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Sunday, February 4, 2018

Bruce Beresford-Redman's prison diaries - CBS News

Read article : Bruce Beresford-Redman's prison diaries - CBS News

Produced by Josh Yager, Paul LaRosa and Ana Real

"48 Hours" first told the story of Bruce Beresford-Redman in 2012. His wife, Monica, was murdered in a Cancun hotel while his family was vacationing. Bruce returned to the United States to take care of his children, but when Mexico charged him with his wife's murder, he was extradited there to stand trial. Nearly three years later, he is still on trial.

Where does the case stand and how long will Monica's family have to wait for justice? "48 Hours" correspondent Troy Roberts confronts Beresford-Redman about the charges against in him in his first sit-down interview.

Video diary: "My name is Bruce Beresford-Redman ... I'm in a Mexican prison, where I've been on trial now ... for more than two years and nine months. I am accused of the murder of my wife, Monica ... for a crime I did not commit."

In a video diary he made for "48 Hours", Bruce Beresford-Redman says not a day goes by that he doesn't "miss and think about his wife."

Monica's family misses her too.

"I wish I could believe that he didn't have anything to with my sister's murder," said her sister Jeanne Burgos in a 2012 interview with Troy Roberts. "It's for the love that we have for her and all the memories that we have about her ... that we are here today demanding justice."

Bruce Beresford-Redman

Bruce Beresford-Redman

48 Hours

Recording diary entries in his cell inside Cancun's Benito Juarez Prison and elsewhere around the prison compound over a period of four months, Beresford-Redman says he wanted people to "understand what can happen, to get an idea of, what things are like here in Hell."

Video diary: "Making these video has really made me much more visible here ... which is really not a great thing for me...My existence in here has become a very basic struggle to simply survive."

"For many years I worked in reality TV and the reality of reality television, even at its best ... it's a world that is created. Being in here is real ... it is real and it sucks. .. it's noisy and it's smelly and it's sweaty and hot and cramped ... it's extremely uncomfortable.

"This is not an easy place to be I really don't have any, any what you could call real friends here ... and it's impossible for me to really have anybody in here that I can trust."

Riots there are not uncommon. In his video diary, Beresford-Redman documents the effects of being tear-gassed during an uprising.

Video diary: "It's Friday ... I've heard some pops and then I smelled the tear gas ... I'm getting kind of a choking sensation now ... and my eyes are just burning...it's just really strong ... itchy ... burning ... oh, god, it's awful."

A NEW REALITY

Living behind bars has been the reality for Beresford-Redman since "48 Hours" first met him in February 2012.

"This is not the United States. I really don't know this system. I don't know how it works," he told "48 Hours."

Back then, Beresford-Redman was housed in the high security wing of the Benito Juarez Prison -- a cell block full of drug traffickers and assassins responsible for countless murders around Mexico.

Now, he's in general population where he has more freedom. Beresford-Redman agreed to make video diaries to document his day-to-day life. It is a rare glimpse inside a Mexican prison.

Video diary: "Being incarcerated anywhere, but I think maybe especially here, time just gets warped ... it is almost impossible to live in the present because the present is just absolutely miserable."

"I don't think that I could possibly convey what it feels like to have not seen my children, not held my children, for nearly three years now."

"Everything that I worked my life to build is gone... If I'm convicted, I am facing a sentence of 30 years..."

Beresford-Redman says he spends a lot of time reliving time with his wife and kids -- "just times when I was free."

carnaval-011.jpg

Bruce and Monica Beresford-Redman

Images of Monica -- lovely, vivacious and headstrong -- haunt Beresford-Redman.

Video diary:"I've had a lotta time to think back on things and to remember things from the past..."

For more than two years, "48 Hours" tried to get permission to do a sit-down interview in the prison. That interview between correspondent Troy Roberts and Beresford-Redman took place earlier this year.

"How did you meet Monica?" Roberts asked.

"Monica owned a restaurant in and a nightclub in -- in West Los Angeles called Zabumba," Beresford-Redman replied. "I randomly went there one night for dinner. And this beautiful woman served me great food ... it was a fun place. And I ... went back to try and get her attention ... and I sorta never left. ...Monica was the most beautiful, engaging-- just-- she was great. She was so cool, and -- very quickly I found that my relationship with her was different than any relationship I'd ever had before and I was in love with her and she was in love with me and it was terrific."

Monica's sisters, Carla and Jeanne Burgos, say that when Bruce and Monica first met back in 1997, they seemed like a happy couple. The Burgos sisters spoke to "48 Hours" in 2012.

"She had life. She was very outgoing and self-confident," Jeanne said. "Bruce was a very well read person. He can be very eloquent ... but not necessarily the emotion."

After marrying in 1999, the couple had two children: Camilla, now 10, and Alec, now 7.

Monica had the restaurant and Bruce had his career, which was taking off in a hurry. He was a top producer on the CBS program "Survivor" and also worked on several hit reality shows for other networks and cable outlets.

As the money poured in, the family moved to a $2 million house in Los Angeles. With the more lavish lifestyle, came some unexpected challenges.

"Things became difficult?" Roberts asked.

"At times, sure," Beresford-Redman replied. "Both Monica and I worked a great deal. ...I worked during the day, she worked at night ... there was a period of time when we were sort of passing one another."

If that sounds like a recipe for marital discord, it was. Beresford-Redman began an affair with his longtime casting director Joy Pierce. At times, the two had trouble keeping their hands off each other, even in front of Monica's sister, Carla.

"I went with him to a party," she said. "It was a club ... we got there ... she jumped on his lap ... and I was ... you know..."

"You were stunned," Roberts noted.

"Yeah," Carla replied.

Beresford-Redman was struggling with the affair on an emotional level. He considered telling his parents, David and Juanita, and eventually confided in his mother.

Asked if she encouraged her son to break off the affair, Juanita told Roberts, "I did. I said, 'You know, that's the only smart thing to do. You will hurt yourself. You will hurt Monica.' ...I got the impression that he had really fallen in love and it was going to be very difficult for him to break it off."

After Monica angrily confronted her husband, Beresford-Redman wrote her a brutally frank e-mail. It was written on March 4, 2010 - only one month before the couple was to leave on their ill-fated Mexican vacation. In the e-mail, Beresford-Redman laid bare the painful truth, writing: "Joy and I were lovers." Monica was devastated.

"My relationship with Monica was good," said Beresford-Redman.

"You can't paint a rosy picture on this, right? Roberts asked. " I mean ... you guys had problems."

"Like any marriage, like any family, we had -- we had issues, certain issues," he replied. "But we were -- we were happily married and we were in love with each other ... We were good."

Beresford-Redman wouldn't talk to "48 Hours" about his affair, but in an e-mail written to Joy Pierce in the spring of 2010, he outlined the steps a furious Monica had taken against him: "She...denied me access to my children ... she shut me out of my home ... and liquidated all my money, " he wrote.

"It was a point where she had decided to get divorced from him," said Jeanne.

But Beresford-Redman did all he could to change Monica's mind. He promised he'd break off his affair with Joy and told Monica he would change his ways. Monica agreed to go with him for the family vacation they took every year for her upcoming birthday. This time, they traveled to the Moon Palace Resort in Cancun, Mexico.

"And how was the trip, initially?" Roberts asked Beresford-Redman.

"It was good. It was -- it was really fun, you know," he replied.

"So you and Monica got along well during this trip?" Roberts asked.

"Yeah, we had a really good time," said Bruce.

