THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, April 13, 1996 TAG: 9604130325
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY JUNE ARNEY, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LONGWOOD GARDENS, PA. LENGTH: Long : 174 lines
In an emotional interview on garden paths he once strolled with his family, Thomas E. Smolka on Friday spoke of being vindicated in the murder of his wife and of the hope he would someday reconcile with his three children.
During the three-hour interview, the first since his 1991 arrest for the slaying of his wife Betty Anne, he talked fondly of the children, whom he hasn't seen since the day of his arrest. And though he would not say he would try to regain custody, he did not rule out the possibility.
He also spoke of the hostility that erupted in Virginia Beach when a Florida appeals court last year overturned his 1993 conviction for murdering Betty Anne, a conviction that resulted in a life sentence. He was released from prison in December.
Anger in Virginia Beach, where the Smolkas had lived, ran so deep after the ruling that some people staged rallies and circulated petitions to try to keep him behind bars.
``I don't harbor any hatred or ill-will toward any of them,'' he said. ``These people have special memories of Betty Anne like I do.''
The garden where he gave the interview, part of the DuPont estate on 1,050 acres in southern Pennsylvania, was the first place he brought Betty Anne to meet his mother, in the fall of 1979. Betty Anne was a plant lover and he had promised one day they could have a greenhouse. The last time they came to the gardens together was in June 1991.
Smolka's voice cracked at times as he wandered the brick paths through aromatic gardens of trumpet tulips, forget-me-nots and orchids. His hands trembled and his eyes welled with tears. He was nervous and said he hadn't slept much the night before.
Smolka, 49, was acquitted of murdering his wife after the Florida appeals court ruled that the circumstantial nature of the case did not justify the conviction. An Ocala jury had convicted the former Virginia Beach developer of first-degree murder in 1991.
``I am innocent and I do feel vindicated,'' he said emphatically. ``I didn't have any doubt that I was going to be leaving that virtual hell. They didn't have the evidence starting off. I knew how good my attorneys were. I knew the process would take care of itself.''
Smolka has his own theories of who the real killer might be. Maybe it was someone who needed drug money, he suggested.
``It appeared to be somebody with a real depraved mind bent on violence, either out for robbery and/-or sexual assault,'' he said. ``I want the killer found. I want him prosecuted and brought to justice.''
But he says he has no assets to pursue the investigation himself. Smolka filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy (total liquidation) two weeks ago in Delaware.
``I've been wiped out,'' he said. ``I've got a lot of liabilities but I don't have the income to pay them. I need a fresh start.''
He is a tall man. Though graying at the temples, his hair is still distinctly blond, his eyes a deep, piercing blue.
For now, he awaits the outcome of litigation and a decision on the custody of his children, who live with their maternal grandparents in Virginia Beach. Negotiations in the civil matter are stalemated.
Smolka rattles off the birth dates of each of his children, quickly calculating their ages. He is trying to negotiate a meeting with Jeff, 15; Katherine, 13; and Molly, 7, through their psychologist and guardian.
``I want to relate to them my feelings and show them I don't have two heads,'' he said.
``I love my children beyond comprehension,'' he said. ``I love them now more than I ever have. It's been an extremely painful process. As you get older, you come to realize even more what's important to you. The longer I am without Betty Anne and know that she can't be with the children, the more I think about how she would want me to be with them. There's a presumption in Virginia, like all other states, that children should be with their natural parent.''
Smolka's license to practice law in Virginia and real estate broker's license in North Carolina have been reinstated. He would like to get back into real estate and civil law work and has not ruled out returning to Virginia, even Hampton Roads. He has already had his business cards printed up and hands them out to people he meets.
The drama began with Betty Anne's disappearance on July 10, 1991, when she left the Ocala Radisson Inn of which he was part owner to buy lightbulbs. Her van was found the next day, its interior spattered with blood. Three days later, roller skaters found her body. She had been shot twice in the chest.
Prosecutors never provided physical evidence to tie Smolka to the killing. None of the fingerprints lifted from the minivan matched Smolka's. A semen stain found in the van did not match Smolka's blood type and prosecutors never explained where it came from. A firearms expert could not find any gunpowder in Smolka's briefcase. And no murder weapon was found.
