THE FUGITIVE SON

Nine years ago, charged with the rape of two teenage girls, Darien golden boy Alex Kelly disappeared into the glamorous playgrounds of Europe, with the F.B.I. and a bounty hunter on his trail as he skied at Chamonix and windsurfed in Sweden. In the wake of Kelly's surrender last January, JENNET CONANT dissects the terrible dilemma of his wealthy, prominent parents as their prodigal son finally goes on trial

JENNET CONANT

He looks so sure. His smile is wide, the easy, careless grin of a teenager. He is good-looking, clean-cut despite the dusting of stubble on his chin—the proud badge of manhood of most boys his age. He is standing very straight, and though his 155-pound, five-foot-nine-inch frame appears slight, it is easy to see why his coach says he often overpowers larger opponents. Smiling for the camera, he is brimming with confidence. On February 6, 1986, Alex Kelly—18-year-old honor student, football star, and co-captain of the Darien High wrestling teamgot his picture in his hometown paper. It is this image which has haunted the town for nearly a decade.

By Darien standards, Alex Kelly couldn't have been more typical. He was an outgoing and personable kid whose parents are well known in their wealthy Connecticut suburb. His father, Joe Kelly, 54 now, is a strong, brooding man who built his contracting business from nothing. His attractive blonde mother, Melanie, also 54, volunteers with the Junior League. The Kellys have lived in Darien for more than 30 years. Their lovely yellow house is set back on several acres on Christie Hill Road, and they own a substantial amount of local real estate with a net value estimated in the millions.

In the article which accompanied the photograph of Alex Kelly, he is described as a success story who maintained an undefeated wrestling record, earned Aminus grades, and broke the "magic 1,000 mark" on his S.A.T.'s. An admiring classmate called Alex "a model student-athlete." The drug dependency that had sidelined him during an earlier season rates only a brief mention. No doubt Alex's high-school wrestling coach and English teacher, Jeff Bouvier— who wrote the story for the Darien News-Review—was hoping that this problem was far behind his protege.

Not every town could so easily embrace a high-school student who had been sentenced to four months of rehabilitation for an alleged cocaine habit financed by the theft of a reported $100,000 worth of property from neighboring homes during his junior year. But Darien, one of the most exclusive residential communities in the country since the 1950s, is blessed with magnanimity, and so much more: country clubs, rolling green estates, an enviable public-school system, and a disproportionately high number of representatives in Who's Who. A corporate haven just minutes from Stamford and 38 miles northeast of Manhattan, Darien is home to wealthy executives, such as retired IBM chairman Frank Cary. Also in residence is the writer Anne Morrow Lindbergh, who lived on Contentment Island with her late husband in the era when the members-only attitude that once characterized Darien was broached in Gentleman's Agreement. The 1947 film dramatized the kind of unwritten covenant that once prohibited real-estate sales to Jews. While Darien is no longer a closed community in this sense, it remains rich, white, and reticent.

Alex Kelly's "problem," as it was primly described in the article, is hardly unusual here. Fairfield County has always been known regionally for drinking of the Cheeveresque, pool-hopping variety. In the 60s, the town's reputation was blackened after an incident in which two teenagers were killed driving home from a party where some local parents had served alcohol. Drugs have now replaced booze as inevitably as Jeep Wagoneers have supplanted the old woodies that once met the six o'clock train from the city. But the town has usually managed to keep these matters private, like the stately homes secreted behind the ancient oaks.

The glowing story on Alex Kelly's wrestling j ¶ comeback was just days old on February f 1 20, 1986, when the high-school star made the papers again. This time, Alex Kelly was charged with raping two teenage girls in two separate and equally brutal incidents, on February 10 and 14. AcH cording to the sketchy details provided -— by the police, both attacks took place in cars. The first victim, a 16-year-old Darien girl, did not immediately file charges. The second, a 17-year-old girl from Stamford, filed a police complaint saying she was assaulted by Kelly in Darien at about one A.M. on Friday, February 14, Valentine's Day.