That's hardly the way Monica described the trip, according to her sister, Jeanne, who says she spoke to Monica by phone the day before she was murdered. Jeanne says Monica was upset about Bruce's cheating.

"I told her, 'Monica, don't worry. You know, come back here, just move on with your life,'" Jeanne said. "...you're just going to build up your life again and you're going to be happy again."

The next day, April 5, 2010, was to be the last day of Monica's life.

"She was gonna do some shopping-- and then she was perhaps gonna go to a spa," Beresford-Redman explained.

"And when did you grow concerned?" Roberts asked.

"Probably 10:30 or 11:00 that night," he said, sighing.

Bruce's concern was made all the worse because he says Monica had not taken her cell phone so he could not call her. Police later discovered that she did not take her passport or a room key, either.

"Was that surprising that she didn't take her phone when you were alone with kids?" Roberts asked.

"No. No, not really," Beresford-Redman replied. "When Monica was off the grid, she was off the grid."

She didn't take her cell phone? She left the kids all day with him? She never does that, ever," Jeanne told Roberts.

Video diary: "One of the things that I remember from the night that Monica was first missing was my children sleeping. I had given them baths and I had put them to bed ...and I thought, 'OK, I'm gonna go outside and I'm gonna take a look. I'm gonna see Monica walking back towards the room."

But Monica did not come back to the room -- not that night and not ever. The long, upward trajectory of Beresford-Redman's once-successful life and career was about to end abruptly.

A LOOK INSIDE PRISON LIFE

When Bruce Beresford-Redman left on his family vacation to Mexico in 2010, he probably never thought home would turn out to be Cancun's Benito Juarez prison.

The prison, where he has spent nearly three years on trial for his wife's murder, houses more than 1,800 men and women in a compound originally built for 700.

Video diary: "When I walk around the prison, no matter where I'm going or what's going on, I am constantly aware that this is just a hostile environment for me."

"I'm completely shut down. I'm simply in survival mode," Beresford-Redman told Roberts. "To make it in here, you cannot indulge in human sentiments. ... you really have to deaden part of yourself and just survive."

Video diary: "My Spanish is still not very good ... So I'm always paying attention ... and you're never really able to relax."

It's a pressure cooker of criminals and contraband that often boils over.

"You're with people who have demonstrated poor impulse control and a number of them may have mental problems,"Beresford-Redman explained. "It's not uncommon to have fist fights ... screaming matches ...it is a very dehumanizing situation."

bbrbehindbars.jpg

Bruce Beresford-Redman his cell at Cancun's Benito Juarez Prison.

48 Hours

Video diary: The cell that I'm in is a very small cell ... it's designed for three men. And there are 10 of us in here. There have been as many as 17... This is the bathroom of the cell. All of these buckets are full of water. The water here runs only for a couple hours a day."
"I come back from my workout and I take my first shower of the day ... I shower four times a day ... I wash my clothes ... I do everything I can to keep myself clean and healthy. It's a real struggle ... This place seems like a really great place to incubate a plague. Despite my best efforts I managed to get a rash that everyone else here had that just swept through this place like wildfire."

The cell is open to the elements -- rain and relentless heat. He says the smell from open sewers is blinding, adding that "the whole country -- it feels like is just steaming."

Video diary: This is my bunk where I sleep. I've awakened probably seven or eight times now with a cockroach on me someplace.

Among the personal items Beresford-Redman keeps on a shelf above his bed -- his favorite picture of his daughter and son.

Video diary: "This is breakfast this morning ... brown liquid with some beans on the bottom there I think ... I have gotten violently ill eating the prison food... I have been able to supplement my diet ... with-- food brought from outside. I befriended-- an inmate in here. He has since been released. But his family still comes to see me once a week with some home-cooked meals and some snacks and some other things, so that I don't have to rely entirely on the prison food."

To pay for his food and other expenses, Beresford-Redman's parents send him money from their retirement nest egg. Less fortunate inmates have to rely on meals in buckets served by new prisoners known as "talachos."

Video diary: "They are as close as you can come to slaves. You can buy your way out of it, or you can do your talacho work for your first year here."

"The guards basically maintain a perimeter on the outside and their concern primarily is making sure that nobody gets out... The prisoners discipline each other ... and it's much more dangerous, because there's really nobody to come to your help, to your aid, if you are in trouble in here."

Danger is all around, but he says Mexican prison also means a freedom he never had in American prison, where he spent 18 months awaiting extradition.

Video diary: "In many ways, this is like a very small village that they just threw razor wire around. There's churches in here, there's a mechanic shop in here ... guys making hammocks."

Some of the women prisoners are even allowed to have their children live with them. Three times a week it's visiting day.

Video diary: "...this place is full today of families ... on visit days. From 8:00 in the morning to 3:00 in the afternoon the prison ... fills up with families and wives and kids...

"Family is extraordinarily highly valued here and the prison administration and prisoners themselves and the gangs in here have enormous respect for the visits."

He says visit days make him sad, "a little melancholy." There are no family visits for Beresford-Redman.

Video diary: "I would not allow them. I don't want them to be confronted with how I am forced to exist in here."

So Beresford-Redman hasn't seen them in nearly three years. His lifeline is phone calls to his children, Alec and Camilla, who live with his parents in California.

Video diary: "To hear my kids' voices, to hear my parents' voices ... is the best, most human part of my day. ... I have not been able to be a father to Camilla and Alec for ... years now. It is devastating. It takes all of my energy just to keep going."

But there's no choice. Beresford-Redman, his family, and Monica's sisters are all navigating an unfamiliar landscape: justice in a foreign country.

"There's no question that the Mexican legal system is different from ours," said Sonya Tsiros, U.S. Consul General for the Cancun area.

Tsiros says she is closely following the Beresford-Redman case - and that by Mexican standards, it doesn't surprise her.

"Has Mr. Beresford-Redman complained to you about the length of this trial?" Roberts asked.

"He has raised that issue," Tsiros replied. "And we're following through on that."

"Do you have any sense of what the prison conditions are like?" Roberts asked.

"I would say that the prison conditions are not up to what we would consider standards in the United States," said Tsiros.

Beresford-Redman, at least, has a bed. "48 Hours" found another American, 38-year-old Johnny Mintu, from Seattle, who, incredibly, sleeps on the floor under Bruce's bunk. It's not uncommon in this prison.

Video diary: "From time to time ... when I just really need some privacy and a little bit of quiet and just a little more space than I can get in my cell or in the rest of the prison ... I book a conjugal room."

Most inmates rent the room for sex. Beresford-Redman says he rents it for peace and quiet.

Video diary: "You're not supposed to be in here by yourself. But I just put down the name Jane Doe and nobody's ever checked."

Trying to recreate life outside the bars is only a temporary escape.

Video diary: "I cannot afford in here to appear on the outside as absolutely broken as I feel on the inside."

As the sun begins to set, the prisoners are locked in for the night.

Video diary: Another night here ... another night in paradise ... then I just lay down and try to go to sleep...

It's a sleep, he says, that is haunted by the memory of his murdered wife.

Video diary: "I still miss her all the time and I still think of her all the time ... I never lose sight of the fact that this is really Monica's story."

Monica's story is a murder mystery. And for Beresford-Redman, it's a real whodunit.

THE DAY MONICA DISAPPEARED

With so much time on his hands, Bruce Beresford-Redman says he thinks often of the day Monica disappeared.

"As soon as I was awake, I called the hotel desk, I guess, and I said you know, 'My wife didn't come back yesterday. Do you know where she is?'" Beresford-Redman told Troy Roberts.