In making their case, prosecutors used circumstantial evidence such as grass seed that could have linked him to the crime scene and focused on Smolka's desperate financial situation. He had recently insured his wife's life for $500,000.
Prosecutors made much of Smolka's actions after his wife disappeared. He moved to several different hotels, took a trip to St. Augustine and called defense lawyers.
``People question why I went to St. Augustine - I was looking for her,'' he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ``I was with the police five and a half hours. I had been asked and answered the same questions four times. That was a real traumatic experience for me. I was in a state of shock, and it continued for a long time afterward.''
It took police about four and a half months to build their case. On Nov. 20, 1991, they came to his sister and brother-in-law's home in Wilmington, Del., to arrest him.
``Immediately when I was picked up, my children were rounded up and taken to a detention center,'' he said. ``I felt like I was stripped of them. Not only did I lose my wife, now I don't have my children. I'm feeling totally secluded.''
A jury took 14 hours to convict Smolka of murder after a three-week trial.
``From the very beginning, the media was slanted against me,'' he said. ``My so-called peers (the jurors) were from Ocala. I think their view of `presumed innocent' was more slanted toward presumed guilty before they entered that deliberation room.''
Smolka spent 49 months and one day in prison, much of that time at Union Correctional Center in Raiford, Fla. There were at least four killings of prisoners while he was there, and at least one riot - on Super Bowl weekend '95, he said.
While at Union, Florida's oldest and largest prison, Smolka tried to keep up with current events and read The Wall Street Journal, USA Today, Forbes, Fortune, Business Week, Esquire and Atlantic Monthly and psychology books. He worked as a law clerk and kept in close touch with his attorneys and his appeals.
``You had to learn to be unattached,'' he said. ``I viewed my situation as a temporary thing. Quite a few of these people will never get out. A lot of them were repeat offenders.''
He has agreed to do post-conviction work for a couple inmates and may appear before the parole board for another, but otherwise, he said, he does not plan to stay in contact with anyone he met there.
Smolka clearly remembers thinking about Betty Anne in the prison recreation area.
``I walked around the track, endlessly, circle after circle, seeing her and going over everything,'' he said. ``That was a place I could think of nothing else.''
People used to tell him he'd never get out, but Smolka said he remained optimistic.
``I might be to some people a recluse, but I have my ways of getting things accomplished, and I always thought my freedom would come,'' he said.
Smolka said he left prison a changed man with a new respect for the value of the presumption of innocence.
``It was a very saddening experience to be in that type of environment,'' he said. ``I'm not a violent person, and to be forced to be in that experience is pretty hard to take.''
On the long drive home from Florida, after his release from prison in December, Smolka said he asked his brother-in-law, William Whipple III, to stop for a frozen yogurt at McDonald's about five times. It was one of the things he had missed most, along with salmon.
The fashions seem more glitzy in 1996 and technology had passed him by in the time he had been locked up.
One of the first places he headed was Concord Pike Mall. ``I was amazed at the lights and the openness because I'd been confined for so long.''
The first time he played golf, he surprised himself. He shot a par on six holes, birdied one and bogeyed the rest on a par-72 course.
Smolka pronounces Betty Anne's name differently from other words, more distinctly, with a kind of softness and familiarity.
``I think she's up in heaven and I think everything's going to be OK again,'' he said. ``We'll be together. I think she was one of my boosters to getting out.''
Of those who still believe he is guilty, he said:
``However misguided they are, they are responsible for their own thoughts and actions. I just hope when they have a chance to review all that's happened, they'll come to the realization that I'm not the killer and that I want the real killer caught as much as they do. What's happened has happened. Life has to go on for all of us. This thing about hatred is unproductive.''
For now, he wants his children to know he loves them and hopes his critics will hear his side.
``I'm not asking for people to put their arms out and hug me,'' he said. ``But I am asking them to try to understand the circumstances . . . I've come to the realization that maybe I should share things with the public, that I owed an explanation to people that I'm not capable of such a horrible thing.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by VICKI CRONIS/The Virginian-Pilot
Thomas Smolka's voice cracked, his hands trembled and his eyes
welled up as he talked about his wife, Betty Anne.
KEYWORDS: MURDER INTERVIEW PROFILE by CNB