Kelly was arrested at 10 A.M. that morning as he drove away from his house. The officers in charge, Darien detective Ronald Bussell and lieutenant Hugh McManus, were investigating the incident involving the Darien girl. Kelly, in red sweater and gray slacks, was arraigned in Stamford Superior Court five days later. He pleaded "not guilty" to two counts of first-degree sexual assault and one each of unlawful restraint and threatening. He was also charged with, and pleaded "not guilty" to, the first rape—as well as possession of marijuana and violation of probation.

Before his arrest, Kelly had been on his way to the school bus which was taking Darien High's wrestling team to its championship meet, the Fairfield County Interscholastic Athletic Conference in Wilton, Connecticut. The night before, the F.C.I.A.C. coaches had seeded Kelly first in his weight class. His trademark move was called the "guillotine."

"The coaches were all just in awe of him," says Jeff Bouvier, sounding almost wistful. "Wrestling is one of the most demanding sports, and some people approach it intellectually, and some people on a more primal level. Alex was more the latter."

The case will indict the town. "The media has come to

When Kelly failed to show for the meet, Bouvier was forced to forfeit the match. He was furious—until a reporter informed him of the arrest. After the tournament, he stopped by the Kelly home and heard what had happened from Joe Kelly. "I'll never forget the look on Mr. Kelly's face that night," Bouvier recalls. "He was really heartbroken."

"The Kellys have never taken this any way except to their hearts," says Michael "Mickey" Sherman, the ambitious Stamford lawyer retained following Alex's arrest. After talking to Alex, Sherman found his version of events credible. "He said it was consensual sex. He was upset and concerned. He was more in tune with everything that was going on than most young people his age would have been."

When Kelly missed the weigh-in before the competition, some of his teammates thought he had probably gotten high and blown off the meet. Still, many of his fellow athletes were shocked and thought the arrest a terrible mistake. A lot of Kelly's friends resented the lurid connection that was being made between his athletic ability and the accusation of rape. "Because Alex wrestled with such determination, he outclassed people," says his teammate John Risley, who was a close friend. "He was a very competitive kid, but he didn't have a mean streak in him."

In the weeks following Kelly's arrest, Darien students and parents debated whether the handsome boy who had gotten his picture in the paper was capable of rape. Or whether two girls could have somehow invited this kind of trouble. To most, it seemed unthinkable that Kelly, the coolest kid at Darien High, could commit rape. Why? He was always surrounded by admiring girls, and for the past several months he had been going out with Amy Molitar, a beautiful blonde in the class below him. Many also wondered why the girls had been allowed to stay out so late on school nights. Both alleged rapes followed teenage drinking parties where drugs were also most likely present. Where were their parents? From Post Corner Pizza to the Darien Sport Shop, where, since grade school, Alex Kelly and his two brothers had been outfitted in blue blazers and khakis, Darien mulled it over.

Although almost no information about the alleged attacks was released by the police, details quickly circulated. The Darien girl was from a well-to-do family and knew Kelly both as a close neighbor and from school. Her older sister was in his class. She told police that she had been hesitant about reporting the assault because Alex had threatened to hurt her if she told anyone. When her father found out what had happened, he informed Joe Kelly that his daughter would press charges.

After spending 17 days in jail, Alex Kelly was freed on a $200,000 bond, which his parents raised by putting up their house, then valued at more than $450,000, as collateral. Although many people in town were inclined to give Kelly the benefit of the doubt, the school asked his parents to keep him home. The victim told friends she was terrified of running into him. Yet, insisting on his innocence, Kelly returned. Velma Saire, a former principal of Darien High School, told a local paper, "He came back once not long afterwards and walked into the cafeteria when the sister of one of the alleged victims was having lunch. She freaked out."