Monica Beresford-Redman

Monica Beresford-Redman

After reporting that she was missing, he called Jeane Burgos, Monica's sister.

"When Bruce called you to say that Monica was missing what went through your mind?" Roberts asked.

"My sister missing? Monica? Monica's not a person that gets lost, she doesn't get lost," Jeanne replied. "She's a person that she goes anywhere and she makes friends and she knows what she's doing."

A worried Jeanne immediately flew to Cancun to help with the search, but the next day, hotel workers found Monica's body in that sewer situated near the family's hotel room.

"How could someone put a person in the sewage. Very, very, very horrible," she said.

"How did you learn that her body was discovered?" Roberts asked Beresford-Redman.

"I was at the hotel ... I was sitting there waiting ...and they brought me back to my room," he replied. "I had no idea what was going on. ...Finally someone told me that they had found Monica's body.

It would have been her 42nd birthday.

Video diary: "I could not make sense of that. It just didn't seem possible."

Bruce Beresford-Redman became a suspect almost immediately because investigators thought his story of Monica's disappearance defied logic. They didn't believe she would leave the children behind without taking her room key, her passport, or even her cell phone. What's more, Beresford-Redman had visible scratches on his body.

He says the injuries to his hand occurred after a boat ride as he tried to carry his children up a steep incline.

"It was rocky and slippery and I had to lift the kids out and then climb out myself and I scratched my hands a little bit," he explained.

As for the scratches to the back of his neck?

"We were diving ... and I surfaced and there was a nylon rope and it was just a rough nylon rope and it abraded ... the back of my head a little bit and that was it," he told Roberts.

Police also learned that two English teenagers had reported hearing screams coming from Beresford-Redman's room very early on the morning Bruce said Monica went shopping.

Jen Heger covered the story for Radar Online.

"A female screamed crying for help," Heger explained. "The next morning, the teenagers told their parents about what they had heard to the concierge. The concierge called the hotel room to see what was going on and Bruce said that Bruce and Monica were arguing about the children and that everything was fine."

Beresford-Redman maintains that he and the children were simply playing a loud, boisterous game. But now his every move was coming under scrutiny.

Asked why he had a "do not disturb" sign on the door all day, Beresford-Redman told Roberts, "Well, I was in and out all day with the kids. We were napping and doing stuff and didn't wanna be disturbed. It's as simple as that really."

"The Mexican authorities believe that Bruce wouldn't allow the maids to clean the room that day because there was a dead body inside and that dead body belonged to his wife -- Monica," said Heger.

The police theorized that Beresford-Redman had suffocated his wife and, later that night, went looking for a place to stash her body.

"We also know," Heger continued, "someone went in and out of the room nine times in the middle of the night."

Beresford-Redman says he was nervously checking to see if Monica was about to return.

"I was in and out of the room many times to take a look to see if I could see her, to walk down to where the footpath is visible and to take a look and return to the room," Beresford-Redman told Roberts.

Back in Los Angeles, Monica's sister, Carla Burgos, thought back to the last time she had seen Bruce and how agitated he seemed to her. It was just two days before the family left for Cancun.

"I've seen him before they traveled and he was totally angry and crazy. I said, 'Don't be around him ... Monica, please listen to me, get out,'" she said.

"Why do you think Monica's family is convinced that you killed her?" Roberts asked.

"I really don't know," Beresford-Redman replied. "I understand their pain. I understand their sense of loss. After my children and myself, their loss is the greatest ... however, why they wanna blame me, I don't know ... that I don't know."

Monica also had life insurance. Her husband was not the beneficiary, but the children stood to inherit $500,000 each. All in all, investigators believed they had a strong circumstantial case but there remained a huge question -- how could Beresford-Redman kill his wife, and then dump her body while taking care of two young children?

"They were in one hotel room and it was not a suite. It was one room," said Heger.

There was scant physical evidence against Beresford-Redman except for a very small amount of blood investigators found on the bedroom pillow and a balcony railing.

"When people look at you with suspicion, how do you feel?" Roberts asked.

"I've been accused of a horrible, abhorrent crime and I'm innocent," said Beresford-Redman.

"You did not kill Monica," said Roberts.

"I did not kill Monica," Bruce replied.

But the police were convinced Bruce Beresford-Redman did kill Monica and they had no other suspects. The hotel, which says it kept written logs of everyone entering or leaving the grounds, reported it had no record of Monica leaving that day. And if there are security cameras at the Moon Palace, no recordings have surfaced.

Video diary: "My best guess would be that somewhere in the course of her day, she ran into some people that she should not have run across ... I think perhaps she attracted the attention of someone who was very dangerous."

While Beresford-Redman was cooperating with police, his children were taken back to Los Angeles by a friend of Jeanne Burgos. She also arranged for her sister's body to be brought back, even though Beresford-Redman had already paid for Monica to be cremated.

"Why do you think Bruce moved to have Monica cremated?" Roberts asked Jeanne Burgos.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory," she said.

"Why do you think?" Roberts pressed.

"To get rid of any evidence," Jeanne replied.

Beresford-Redman stayed in Mexico for about a week after Monica's body was found. Authorities took his passport and insist they ordered him to remain in the country. He says his lawyer told him he was free to return to the United States.

bbrroberts.jpg

"48 Hours" correspondent interviews Bruce Beresford-Redman

48 Hours

"This is what I find a little difficult ... is that they're investigating your wife's murder and you go home? Why wouldn't you stay here?" Roberts asked.

"Well, because I have two small children who were at my home. They just lost their mom and I believed at the time that I had done all I could do to help the police so I went home to be with my children," he replied.

Having no passport, Beresford-Redman got a ride to the Mexican border near Laredo, Texas, and simply walked across using his driver's license for identification. From there, he took a train rather than fly back to Los Angeles. His unorthodox journey raised suspicions.

"You didn't go back to the United States to escape possible arrest?" Roberts asked Beresford-Redman.

"No, I went home to be with my children. I was at my home. I was not hiding. If I'd been trying to evade I would have attempted to evade. I went back to the United States and went directly home," he explained.

Beresford-Redman cared for his children for seven months. But in November 2010, Mexico declared him a fugitive and issued a warrant for his arrest. He was taken to a federal jail in Los Angeles where he stayed for more than a year until he was finally extradited back to Cancun to stand trial for the murder of his wife.

"Bruce probably feels that he is trapped in the worst reality show he could ever imagine," said Heger.

SEEKING JUSTICE IN MEXICO

In February 2012, Bruce Beresford-Redman -- outfitted in a bulletproof vest -- was extradited back to Mexico in a scene straight out of a movie.

Video diary: "I was taken by the U.S. Marshals to the airport ... I was brought here in the middle of the night in a rainstorm..."

"I hoped that my trial would end quickly when I got here," he told Roberts.

That is not what happened. Essentially, the courts in Mexico move at their own pace. There are no juries and in many courtrooms on any given day, there's more than one trial going on at the same time.

Video diary: "The courtroom that I'm being tried in looks like a very busy shipping office above a warehouse someplace."

Criminal defense lawyer Pat Fanning lives part-time in Mexico and has experience with the country's judicial system.

"They just don't have the resources to do the things the way we do," Fanning told Roberts. "Here, it's more like a municipal office in the United States where you'd go to get your driver's license, where you'd go to pick up a birth certificate or something."

U.S. Consul General Sonya Tsiros says the differences are more than cosmetic.

