Murder on Birchleaf Drive Read online

  MURDER ON BIRCHLEAF DRIVE

  The True Story

  of the

  Michelle Young

  Murder Case

  “A compelling and accurate description of a fascinating murder case, from the initial investigation through the twists and turns of two trials, and all the strategic decisions in between. One of the best true crime books I have read. Very entertaining.”

  —David S. Rudolf, defense attorney for Michael Peterson, featured in the Netflix series The Staircase

  “Psychological thriller meets true crime story at its best! MURDER ON BIRCHLEAF DRIVE is a riveting account of what, at first blush, appears to be a boy-meets-girl romance but ends in bloody horror. Epstein brilliantly details the unraveling of the couple’s relationship and eloquently captures the legal details, making the most complicated aspects of the murder case completely understandable. Prepare yourself for an intense, heart-pounding read!”

  —Dr. Jean G. Spaulding, Forensic Psychiatrist and Associate Consulting Professor of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences, Duke University

  “An amazing first book by a talented new author, MURDER ON BIRCHLEAF DRIVE drops the reader into the complex web and dark beauty of the criminal justice system. Epstein skillfully recounts a chilling tale of human emotion, betrayal, and calculated murder. This story cannot be matched by the best of crime fiction—its power unleashed by the haunting reality of truth. I hope this is the first book among many for this gifted author.”

  — Joseph B. Cheshire, V, criminal defense attorney whose successful representation of Duke University lacrosse players falsely accused of sexual assault received national attention and acclaim

  “Steve Epstein’s debut effort is an outstanding achievement in true crime writing. A seasoned trial attorney in his own right, he skillfully brings this heartbreaking case to life with a detailed accounting of both the crime and the complex legal battles that followed, while helping us get to know the many individuals impacted by the tragic murder of Michelle Fisher Young. This is a must-read for anyone interested in seeing our criminal justice system at work.”

  — Hon. Barbara Jackson, Associate Justice, North Carolina Supreme Court, 2011-2019; Judge, North Carolina Court of Appeals, 2005-2011

  “This fascinating and well-told story of a North Carolina murder and the trials that followed has more twists and turns than the road to Murphy. Clear your schedule and settle down for a long evening with some of the state’s best trial attorneys. I enjoyed the daylights out of it.”

  — Hon. Robert H. Edmunds, Jr., Associate Justice, North Carolina Supreme Court, 2001-2017; Judge, North Carolina Court of Appeals, 1999-2001; U.S. Attorney, Middle District of North Carolina, 1986-1993

  “MURDER ON BIRCHLEAF DRIVE is a gripping story that captures the true essence of a bizarre ‘who done it’ murder investigation and prosecution, with remarkable insights and thoughtful analysis. The book provides an unvarnished look behind the curtain at how the criminal justice system really works. Epstein has skillfully fleshed out the characters involved and courtroom theatrics. A great read, and a must- read, for those who are fascinated with the drama of real life—it’s even better than fiction.”

  —Colon Willoughby, District Attorney of Wake County, North Carolina, 1987-2014

  “Some heinous crimes, like premeditated murder, are relatively easy to solve due to damning physical evidence and direct witness testimony. Others, like the one Steven B. Epstein details in his captivating book, MURDER ON BIRCHLEAF DRIVE, are anything but simple. The solution to such crimes, resulting in justice for the victim, comes only through unwavering witnesses, dedicated law enforcement efforts, and well-prepared prosecutors … This book documents, accurately, the work it takes to make ‘circumstantial evidence’ persuasive. As such it should make the reader appreciate the tenacity those involved in criminal prosecution must display if justice is to truly be done on behalf of victims. An excellent book, and I recommend it highly.”

  —Jerry Boyd, Coronado, California Police Chief (ret.); author of multiple books including FIRESTONE PARK: POLICING SOUTH-CENTRAL LOS ANGELES and MY YEARS AS A CHIEF

  “Reading MURDER ON BIRCHLEAF DRIVE is like being at the scene of the crime and inside the well of the courtroom during every moment of one of North Carolina’s most notorious murder trials. Epstein does an exceptional job with the challenging task of describing how it feels to be there as law enforcement cracks a case and when great lawyers go to battle.”

  —Ripley Rand, U.S. Attorney, Middle District of North Carolina, 2011-2017; Superior Court Judge, 2002-2010

  “There is no way to put down this book! Once you begin, it draws you in right from the start. I felt as though Michelle Young could have been my very own sister. Many times I forgot I was reading a book; it is so difficult to fathom this being a true story.”

  —Stacie Overman, co-star of SyFy’s Ghost Mine, author of ANGEL KISSES: NO MORE CANCER

  MURDER ON BIRCHLEAF DRIVE

  The True Story

  of the

  Michelle Young

  Murder Case

  STEVEN B. EPSTEIN

  MURDER ON BIRCHLEAF DRIVE

  Copyright © 2019 by Steven B. Epstein

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way by any means without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Please note that if you have purchased this book without a cover or in any way marked as an advance reading copy, you have purchased a stolen item, and neither the author nor the publisher has been compensated for their work.