Stories about the alleged rapes and Kelly's past record were splashed all over the Connecticut papers. Before Kelly was released from jail, Assistant State's Attorney Bruce Hudock upgraded two counts of unlawful restraint to two counts of first-degree kidnapping, which carry a maximum jail term of 50 years. He also alleged in court that Kelly had choked the two victims during what he described as "brutal assaults." Despite the Kellys' popularity, people began to whisper that there were problems on Christie Hill Road. Although Joe Kelly was rumored to be a tough father who held his three sons to high standards, all the boys disappointed him. Alex's older brother, Chris, was said to be a heavy user of recreational drugs who introduced the younger boy to a fast crowd at an early age. According to friends, all three Kelly boys were "wild." As the seriousness of the alleged crimes sank in, community pressure to keep Kelly from returning to Darien High increased. School officials decided they could not wait for the courts to determine Kelly's guilt or innocence. They immediately suspended him for 10 days and, after examining his record, voted to award him his diploma early. "He's got a big enough black cloud hanging over his head," Melanie Kelly pleaded. "To further stigmatize him would be overwhelming." But the school board would not relent.

bury Darien, not praise her," noted a caller to "Dial Darien."

Evidence included some underwear and a "sweater with a light- colored deer on the front."

For Kelly, life had become almost unbearable. People were afraid to come near him. Detective Bussell, who had busted Kelly for the burglaries back in 1984, was said to be angry with himself for not throwing him in jail after the first rape allegation. According to Mickey Sherman, the Darien police "followed Alex all the time after the rapes." As a result, Sherman asked for permission to allow Kelly to take a job in Colorado until the trial started. Kelly had turned down a plea-bargain offer of 20 years in jail, and instead chose a jury, risking a maximum sentence of more than a hundred years if convicted on all the charges. Since his case would not be heard until after the New Year, Hudock agreed that it was "better for his victims" if Kelly left for a few months.

Late that fall, Kelly moved to Leadville, Colorado, not far from Aspen. He rented an apartment, got a job in a local fast-food restaurant, and spent most of his free time on the slopes. An expert skier and snowboarder, Kelly had been accepted to three Colorado colleges.

Just before he was scheduled to stand trial, Kelly's parents joined him for a vacation. Sherman, who was on a skiing holiday in Vail, met with the family at their condo on February 12 to discuss the suspect's testimony.

Kelly had been planning to take the stand and tell his side of the story. But he suffered a devastating setback when the court rejected a defense motion to consider the two incidents in separate trials. Sherman had even hired an independent market-research firm to prove that a majority of people would be more likely to believe in Kelly's guilt if presented with two rape cases together. But Sherman was overruled. According to the judge's memorandum, the cases were consolidated in the interest of the "economy and expedition" of the judicial system.

"His parents were angry, as was I, that the system was being manipulated in this fashion," recalls Sherman, who says Kelly appeared "depressed" and "apprehensive." "Alex was afraid he couldn't get a fair trial unless the cases were separated, that it would be two against one."

At the end of the family holiday, Melanie and Joe Kelly said good-bye to their son at Denver's Stapleton International Airport. Alex, who had booked a separate ticket, was to follow on a later plane that same evening. At least, that was what they told the authorities. Because on Sunday night, February 15, 1987, Alex Kelly disappeared without a trace.

When Michael Sherman showed up at court on February 18 to begin jury selection, his client wasn't there. Judge Martin Nigro called a recess until two P.M., but the time came and went. At 2:30, the court revoked Kelly's bail.

"Hysteria broke out when he skipped," says Sherman. "A zillion people called. People became obsessed." There was a nationwide search, but the F.B.I. lost Kelly's trail. The television show America's Most Wanted devoted a segment to the case, including a sensational re-enactment of one of the alleged rapes. It was featured a total of four times.