"There's not a trial, per se, in that there is one period of time in which a judge hears all of the evidence. ... It's done through a series of written presentations to the judge," Tsiros explained. "It doesn't occur ... in the same fashion in the United States."

But as the trial has dragged on, what once seemed like a strong prosecution case appeared to evaporate in court. Testing revealed that the blood droplets found in the hotel room did not belong to Monica. That raised questions about where Monica had been killed because she had suffered a substantial head wound.

"Our experts ... say it is not possible to kill someone and produce that type of injuries without leaving blood," said Jaime Cancino, who is one of Beresford-Redman's lawyers in Mexico. "If that have happened there... it would produced a humungous quantity of blood."

In court, prosecutors could not even produce the Q-tips investigators used to collect the blood. Most everything else they took from the family's hotel room as potential evidence turned out to be contaminated by mold and water damage while in police custody.

And some of the physical evidence presented at trial helped Beresford-Redman. Footprints found near the crime scene were not Bruce's. It also came to light that Monica's fingernails were not tested for the presence of DNA because her body was so decomposed.

"There isn't much direct evidence and the evidence they do have has been contaminated, largely," Roberts noted to Fanning.

"Well, it has in -- in large part. But you still have, for example, that they were havin' marital troubles ... that he had a girlfriend ... the life insurance policy on her for half-a-million dollars," he replied.

But in court, even the circumstantial case against Beresford-Redman appeared weaker than advertised.

Some witnesses, like the English teenagers who reported overhearing screams coming from the Beresford-Redman room, did not appear in court. Beresford-Redman says other witnesses did not repeat the stories they had first told police.

"It's clear to me that they have no idea what happened to my wife," he told Roberts. "There was witness, who was a housekeeper, I think. And he came in ... and before anyone asked a question, he said, 'I wasn't there that day. I didn't see anything. I don't know anything and I don't know why I'm here as a witness.'"

Another person not called to the stand or even part of the case was Emily Hamilton from Baltimore. She says she was nearly raped at the Moon Palace one month after Monica was murdered. And her attacker, Hamilton says, was a hotel worker delivering food to her room.

"He threw me on the bed. ... He had his arms around me. I was trying to force him off and I remember feeling pain ... 'cause I thought I could fend for myself, but he was too strong and overbearing ... and that's when I yelled for my friend Casey and she came back in and that's when he was pulling up his pants and that's when he ran out of the room," said Hamilton.

"So you must've been frightened out of your mind," said Roberts.

"Very much so," Hamilton replied.

That worker was fired. In the United States, it's likely he'd be a suspect in Monica's murder, but that possibility was not raised in Beresford-Redman's trial. However, in 2013, an independent criminologist was appointed by the court to review all the evidence against Beresford-Redman.

"He reviewed the case, he visited the crime scene, he did all the things required to make his report," Beresford-Redman told Roberts.

After six months, the criminologist released a bombshell of a report. His conclusion: Monica was not murdered in her Moon Palace hotel room and there was no physical evidence linking Beresford-Redman to her murder.

Video diary: "I naively assumed at that point that the prosecution would drop the charges and would focus their investigative efforts elsewhere ... and nothing has happened. Charges aren't dropped. My trial continues with no end in sight. I'm still here..."

"If you're gonna convict me, convict me so I can appeal. Otherwise just give me a ruling so I can go home," said Beresford-Redman.

"Do you think you're being unfairly singled out?" Roberts asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "It feels at times to me like they don't wanna do anything with me. I'm stuck and ... in many ways I feel like I'm without a country."

Sonia Tsiros says members of the U.S. consulate have visited Beresford-Redman on 19 separate occasions.

"U.S. citizens who are arrested in a foreign country are subject to the laws of that foreign country," Tsiros explained. "We can't intervene in court cases and we can't request special treatment for U.S. citizens."

"Can you use the influence of your office to move things along?" Roberts asked.

"If there's due process violation, we can raise those. But we can't intervene in -- in a case," she said.

"I'm broken inside. I have lost my wife. I lost my children ... I've lost everything else," Beresford-Redman told Roberts. "I'm on emotional autopilot, just surviving every day in the hopes that I will finally at some point get outta here but that is a diminishing hope."

Of course, he is not the only one who's lost a loved one.

"Everybody loved her," Carla Burgos said of her sister, Monica. "She was so awesome, so full of life. She was so fun, so smart. Everything,"

Each side hopes for justice ... and that may soon be coming because after nearly three years, the last witnesses will finally testify.

A LAST HEARING

After years in a Mexican prison - and in legal limbo - Bruce Beresford-Redman's trial finally may be nearing an end.

Video diary: "It's a Thursday afternoon. Tomorrow I will be taken back to court, and I am told it will be the last hearing in my trial...

"It's very difficult for me to get my hopes up... because I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop ... and so often it seems to drop on my head."

He says the trial so far hasn't made any sense. Lost or contaminated evidence, missing witnesses and agonizing delays. It's his first court date in about three months.

On this day, he's set to face the prosecutor's final two witnesses -- hotel employees who may have witnessed Bruce and Monica arguing the day before her murder.

"How many times have you appeared before this judge?" Roberts asked.

"If I had to guess, I would say probably, 40, maybe 45 appearances in court over two-and- a-half years. At the many of those appearances, however-- the witness doesn't show up, and we stand around for a little while and they reschedule the witness for another eight weeks or 10 weeks down the road and we all go home again," Beresford-Redman replied.

But these witnesses actually do show up. Today, it's the judge who doesn't.

Like many of the other hearings, this one goes ahead anyway with the judge's assistant presiding.

Video diary: "...the witnesses arrived ... no one including the prosecution seemed to have any idea what they were going to say..."

Incredibly, the final two prosecution witnesses sound like part of the defense team. Both tell the court they've never laid eyes on Beresford-Redman or his wife.

"We didn't hear them arguing," one of them told "48 Hours" after the hearing. "We didn't even see their faces."

With no more witnesses on either side, Mexican law requires the judge to conclude the evidence phase of the trial within about five days; but that doesn't happen.

"Why don't we have a verdict?" Roberts asked Pat Fanning.

"Because we're in Mexico," he replied. "That's how things are done here and nobody gets excited about it."

For nearly three years, "48 Hours" has asked Mexican authorities to go on the record about this case. But they refused.

Back in prison, it's hard for Beresford-Redman not to hope.

Video diary: "Yesterday was a good day...and you sort of take them as they come..."

"I am absolutely confident that if -- if there is a ruling according to the facts, that I will be exonerated," he said.

"And when will that happen?" Roberts asked.

"Well ... that I don't know. That's my problem," he replied.

But the Burgos sisters insist Bruce is right where he should be. And justice for Monica demands that he stay there.

"If he really killed my sister, which it looks like he did, I want him in jail. But it doesn't make me happy to see him in jail," said Carla Burgos.

Video diary: "I spend a lotta time in here looking over the barbed wire ... I can see birds and green trees and life outside -- oh this Hell...

"It's really time for me to go home. It's time for me to be with Camilla and Alec. It's time for me to try and put back together some kind of a life for them and for myself."

His parents, meanwhile, are trying to keep life in California as normal as possible for Alec and Camilla, but it's not easy -- they're 81 and 76.

Juanita Beresford-Redman has been keeping a video diary, too:

"It's ... about 8:30 in the morning. The children have gone off to school. It's reasonably quiet at the moment.

"Camilla's birthday is coming up ... and she asked me yesterday did I think daddy might be able to home for her birthday this year... and I told her honestly, "No honey...he's not gonna make it this year."

"Is it your fear that this may go on indefinitely?" Roberts asked Juanita.