  Our books may be ordered through your local bookstore or by visiting the publisher:

  www.BlackLyonPublishing.com

  Black Lyon Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 567 Baker City, OR 97814

  ISBN: 978-1-934912-86-7

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019936659

  Published and printed in the United States of America.

  In loving memory of Morris Goldstein—my “Papa”—who instilled in me a passion for writing and who taught me good writing is the result of hard work. I hope the pages that follow live up to his example.

  Part I

  Murder

  1

  Friday, November 3, 2006

  12:14 p.m.

  The incessant ringing of her cell phone woke Meredith Fisher from a deep sleep. Slowly, she crawled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She set her phone on the counter and began listening to the voicemail, instantly recognizing the familiar voice of her brother-in-law, Jason Young.

  “Strange,” she thought. In the four years she had known her sister Michelle’s impetuous husband, she couldn’t recall a single time he had called her twice in a week, let alone on consecutive days.

  Jason, who grew up in the North Carolina mountains, had been married to Michelle, a native New Yorker, for just over three years. She was a talented accountant and dedicated mother to the couple’s two-year-old daughter, Cassidy. Though he was a relatively successful salesman and devoted father, Jason often drank and partied like an impulsive college student. That didn’t sit particularly well with Michelle, a meticulous planner who charted out every aspect of her life.

  Their roller-coaster relationship had turned especially sour over the last few months. Meredith, three years younger than Michelle and a manager at the Lucky 32 restaurant, knew the couple’s differences well. After their most recent fight on November 1, Michelle had called her sister in frustration to tell her Jason had thrown a TV remote at her.

  “I’m done. I just can’t do this anymore,” Michelle whimpered despondently.

 
Jason had left a voicemail for Meredith the following morning, after she had begun her shift at Lucky 32. He had overheard Michelle telling Meredith about the TV remote, he said. He vehemently denied her account, telling his sister-in-law Michelle was just being dramatic. He implored her to call him back.

  For better or worse, Meredith had volunteered for this umpiring duty. With a degree in psychology and an interest in pursuing a master’s degree in marriage counseling and social work, she had willingly accepted the role of mediating the all-too-frequent arguments between her sister and brother-in-law.

  The prior Friday evening had turned into a marathon session in the den of Jason’s and Michelle’s Raleigh home, the two arguing over whether and how long Michelle and Meredith’s mother, Linda Fisher—a blunt-spoken Long Islander for whom Jason had little tolerance—would stay at the couple’s home over the Christmas holidays. Jason wanted her to stay at a hotel. Michelle couldn’t dream of asking her mom to do that.

  A related topic that caused a heated argument that night was what would happen after Cassidy’s baby brother, Rylan, was born the following March. Linda had already been a frequent visitor to their home to assist with caring for her granddaughter. Michelle wanted to finish the third-floor attic to create a bedroom for her mother so that she could be Rylan’s nanny. Jason was adamant that wasn’t going to happen. The thought of seeing Linda Fisher in his home every day—and listening to her never-ending criticisms of his treatment of her daughter—was more than he could bear.

  Meredith listened as her sister and brother-in-law bickered about sex and romance. To Jason, romance was asking his wife whether she wanted a “hot beef injection.” Michelle enlisted Meredith to explain to Jason why his vulgar entreaties didn’t make her feel attracted to him. She craved genuine romance. Jason just wanted more sex and was deeply frustrated Michelle wasn’t complying.

  “All of this would go away if you would just let me have a girl on the side,” Jason blurted out as his final, parting shot.

  Exasperated, Michelle rolled her eyes, responding, “Really, this whole discussion, and that’s what you take away from it?”

  That four-hour counseling session was still fresh on Meredith’s mind when she returned Jason’s call from her car after leaving work around 9:00 p.m. on November 2. Jason told his sister-in-law he was on his way to the Virginia mountains for a business trip and had stopped at a Cracker Barrel restaurant in Greensboro for dinner. He insisted he never threw a remote at Michelle. She was blowing things completely out of proportion, he protested.

  Though Meredith wanted to call Michelle to get her take on Jason’s portrayal of their fight, that conversation would have to wait. She had just pulled into the parking lot of the Carolina Ale House, already late for a nightcap with a friend. Meredith also knew her sister had her friend Shelly over that night to watch Grey’s Anatomy, her favorite TV show. They could talk later, Meredith thought.

  So as she brushed her teeth and listened to Jason’s voicemail shortly after noon on November 3, Meredith fully expected his message to be a postscript on their discussion about the TV remote. But to her surprise, his message didn’t mention that topic at all. Rather, Jason asked Meredith for a “huge favor”—to run by his and Michelle’s house to pull some printouts of eBay Coach purse auctions off the printer in the second-floor office.

  As he explained in his voicemail, “I kind of screwed up last night and I actually, when Shelly was over there at our house, I was printing up the Coach stuff that I was looking at on eBay for Michelle and they started coming up the stairs putting Cass to bed right before I left, and I stopped printing, but I thought I grabbed that stuff and put it in my bag to take with me, but I think it’s sitting there on the printer. I talked to Michelle late last night. I don’t think she’s seen it, but I do want to still surprise her.”