There were wild rumors and periodic "Elvis sightings," with Kelly reportedly turning up at a party. Or a Dead concert. Emotions ran so high that Connecticut governor William O'Neill offered a $20,000 reward for information leading to Kelly's arrest, a highly unusual move in a rape case. All that did was attract the interest of a bounty hunter who followed Michael Sherman for several weeks. Finally, Sherman started introducing this pursuer to friends at restaurants.

In the end, the Kellys paid $140,000 in cash to cover the bail bond, and managed to keep their Darien home. They maintained that they had not heard from their son and did not know where he was. Sherman pleaded with the judge not to penalize the parents. "This is a young man who has lived here all his life," Sherman said. "His roots are here. . . . There is a strong likelihood he will come back."

In the meantime, Darien residents were left to consider some disquieting questions about Alex Kelly. What would they have done if he had been their son? Would they have "crossed the line," as one local resident put it, to help him escape?

ight years after Kelly's disappearance, on a snowy afternoon last February, I was standing in the kitchen of Mickey Sherman's North Stamford home, dubbed "Felony Manor" and "Casa Criminale" by his colleagues. Judging by the swimming pool and tennis court out back, he has won many cases since Alex Kel-ly's no-show in court. But now Kelly was back.

Just a few weeks earlier, on January 19, after easily evading the F.B.I. and Interpol as he moved among the ski resorts of Europe, Alex Kelly—now 27—had surrendered to Zurich police.

"I always felt that when he was ready he would turn himself in," says Sherman. When he speaks about Kelly, he sounds weary, even pained. He became fond of the parents and feels for their predicament, which had grown more complicated in the period before their son's surrender.

Six months earlier, in July of 1994, a raid by police officers and F.B.I. agents on the yellow house on Christie Hill Road and a search of Joe and Melanie Kelly's Union Trust safe-deposit box had turned up bankbooks, receipts, letters, and photos showing that the parents had known their son's whereabouts. They had even visited him in Europe. Authorities considered the idea of prosecuting them for aiding and abetting a fugitive.

Sherman also knew that the Kellys had already lost one son and did not want to lose another. As a teenager, Chris Kelly was permanently crippled in a car accident. In 1991, while Alex was on the run, Chris died after a drug overdose.

Sherman is cagey about the cirM ¶ cumstances leading to Kelly's 1 decision to come in from the cold; he is no longer his lawyer. After the F.B.I. raid, the fam. ily retained Thomas Puccio, a Y V prominent New York litigaW tor who had once defended Claus von Biilow. But Sherman dismisses the notion that the F.B.I. was about to close in on his former client. While the July raid on the Kelly home did turn up an address on an island off the coast of Sweden, the authorities missed apprehending Kelly. (His parents allegedly tipped him off.) Sherman does not believe that the F.B.I. ever would have caught up with him. He points out that Kelly was stopped by a German border guard in 1989, but managed to bluff his way through before Interpol arrived. "Alex is a bright, enterprising kid," Sherman says with a shrug. "Look, most parents don't think their kid can make it back from McDonald's in one piece. Alex was a fugitive from justice for eight years. They never would have got him."

One thing is certain. Kelly's moves were carefully planned and well financed. In fact, before his surrender, he met with Puccio at an undisclosed European location for a discussion of how he could best return home and stand trial. It was no accident that Alex Kelly surfaced in Zurich: Kelly was clearly attempting to save himself from extra charges by exploiting loopholes in Switzerland's antiquated extradition treaty with the U.S.

On the advice of his new lawyer, Kelly agreed to be returned to Connecticut to face the sexual-assault charges, but continued to fight several other charges, including kidnapping and the failure to appear in court.

"We never let it go," confirms Bruce Hudock, the big, amiable, and very determined Stamford prosecutor who, after Kelly's 1987 disappearance, vowed, "I, for one, am not going to let the case die."