"It is a fear," she replied. "I can't see why it's gone on this long."

Carla and Jeanne Burgos tried and failed to get custody, but they have regular visitation with the children.

"We love those kids more than anything in this world," Jeanne said. "It's not what is good, what is bad, it's what is the best for the kids."

"We are a family, but we're not their father... we're their grandparents," Juanita said. "We love them, but, it's not the same."

"I will never make my peace with being incarcerated for something I didn't do. I will never rest or stop fighting. I may lose continually, but I'm never gonna stop ... because this is crap," Beresford-Redman told Roberts.

But as memories and milestones slip past, all Bruce Beresford-Redman can do is watch, wait, and wish his children well.

Video diary: "...I love you guys, I miss you. Be strong and ... and all I want is for you guys to have the best life you can."

Prosecutors should be submitting their closing arguments in writing by the end of November.

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Would definitely recommend - Review of Apsley House Hotel, Bath, England

Read article : Would definitely recommend - Review of Apsley House Hotel, Bath, England

We were looking for a peaceful, romantic getaway that was close to the town but felt like it was in the country and Apsley House fit the bill perfectly. We arrived Friday night after the reception had closed and were given directions to let ourselves in, which were very easy to follow.

The room was immaculate and the bed was divine - we felt like a king and queen in the gorgeous four-poster bed (Wellesley Room, ground floor) and slept brilliantly. The shower was also fantastic, with gorgeous complimentary Molton Brown lotions to use, and the towels were amazingly soft and luxurious.

Breakfast was incredible, including the sweetest, freshest fruit I've ever tasted, served on the lovely French Dresser, and beautifully cooked breakfasts prepared by the kitchen. Impressively there were ample gluten-free and vegetarian options, which was fantastic. The view was delightful and the service impeccable.

As there are only a dozen rooms and the bar shuts at 10pm, the whole house was wonderfully quiet in the evenings and the hot chocolate in the room made for a cosy bedtime experience watching a late night movie on the wall-mounted tv.

The garden was very well taken care of, although sadly the weather wasn't great while we were there. Everything about the house exuded class and elegance, right down to the napkins at breakfast which are made of the softest linen.

Last, but by no means least, the service was first class. The managers were relaxed and inconspicuous but always ready to help with guidance to add to the enjoyment of our stay - and their smiles were infectious. The website and local information provided in the room was also very helpful.

We were able to walk into Bath City Centre or catch a cab there or back (approx £7 each way) so we were able to enjoy everything the city had to offer during the day and then sink into bed at the end of the day. Had we had time (and good weather) no doubt we would have ventured for a walk into the countryside, going down to the waterside and perhaps visiting some of the local pubs.

It really was the perfect choice for a weekend break, I can't think of a single flaw - even the other guests were lovely! The only problem was that we couldn't stay longer.
Highly recommended.

Monday, October 9, 2017

Review: Park Hyatt Toronto

Read article : Review: Park Hyatt Toronto

I spent about 36 hours in Toronto this past weekend visiting friends, which was my first time spending a night in the city. In the past I’ve visited the city for an afternoon during a long layover, and I’ve spent the night near the airport, but I’ve never spent a night in the city.

As a Hyatt and Starwood loyalist I took a close look at the options — Hyatt has two properties (a Regency and a Park), and then Starwood has several properties, all of which are mid-range and look cookie cutter.

So I decided to book the Park Hyatt Toronto, which had rates of 279CAD per night (~215USD). Best of all that rate was bookable through Virtuoso, which got me the following benefits:

  • Upgrade on arrival, subject to availability
  • Daily full breakfast, for up to two in room guests in restaurant
  • $100 USD equivalent Resort or Hotel credit, to be utilized during stay (not combinable, not valid on room rate, no cash value if not redeemed in full, not applicable to Spa Products purchases or Gift shop)
  • Early check-in/late check-out, subject to availability

Admittedly a lot of these perks overlapped with my Diamond status, but at a minimum I’d be getting a 100CAD hotel credit. The Virtuoso rate was the same as the flexible rate and just 15CAD per night higher than the advance purchase rate, so was well worth it to me.

I should note that before I stayed here, several friends warned me that this is one of the dumpier Park Hyatts out there, and isn’t really worthy of the Park Hyatt flag, so I came in with fairly low expectations.

I took an Uber to my hotel on Friday evening, which cost about 35CAD. The drive took about 40 minutes, as I was fortunately arriving shortly after prime rush hour.

This is one of the larger Park Hyatt properties, with 346 rooms. The hotel has two towers, which are connected by a long hallway and the lobby.

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Park Hyatt Toronto exterior

As I pulled up to the hotel I was completely ignored by the bellmen. Not that I needed help since I just had a carry-on, but usually at luxury hotels (or any hotels, for that matter) they’ll at least greet you and point you towards reception.

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Park Hyatt Toronto driveway

When facing the hotel, the lobby is located towards the left, and it’s definitely rather old world, though at least manages not to be too outdated.

While the bellmen ignored me, the front office associate checking me in was extremely friendly and efficient. I was checking in at around 7:20PM and told her I had dinner plans at 7:30PM, so she had me checked in within a minute. She informed me that I’d receive breakfast, and that I’ve also been upgraded to the hotel’s single renovated room, which they’re testing as a model for how to redo all the rooms

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Park Hyatt Toronto lobby

I was also given a letter explaining the Virtuoso privileges.

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Park Hyatt Toronto Virtuoso welcome letter

My room was located on the opposite side of the hotel, so I took the long hallway to the other end. I sort of loved the design of the hallway, which is timeless, in my opinion.

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Park Hyatt Toronto hallway to elevators

At the end of the hallway were the three elevators to guest rooms (which are slightly less timeless, in my opinion).

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Park Hyatt Toronto elevators

I took the elevator up to the eighth floor, where my room was located.

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Park Hyatt Toronto hallway

I was assigned room 833, which had me turning left out of the elevator, and then it was at the end of the hallway on the right. Let me say once again that this is the one renovated room in the hotel, which they apparently completed a bit over a month ago. They’re testing it for a while to work out the kinks, and will then bring the design hotel-wide.

The room featured a wide entryway, with a connecting door on the right and the bathroom on the left. The room was quite large and it’s clear they wanted to fill all the space, though I found the presence of two benches in the entryway to a standard room to be a bit odd. I can see using one as a luggage stand, but two seems like an overkill.

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated king room entrance

The room was a great size, with a king size bed, curved couch, and desk.

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated king room

The king size bed was extremely comfortable, and I especially liked that the pillows were quite large (I really don’t like square pillows).

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated king room

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Park Hyatt Toronto king room

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated king room

The desk featured a comfortable leather chair, lamp, and phone.

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Park Hyatt Toronto king room desk

Then in the corner was a curved couch which could seat several people. There was both a side table, as well as a larger table in front of the couch. The couch was comfortable, so I really liked the design, as I haven’t seen one of these in a hotel room before.

There was a big lamp behind the couch. The only issue is that best I could tell you could only turn it on using the button which was on the floor behind the couch. There was no easy way to reach it, though.

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Park Hyatt Toronto king room seating area

Across from the bed was a large flat screen TV on a chest, and next to that was the minibar.

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Park Hyatt Toronto king room desk & TV

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Park Hyatt Toronto king room desk & TV

There was an illy coffee machine inside the minibar, which made some great coffee — I actually liked it more than a Nespresso machine.