  His voicemail continued, “I’m actually going to my parents’ house tonight because I’m so far west. I’m heading to their house right now. My phone is giving horrible reception—I haven’t gotten any all morning. So, I was going to see if you would mind calling me or my mom … and letting her know if you’re able to get that … because if not I’m going to have to think of something [to tell] Michelle in regards to what it is and why I’m printing it because I really do want to surprise her. I think that would be a nice thing and I think your mom would appreciate it that I’m getting leather for the third anniversary. Anyway, well you can certainly try calling me back, but my phone’s been doing weird things. Talk to you later. Bye.”

  This was the second time her brother-in-law had mentioned to Meredith his idea of buying Michelle an expensive leather purse for their anniversary. He first broached that topic two weeks earlier when Meredith swung by the house to print out her work schedule while Michelle was away on a business trip.

  As she arrived, Jason was backing out of the driveway in his white Ford Explorer with his old friend Carol Anne Sowerby in the passenger seat and Cassidy strapped in her car seat in the back. Jason stopped long enough to tell Meredith, through the open car window, he needed help choosing a leather purse for Michelle for their anniversary. She volunteered to go shopping with him and look through her sister’s closet to get some ideas on color.

  Something about that conversation—and Jason’s voicemail—nagged at Meredith as she completed some chores around her house and drove the familiar fifteen-minute route from her Fuquay-Varina home to Jason’s and Michelle’s home in Raleigh. For starters, the couple’s third wedding anniversary was on October 10—more than three weeks ago. It seemed a little late for Jason to be so worried about surprising his wife with a gift.

  Secondly, not once since that chance driveway meeting had her brother-in-law mentioned anything about purchasing a leather purse for Michelle—not while she was there for the marathon counseling session nor during their phone conversation the prior evening. Not a single word.

  Even more baffling, some seventeen hours had elapsed since Jason left home without those printouts. Surely he would have discovered long before now they weren’t in his bag? He knew full well Michelle would have walked within a few feet of their home office—and those printouts—on her way to the master bedroom to go to bed the prior evening and as she got Cassidy up and ready for daycare that morning. Why did he wait until after noon to call her?

  It was about 1:15 p.m. when Meredith pulled into south Raleigh’s Enchanted Oaks subdivision and turned into the driveway at 5108 Birchleaf Drive. Even though it was bright and sunny that afternoon, the lanterns atop the brick pillars at the driveway entrance were still lit.

  “Odd,” Meredith thought. She also noticed the gate to the backyard was open, which also seemed strange because the Youngs’ dog—a black mixed lab named Mr. Garrison—would often be let out into the fenced-in backyard and allowed to roam free.

  Meredith parked her Honda Accord by the front walkway and approached the front door, where she was able to hear Mr. Garrison whimpering from inside. She reached for the house key on her keychain, then remembered she had recently given it to a friend to feed the dog while she, Jason, Michelle, and Cassidy were in New York.

  “Not a problem,” she thought. She went to the back of the house where a door she thought might be open led into the garage. But when she tried to open the door, it was locked.

  Meredith then recalled the electronic garage door opener wasn’t working. She was able to manually lift the door just high enough to slip inside. She was surprised to see Michelle’s silver Lexus SUV sitting in the garage—she was supposed to be at work.

  “Weird,” she thought, her concern beginning to grow.

  As she walked through the unlocked kitchen door, Meredith spotted her sister’s brown purse on the floor against the leg of a small desk at the far end of the kitchen.

  “Michelle?” Meredith called out. “Michelle?”

  No response. Something wasn’t right.

  She quickly climbed the stairs leading to the second-floor bedrooms, her heart beginning to bea
t faster. As she neared the top of the staircase, out of the corner of her eye, Meredith could see dark red streaks in Cassidy’s bathroom to the right of the upstairs landing. There were red stains on the bathroom floor too, as well as on the hallway carpeting. The more closely she looked at the stains, the more bewildered she became. They were actually tiny footprints—Cassidy’s. Perhaps her little niece had gotten into Michelle’s hair dye and made a mess, she speculated.

  “Michelle must be pissed,” she thought.

  Meredith then turned to face the master bedroom, directly across from Cassidy’s bathroom. On the left side of the room, bright red spots were splattered across the walls, all the way up to the ceiling.

  “Oh my God!” she cried out. Near Jason’s closet, a red liquid had soaked through the white comforter on Michelle’s side of the bed. Red splotches dotted her pillow.

  Alarm now reaching a fever pitch, Meredith glanced at the floor between the closet and the bed. There, below the most concentrated red spots on the wall, she was confronted with the most horrifying image of her entire life. Just to the left of the bed, facedown in a large pool of red, lay the lifeless body of her sister.

  Frantically, Meredith reached for the cordless phone on the nightstand next to the other side of the bed. She had barely punched in the numbers 9-1-1 when something else startled her—a rustling from under the covers. To her astonishment, Cassidy wriggled out from beneath them and began staring at her intently. Amazingly, her niece appeared unharmed. She was wearing pink fleece pajamas with no socks, diaper, or underwear. In view of the tiny red footprints on her bathroom floor and hallway carpet, she appeared shockingly clean.