Site search
sponsored by
Home
News
ENLARGE
Jordan Fisher Smith
By telling a story he could never shake from his mind, a former state parks ranger helped keep alive the mystery of the disappearance of Janet Kovacich 24 years ago.
On Thursday, her husband, Paul R. Kovacich Jr., was arraigned in Placer County Superior Court on charges he murdered his wife, the mother of his two young children.
Jordan Fisher Smith was a California Parks and Recreation Department ranger and for 14 years worked in the American River canyon area where police suspected Janet Kovacich's body had been dumped.
At one point, police asked Smith to apply his knowledge of the lawless, wild-and-woolly canyonlands to their search - to no avail.
"My role in the investigation was tiny," said Smith, who has since retired from the Parks Department. "My real role was as a writer, to bring this story out into the open."
Writer knew the accused
On Thursday, her husband, Paul R. Kovacich Jr., was arraigned in Placer County Superior Court on charges he murdered his wife, the mother of his two young children.
Jordan Fisher Smith was a California Parks and Recreation Department ranger and for 14 years worked in the American River canyon area where police suspected Janet Kovacich's body had been dumped.
At one point, police asked Smith to apply his knowledge of the lawless, wild-and-woolly canyonlands to their search - to no avail.
"My role in the investigation was tiny," said Smith, who has since retired from the Parks Department. "My real role was as a writer, to bring this story out into the open."
Writer knew the accused
Smith had gotten to know Kovacich personally. Like others in Auburn-area law enforcement, every time Smith arrested somebody, he took them to the Placer County jail. There, Sgt. Kovacich handled the booking.
In court Thursday, Smith recalled Kovacich as being a "rather cold individual."
"He had an unexpressive face," Smith said. "He didn't show a trace of any emotion."
Everyone knew about the case involving Kovacich's missing wife. Early in the investigation, police had started looking at Kovacich as a "person of interest" but could glean no evidence. The case came to be spoken of in whispers; it had become taboo, Smith told The Union on Thursday.
By the time Auburn police asked Smith to help them search the American River canyon area just below the Kovacich home, four years had passed.
"There was a deep sense of failure and shame among law enforcement about not being able to prosecute the perpetrator," Smith recalled.
He said law enforcement officers took it personally.
"We don't want to believe someone like us could do something like this," he said in court Thursday. "We hold ourselves to a higher standard."
In court Thursday, Smith recalled Kovacich as being a "rather cold individual."
"He had an unexpressive face," Smith said. "He didn't show a trace of any emotion."
Everyone knew about the case involving Kovacich's missing wife. Early in the investigation, police had started looking at Kovacich as a "person of interest" but could glean no evidence. The case came to be spoken of in whispers; it had become taboo, Smith told The Union on Thursday.
By the time Auburn police asked Smith to help them search the American River canyon area just below the Kovacich home, four years had passed.
"There was a deep sense of failure and shame among law enforcement about not being able to prosecute the perpetrator," Smith recalled.
He said law enforcement officers took it personally.
"We don't want to believe someone like us could do something like this," he said in court Thursday. "We hold ourselves to a higher standard."
As the years turned to decades, police kept working on the case but were never able to nail it down.
Smith watched as people on the case retired or passed away. It dawned on him: The next generation of local law enforcement would know nothing of Janet Kovacich.
"By writing this story, I would preserve it for the memories of the people in town until it could be handled by a younger generation," Smith said. As it turned out, that generation has better forensic technology and a better understanding of the psychology surrounding domestic violence.
"My role was as a writer was to bring this story out into the open so people could move forward in the investigation," he said. "I knew somebody somewhere had something they needed to say."
The publishing of "Nature Noir" in early 2005 appeared to open a doorway through the whispers. The book recounts the history of the canyonlands as it relates to a 1965 federal project to build the Auburn Dam and the geological and political forces surrounding its rise and demise.
In the chapter of "Nature Noir" where Smith discussed the Kovacich case, he had changed the names of the Kovaciches to Les and Karen Dellasandro. Everything else, Smith said, is based on what he learned from police and read in law enforcement reports.
In that chapter, Smith described how Janet Kovacich, shortly before she disappeared, had told a loved one how her husband had kicked and beaten their German shepherd dog, Fuzz, into a coma. The animal died at the veterinarian's office the next day.
Smith watched as people on the case retired or passed away. It dawned on him: The next generation of local law enforcement would know nothing of Janet Kovacich.
"By writing this story, I would preserve it for the memories of the people in town until it could be handled by a younger generation," Smith said. As it turned out, that generation has better forensic technology and a better understanding of the psychology surrounding domestic violence.
"My role was as a writer was to bring this story out into the open so people could move forward in the investigation," he said. "I knew somebody somewhere had something they needed to say."
The publishing of "Nature Noir" in early 2005 appeared to open a doorway through the whispers. The book recounts the history of the canyonlands as it relates to a 1965 federal project to build the Auburn Dam and the geological and political forces surrounding its rise and demise.
In the chapter of "Nature Noir" where Smith discussed the Kovacich case, he had changed the names of the Kovaciches to Les and Karen Dellasandro. Everything else, Smith said, is based on what he learned from police and read in law enforcement reports.
In that chapter, Smith described how Janet Kovacich, shortly before she disappeared, had told a loved one how her husband had kicked and beaten their German shepherd dog, Fuzz, into a coma. The animal died at the veterinarian's office the next day.
Smith writes:
"When detectives went to Les's father's place looking for signs of Karen (shortly after her disappearance), they found a smallish mound of fresh earth on his property. Les's father told them that it was Fuzz's grave and that it contained a blood-soaked quilt the animal had been wrapped in when it was brought there. ... The police did not dig it up."
The book received prominent reviews in the New York Times, the San Francisco Chronicle and the San Diego Union-Tribune in February 2005.
By March 2 of that year, search warrants had been issued. Police and agents from the FBI were digging in the Lake of the Pines yard of Paul Kovacich Sr.
There, they found the broken bones of Fuzz.
It remains unclear why police took another 18 months to make an arrest.
ooo
Staff writer Robyn Moormeister contributed to this story. To contact Staff Writer Trina Kleist, e-mail trinak@theunion.com or call 477-4231.
"When detectives went to Les's father's place looking for signs of Karen (shortly after her disappearance), they found a smallish mound of fresh earth on his property. Les's father told them that it was Fuzz's grave and that it contained a blood-soaked quilt the animal had been wrapped in when it was brought there. ... The police did not dig it up."
The book received prominent reviews in the New York Times, the San Francisco Chronicle and the San Diego Union-Tribune in February 2005.
By March 2 of that year, search warrants had been issued. Police and agents from the FBI were digging in the Lake of the Pines yard of Paul Kovacich Sr.
There, they found the broken bones of Fuzz.
It remains unclear why police took another 18 months to make an arrest.
ooo
Staff writer Robyn Moormeister contributed to this story. To contact Staff Writer Trina Kleist, e-mail trinak@theunion.com or call 477-4231.