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Park Hyatt Toronto king room minibar and illy coffee machine

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Park Hyatt Toronto king rooilly coffee machine

The refrigerated items in the minibar were all in a pull-out drawer, as I’ve found to be the case at many hotels.

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Park Hyatt Toronto king room minibar

The room faced views of the surrounding streets and buildings, though since I was only on the eighth floor, there wasn’t much to see. At least the immediate area was pretty quiet.

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated room view

The bathroom featured a sink, toilet, and then a walk-in shower.

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated room bathroom

The toilet was located to the right of the sink, and wasn’t partitioned off in any way.

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated room toilet

Then there was the shower, which had fantastic water pressure and two heads, but there’s just one major issue — the shower controls are on the opposite side of the shower of where you enter. The shower controls aren’t labeled, so the only way to turn on water is by getting in the shower and getting soaked. It amazes me how many hotels screw this up — have the people who designed these showers never stayed in a hotel before?

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated room shower

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated room shower

All bath amenities were the Bergamote 22 line from Le Labo, which is tough to beat.

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Park Hyatt Toronto renovated room Bergamote toiletries

I’ve never stayed in the old rooms, though I think the hotel did a fantastic job with their new model room, all things considered. The decor is modern and (for the most part) functional, so I assume this will be a huge improvement over their old rooms.

The first morning I had breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant, Annona, which serves breakfast starting at 6:30AM.

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Park Hyatt Toronto restaurant entrance

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Park Hyatt Toronto restaurant

The breakfast menu read as follows:

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I selected the “Leisure Weekend Breakfast.” While breakfast was included, I couldn’t help but think it was an especially good value for breakfast at a luxury hotel, especially when you consider the prices are in CAD and not USD.

The breakfast came with illy coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice. Since the breakfast included waffles, I was brought a cute maple leaf-shaped bottle of maple syrup.

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Park Hyatt Toronto breakfast — orange juice and maple syrup

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Park Hyatt Toronto breakfast — illy coffee

The breakfast began with a yogurt parfait, which was tasty as could be.

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Park Hyatt Toronto breakfast — yogurt, granola, and fruit parfait

Once the main arrived I realized I had ordered way too much food. Breakfast consisted of toast, waffles with strawberries and bananas, scrambled eggs (which I requested well done), breakfast potatoes, and a side of fruit (which I was offered since I didn’t want any of the meat which usually comes with breakfast).

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Park Hyatt Toronto breakfast — scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and waffles

Breakfast was tasty, though service was slow. There seemed to be one guy serving the entire area, so when I was done it was 15 minutes before I could flag him down and sign the check.

I also ordered room service lunch one day (I know, Anthony Bourdain would be appalled), and ordered french onion soup, chickpea curry with broccoli, and coffee.

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Park Hyatt Toronto room service lunch

Both dishes were excellent.

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Park Hyatt Toronto room service lunch — french onion soup

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Park Hyatt Toronto room service lunch — chickpea and broccoli curry

I also used the hotel’s gym once, which is on the basement level. I’m not sure if they’re renovating the gym and just have a temporary setup or what, because the gym was abysmal.

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Park Hyatt Toronto gym

It had more than enough treadmills, ellipticals, and bikes, but other than that just had a set of weights and three weight machines. That would be acceptable for a secluded resort, but for a city hotel that seems rather underwhelming.

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Park Hyatt Toronto gym

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Park Hyatt Toronto gym

My flight on Sunday morning was at 8AM, so I left the hotel at around 6AM. Check-out was efficient, and the drive to the airport took about 25 minutes.

Park Hyatt Toronto bottom line

Is this property to the level of the Park Hyatt Maldives, Park Hyatt Sydney, etc.? Nope. But it’s a solid city hotel, and given the price point, I’d definitely return.

The renovated room was well done overall, so it’ll be great when the design is expanded to other rooms. I found the hotel’s location to be good, though I’m also not an expert on Toronto. Service at the hotel was hit or miss, and the hotel lacked the lux feeling you get from some other Park Hyatt properties.

But overall Toronto doesn’t seem like an amazing hotel market, so I’d recommend the Park Hyatt (at least the renovated room, which is all I can speak to as of now).

Do you have a favorite Toronto hotel?

Driving in the U.S.'s Only All-Female Endurance Road Race

Read article : Driving in the U.S.'s Only All-Female Endurance Road Race

It was 4 p.m. and 90 degrees when we finally decided to give up. For hours, Jaclyn and I had been inching our Jeep Rubicon along a dusty unmarked road in the Mojave National Preserve, eventually finding ourselves trapped in a high-walled canyon. We had no idea how far off course we were: Two miles? Twenty? We hadn't seen another human all afternoon. Soon it would be dusk, then nightfall.

We were lost. Not Can you pull up Google Maps?lost, or Do we still have a road atlas somewhere?lost. No, we were Are we in California or Nevada?lost; Thank god we have emergency supplieslost; This landscape would be gorgeous if it weren't so apocalyptic lost. The Jeep's GPS system had been disabled, and our phones and laptops were turned off and sealed in envelopes. We had a collection of specialized large-scale topographical maps, but to figure out where you are on a topo map (a relief map that shows a region's geographical features), you have to know how to read it. I was supposed to be the better topo reader in our pair, and I could barely pick out the most prominent landmarks. If coyotes or unfriendly strangers appeared, we'd be completely, royally screwed.

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Is that the road?

Nicole Dreon

We sat in the Jeep with the air conditioning on high, eating sugary energy chews and gulping down coconut water.

We'd signed up for this. Willingly. For fun.


That was day four of the inaugural Rebelle Rally, a female-only navigational road rally—the first of its kind. For seven days last fall, 72 women—36 teams of two—off-roaded over 1250 miles, through two national parks and five Bureau of Land Management areas (government-managed public lands). We started in Nevada's Lake Tahoe and ended in Glamis, California; in between, we rambled down dirt roads, clambered over dry riverbeds and mountain passes, and coasted over terrifyingly high sand dunes.

This all called for a set of navigation skills no one uses anymore—unless you're a sailor or a fifth grader prepping for a social studies test.

Throughout the course, 140 checkpoints were hidden behind broken-down mine shacks, just beyond hairpin turns, deep inside mountain crevices, and sometimes, blessedly, directly on the route. Large green flags marked the easiest-to-find checkpoints; smaller blue flags identified intermediate ones. Black checkpoints, the most difficult to find, weren't marked at all. Each was worth a certain number of points. The goal: Rack up as many as possible.

Every morning we were given a list of checkpoints to find that day (one day there'd be 12; another day, 22), defined solely by their latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates. We had to plot them on our topo maps, then use geometry to strategize how to get from one to the next. This all called for a set of navigation skills no one uses anymore—unless you're a sailor or a fifth grader prepping for a social studies test. We weren't allowed phones, GPS, or outside help. Kind of like an adult female Eagle Scouts on steroids, or Survivor meets The Amazing Race in the American West.

One of our topo maps; early morning plotting at camp.

Whitney Joiner; Nicole Dreon

The automotive world is notoriously male-dominated, making a women-only motorsports event revolutionary. (There are a few all-women rallies and races scattered across the globe, out of hundreds of annual motorsports events overall; the Rebelle is the only one in the U.S.) "I've been in races where I was the only woman driving," the Rebelle's founder, 50-year-old Emily Miller, told me. "I've had people recommend I wear a tight pink race suit."

Miller grew up between Arkansas and Colorado, skiing, biking, and reading her father's car magazines. In her 30s, she launched a sports marketing firm and started to race cars and teach at racing and off-roading schools. When creating the Rebelle—which took three years of planning, 40 Bureau of Land Management permits, and 60 staffers to pull off—Miller combined her favorite aspects of the rallies and races she'd participated in over the years.

