although Kelly couldn’t remember later if it was daylight or from a lamp. She could see Jenn lying diagonally across the bed. It was an odd position, and Kelly felt a little shiver of alarm. She told herself that Jenn was only sleeping, and she reached out to touch Jenn’s right shoulder. Kelly moved her fingers slightly, pressing harder, but there was no reassuring thrum of blood coursing there. And Jenn’s flesh was cold.
    Jenn wasn’t breathing. Kelly saw a trickle of blood coming from her nose, and a few bright red stains on the bedclothes beneath Jenn’s head. She caught a glimpse of what looked like a pistol butt poking out from a coverlet next to her still body. Feeling as if she were in the midst of a nightmare, Kelly backed away from the bed, careful not to touch anything.
    “She was way gone,” Kelly would later recall to DA’s Investigator Kevin Vincent. “Her body was frozen—ice cold. She was way, way gone. I didn’t check for a pulse. I knew she was gone a long time before.”
    Kelly Comeau felt a ringing in her ears, and her whole body prickled with the shock that washed over her as she tried to deny to herself what she saw. Jenn Corbin was only thirty-three years old. She was healthy and vibrant and there was no reason at all for her to have a handgun in her bed. A thought swept through Kelly’s mind: not at Christmastime!
    It seemed to her that she had been in Jenn’s bedroom—the room Jenn had decorated so beautifully—for a very long time, but it had actually been only moments. Kelly wanted to pull Jenn’s green nightgown up over the breast that was partially exposed, but she knew she shouldn’t touch anything.
    There was nothing else she could do for Jenn. Her two little boys were Jennifer Corbin’s biggest concern—always—and she would never have wanted them to see her this way. But Dalton and Dillon had indeed seen their mother dead, and Kelly’s heart constricted at the thought. Would they ever forget it? No child should ever have to live with such memories.
     
    K ELLY TRIED TO USE the cordless phone Dalton