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She was determined to create an event where women could test their mettle. "Most automotive events are designed from a man's perspective," Miller said, meaning that they're usually speed races, where the goal is to get from Point A to B as fast as possible. But the Rebelle isn't a race, she reminded us daily. It demanded endurance, accurate navigation, and communication. "Women excel in endurance events," she explained. "Women think about the rules and the challenge. They want to win, but they're not there to prove how fast they can go."

My team's combined experience was…limited. "Winning" never crossed our minds; we just hoped to finish without killing the Jeep—or one another. My teammate, Jaclyn Trop, is an auto reporter who reviews luxury cars, but we both quickly realized that her professional expertise didn't translate into real-world driving and car maintenance knowledge. While she knows her way around a racetrack, she didn't know how to read a map.

Naïve enthusiasm seemed like a perfectly legitimate qualification to enter a highly-detailed endurance event requiring a complex Venn diagram of skills I didn't possess.

Not that I know anything about cars. I can sort of drive a stick shift, and sort of change a tire. I'd signed up for the Rebelle Rally because tooling around isolated Southwestern back roads is one of my all-time favorite activities, something I discovered during the six years I lived in Far West Texas. (Aimless desert driving is terrible for the environment, but good for the soul.)

At first, my lack of experience didn't faze me. Naïve enthusiasm seemed like a perfectly legitimate qualification to enter a highly-detailed endurance event requiring a complex Venn diagram of skills I didn't possess. This blind optimism buoyed me for months: the Rebelle was just a crazy-sounding adventure, far off in the distance, something to think about later.

But six weeks before the rally, during a training weekend with a handful of other competitors in California's Borrego Springs, my optimism cratered into a black hole of fear and self-loathing. Surrounded by women far more experienced than me, all of whom could probably MacGuyver a tire blowout with a piece of gum, my lack of preparation smacked me in the face. Latitude and longitude felt like a maddening mathematical language I'd never master, and I didn't believe that Jaclyn or I would have the stamina and resilience to handle potential crises. (I live in Brooklyn! I don't even have a car!) Instead of bonding with the other participants, I disappeared into my tent, clutching my iPhone for comfort. Miller stopped by: "You okay?" she called from outside my tent. "Yeah," I squeaked. "Just tired." This is going to be a disaster, I told myself. You didn't think this through.

Mood for most of the week.

Rebelle Rally

I was certain the rally would bring out my worst self. I'd be a dehydrated raw bundle of neuroses, throwing my helmet in the dust and indulging in nonstop Carrie Mathison-like angry-crying. I spent the month before the rally nursing a never-ending migraine, holing up at home ruminating on my certain failure, and having bouts of ill-advised anxiety sex with a highly inappropriate partner I thought I'd successfully sworn off months before.

"It's only overwhelming because you've never done it before," my mother, always a voice of reason, said. "Once you're there, you'll get in the swing of it. You'll be fine. You always are."


The rally began on a Saturday morning in early October, but Jaclyn and I arrived in Lake Tahoe—bright and sunny and permeated with the smell of pine—on Tuesday night to prepare. Buying our required provisions took an entire day: We'd need a five-gallon jug of water, emergency blankets, a fire extinguisher, first aid kits, food to last at least five days (in case something went terribly awry), a laundry list of auto supplies, and helmets—required for safety's sake whenever we were on the Rebelle course—that squished our faces into chipmunk-cheek blobs. Thursday was "technical inspection," during which rally staffers ensured each vehicle was properly equipped. On Friday afternoon, all 36 teams caravanned out to our first base camp, a sprawling settlement a few hours east of Lake Tahoe, with a vehicle impound, a maintenance tent and gas refill area, a food truck manned by a Michelin-starred chef, and the main gathering space—a shelter filled with tables and butterfly chairs, decorated with gauzy curtains and wildflowers.

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Miller briefs competitors; a green checkpoint on the course; Rebelle cars on a dry lake bed in California.

Paolo Baraldi; Whitney Joiner; Nicole Dreon

I woke on Saturday at 4:30 a.m. and launched into what would become my daily routine: wiggling into my Rebelle uniform (sports bra, tank top, long-sleeved shirt, hiking pants, lace-up canvas boots), rushing to the portable bathrooms to brush my teeth and splash water on my face; running back to pack up camp. While I dragged our gear down to the Jeep, Jaclyn picked up the day's list of coordinates and started plotting. I joined her under the main tent, staring helplessly down at the table where she'd spread the coordinate list, colored pencils, and distance-measuring rulers.

We experienced the singular thrill of spotting a green checkpoint: a mix of relief, pride, and elation that never got old.

Jaclyn understood latitude and longitude in a way I didn't, so it was obvious that she'd be the navigator, while I'd drive. We crept up to the starting line, my heart beating wildly from nerves, and waited to be let loose into the desert. (To discourage blindly following other competitors, teams were given different sets of checkpoints, and cars set off at two-minute intervals.)

"Turn left," Jaclyn said once we set off. "Our first checkpoint should be in 13 miles." A few minutes later, we experienced the singular thrill of spotting a green checkpoint for the first time: a mix of relief, pride, and elation that never got old.

Jaclyn in a Nevada ghost town, planning our next move.

Nicole Dreon

Later that afternoon, after meandering through a maze of dirt roads, we turned into a wide canyon, shot through with dry washes (empty creek beds that can easily be mistaken for trails or roads). "Should we be in four-wheel drive?" Jaclyn asked. Four-wheel drive gives you extra traction; it's used for rougher, rockier terrain. I felt silly for still being in 2WD—the everyday, highway-driving gear—and jerked the gear shaft up. We slowly rambled through the canyon down to a lake, where we found our final green checkpoint of the day.

We hit our tracker—sending our coordinates to staff at base camp, who monitored each vehicle, just blinking blips, on a GPS system—then realized that we'd fallen behind the other competitors. We could only see one team, off in the distance in a huge pickup. We watched as they scaled an incline effortlessly, as if filming a car commercial.

"If they can do it, so can we," I said, hitting the accelerator and heading up the incline. Within 30 seconds, our tires started to spin. Day one, and we were already stuck. We grabbed shovels from the back of the Jeep and started clearing dirt from underneath the tires. Nearby, a rally staffer pulled up in a pickup.

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"Are you in four-wheel drive?" he asked.

"Of course," I answered.

"You sure?" he said. "I'm not supposed to help you, but…you might want to check."

We climbed back inside the Jeep: the gear shift looked likeit was in the right place. Jaclyn pulled the manual out of the glove compartment. "It says we should see a 4WD light on the dashboard. Do you see it?"

"Oh," I said. "No." Hours spent crawling over boulders and sharp rocks, and we'd been in the wrong gear the whole time, an embarrassingly amateur mistake. We pledged not to tell anyone back at base camp.

Day One: stuck. (I promise this was steep IRL.)

Paolo Baraldi


By day four, we'd improved dramatically. We knew when we were and weren't in four-wheel drive. We knew that our odometer was off, making precise calculations nearly impossible—a significant drawback. And we knew that spotting a particular road on our topo map didn't mean we could match it to one on the ground. What looked like a road on the map could be a dry wash; what looked like a dry wash on the ground could be a road. We constantly scouted the horizon for dust clouds, knowing they'd be from Rebelle cars, a sign that we were on the right track.

Then came our accidental vision quest in the Mojave, when we'd drifted so far off-course that we hadn't seen a friendly dust cloud for hours.

After mainlining the energy chews, we got out of the Jeep to scout. Jaclyn jumped on the hood to survey our surroundings; I took off by foot. A railroad crossed in front of us, with a steep drop-off underneath. We were definitely stuck.

Then I saw it: a campsite, off in the distance, across a weedy wash. Trucks! People! A dog! Life!

I found Mojave River Campgroundin miniscule print in the lower left-hand corner of the map. So that's where we were. "If we can get to that campground, we could find our way to the highway," I said. It wasn't our designated route back to base camp, but the sun was dropping by the minute.

The weedy wash was actually the Mojave River, according to the map. It wasn't a river so much as a morass of swampy vegetation with a lone, murky crossing. Back home in Brooklyn, in my haste to somewhat prepare, I'd watched a YouTube video of a Jeep wading through water. I knew it was possible; I just didn't know if I could do it. "No way," Jaclyn said. "We're not going to drown here."

"What if it's easier than it looks?" I argued.

Jaclyn thought for a minute. "What would Emily do?" she asked. Miller is a 5'1" blond powerhouse who gave decidedly non-cheesy pep talks every night that sometimes brought me to tears. I'd never met anyone who inspired such devotion and admiration, who made you want to succeed just to tell her you had. "If this was easy, everyone would do it," she told us repeatedly, and we felt like intrepid, ground-breaking explorers.

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Miller encouraged calculated risks. "Emily would try it," I said. "But I think she'd check the depth first."

I stripped off my boots, socks, and pants. In just a tank top and underwear, I splashed into the crossing, mud squishing beneath my toes. The water quickly came up past my knees. I pictured the Jeep filling up with contaminated river sludge while Jaclyn and I popped Klonopin and prayed that the satellite phone actually worked.

"If this was easy, everyone would do it," the Rebelle's founder told us repeatedly, and we felt like intrepid, ground-breaking explorers.

Okay, so we weren't going to ford the mighty Mojave. But at least now we knew where we were. (Another favorite Emily saying: "You're never as lost as you think you are.") From the map, the highway back to base camp was vaguely northeast; if we headed that direction, we'd surely find a way onto the road.

Two interminable hours later, we saw what we'd been looking for all afternoon: the day's final green flag, and behind it, the entrance to the highway. Our euphoric shouts were especially hard-earned this time. As we approached the highway, a car pulled up alongside us. "Thank God!" Shelley, a rally staffer, yelled out from the passenger seat of a broken-down '80s Jeep. "We found you!" Apparently, the staff back at base camp monitoring our blinking blip had become concerned: Where are they going?

"We thought we'd have to rescue you," her husband, Big Rich, called from the driver's seat. "But look: You rescued yourselves."

On the face of it, the day was a complete throwaway. Zero points. But we'd found our way out of the canyon, completely on our own.


My month-long pre-rally panic, while overblown and unsubstantiated in retrospect, served a purpose: It burned out all my anxiety, leaving none for the actual rally. The meltdowns never came. I never threw my helmet in frustration. I didn't angry-cry nonstop. Jaclyn and I each had one brief tearful moment after making a dumb mistake—hers on day five; mine on day six—but we immediately pulled it together.

Rebelle Rally

As usual, my mother was right. Once I was forced to practice my fledgling skills, my fear melted away, replaced by an unabashed excitement that at times bordered on euphoria. Every moment brought something new: a stunning vista, a mountain pass, an abandoned ghost town, an expansive mesa. The entire course was on government property; these same roads were open to anyone. But they're rarely used, and it felt like we were seeing an America many never do, one hidden in plain sight.

I started to trust the Jeep more, and Jaclyn, and myself. One day we were caravanning along a high ridge outside of Joshua Tree, with steep drop-offs and hairpin turns. Wait! I thought, halfway through. I should be scared. If I turn the steering wheel just slightly, we'll sail off.I felt my stomach drop and panic rise up in my chest. But just as quickly, I reeled it back in. Don't let fear take over, I coached myself. You can stop it."You're already way more confident," Jaclyn noted as we dipped and swerved. "If we'd been on this road the first day, you would've freaked out the whole time. Now you're just trucking along."

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We were too clueless to be embarrassed about how little we knew.

I'd been so intimidated by the other competitors' credentials before the rally began, but now our lack of experience felt almost freeing. The rally was so out of our league that I was constantly astonished we were doing it at all. How we looked to anyone else didn't matter. We'd ask other Rebelles basic car-maintenance questions, knowing our queries probably sounded elementary. (Only one woman looked at us in disdain after we'd asked for her help installing high neon flags required for dune driving: "You actually don't know how to do this?" she spat. "Why are you even here?") We were too clueless to be embarrassed about how little we knew.

Every night, when the scores for the day were posted, we'd land in the bottom four. But we thought we were champions.

All week, the experienced competitors were itching for the final day, when we'd be competing in sand dunes—notoriously difficult to navigate. We woke up that last morning in California's Imperial Sand Dunes (where Return of the Jedi was partially filmed) to a blazing sun, a high in the 90s, and a range of shimmering white sand mountains towering over base camp.

I didn't feel particularly ambitious about the dunes, but Jaclyn wanted to attempt some final point-collecting. We caravanned with a few competitors, helping each other find the safest routes, then ate lunch around a green checkpoint, sitting in the shade cast by our vehicles. It was our last green of the rally.

But when I stood up, I saw the top of a blue flag in the recess of a group of dunes to the south. I nudged Jaclyn: "Let's try it."

Dunes: gorgeous and terrifying.

Paolo Baraldi

We carefully coasted down into the dune's recess by circling the perimeter, as we'd been taught, and clicked our tracker for the last time. The incline we'd just descended looked much higher than I expected, but it was still the easiest way out. I backed up a few feet to give us a running start, then slammed down the accelerator. Halfway up the incline, we felt our wheels spin, digging us into the sand below. We frantically tried to dig out, but as soon as we cleared a space, new sand spilled in.

Two of the Rebelles we'd teamed up with, Sedona and Maria, flew down into the recess, clicked their tracker at the blue flag, and zipped up the incline past us with no trouble. They parked on the dune's crest, then ran down to help dig us out. Finally we had enough room behind our back tires to position our MaxTrax, a pair of ridged, snowshoe-shaped rescue tools, behind our back tires. Slowly, carefully, we eased off the sand and onto the MaxTrax.

Many of my pre-rally fears came true. But I found an intoxicating freedom in taking on a challenge just to take it on, without expecting conventional success.

Sedona pointed out the angle she'd taken: "Back up even more, then punch the accelerator harder," she suggested.

I'd driven for 90 percent of the rally, but I didn't want to attempt the incline again. "I'm scared," I told Jaclyn.

We switched places and she revved the accelerator. Miraculously, she caught enough power to follow Sedona's route. We landed on top of the dune, tumbled out of the Jeep, and grabbed Sedona and Maria for a hug, jumping up and down, triumphant.

In the end, we tied for 29th place, fourth-to-last. And many of my pre-rally fears came true: We made careless mistakes and incorrect calculations; we were lost more often than not; we didn't know what we were doing most of the time. I just didn't react the way I'd assumed I would. Instead, I found an intoxicating freedom in being a complete novice, taking on a challenge just to take it on, without expecting conventional success. I'd never been more exhilarated to fail.

Finish-line euphoria.

Nicole Dreon

The second annual Rebelle Rally will be held from October 12-21, 2017. If you're interested in competing, find more information here.