"Nobody forgot about it," Hudock tells me. "It's the same folks. Nobody left. Nobody offered me a better job. This office looks just the same as it did eight years ago," he says, gesturing at his small, dim cubbyhole, with its fake pine paneling and aging jade plant. "People say, 'Wow, you hung in there for eight years.' Well, that's my job," he emphasizes with mock gravitas. "Now, do you want me to pose naked on the cover of the magazine?"

Half Irish and half Czech, Hudock is a passionate advocate, and one senses just how much he relishes going after the golden boy of Darien. "If both Bruce's legs were broken, he'd come in on a gurney to try this case," says Sherman. "He has a huge desire to win. He became very close to the victims."

Hudock doesn't dispute that. "This is a case where the victims are entitled to be heard," he says, with passion. "Alex Kelly's deprived them of that opportunity for eight years, and in cases like theirs, it is especially important. They want to be able to tell their story. They want justice."

According to Hudock, both victims, whose identities are still unknown to many people in Darien and Stamford, are ready and willing to take the stand and testify against the boy who they say destroyed their lives almost a decade ago. He won't comment on how many other witnesses are still around to support their claims.

Later, Hudock tells me that he will not bring charges against Melanie or Joe Kelly, even though the application for the warrant for the F.B.I. raid suggests the former helped her son avoid authorities through her work as a travel agent, which would have allowed her to book international flights using a variety of false names. There is also evidence that the Kellys gave their son $10,000 before he disappeared and that Melanie Kelly was trying to get him access to a $600,000 trust fund before his 21st birthday. During the raid, an unmailed letter meant for Kelly was found in her handbag. Authorities believe she has been the driving force behind her son's disappearance and return. (Puccio had no comment.) Hudock declines to elaborate on his reasons for not prosecuting the parents, but notes in a later conversation the difficulty of trying "a blood relative for something each and every juror would look into their own hearts and think about what they might do under similar circumstances."

Local sentiment is certainly in favor of forgiving the parents. Shortly after Kelly turned himself in, a story about what people in town viewed as the Kellys' tragedy ran in the Stamford Advocate. It reported one citizen saying that "the Kellys had it tough," and characterized townsfolk as "supportive of Darien family." The story brought a quick and ferocious response from David Golub, the lawyer for the 16-year-old Darien victim, who has remained silent all these years. "The article said that the Kelly family had it tough and why was the state bothering to prosecute this case," he emphasizes. "It said, after all these years, leave them alone. It was stunning."

He notes that Kelly was the one who dragged out the case and that the two victims had lived a third of their lives with this hanging over their heads. My client "had to continually remember and be reminded of it and relive it," he told The New York Times. "Everyone should understand this was not a date-rape-type rape; this was a nasty, violent rape. ... He made threats on her life."

Golub feels that the sentiment expressed in the article was so "inappropriate" he had to speak out on his client's behalf. "She just wanted us to respond to the Advocate article," he says, adding that all the more galling is the fact that Kelly has been living the high life. "It's not just the ski slopes and scuba diving," he says with disgust. "It's Sweden . . . and his parents funneling him money."

This particular skirmish brought only a resounding silence from Kelly's new lawyer. In a freak accident just weeks after Kelly's surrender, Thomas Puccio's 16-yearold son was killed when he lost control of his father's car. It happened during a Sunday-morning driving lesson, when the boy accidentally stepped on the accelerator instead of the brake. Puccio was unable to save his only child. Few believed he would stay on the Kelly case. Then, unexpectedly, the lawyer who had lost his son went back to work, redoubling his efforts for the son the Kellys cannot bear to lose.

One girl charges that Alex Kelly threatened to kill her

When Kelly stepped off the Swissair plane and onto American soil last May, he looked as if he had walked right out of a Ralph Lauren ad. He was dressed in a red plaid button-down shirt, khaki pants, and brown hiking shoes. His preppy appearance had changed so little that one onlooker at court the following day quipped, "I guess you can take the boy out of Darien, but you can't take Darien out of the boy."

Kelly had become a celebrity of sorts. Between reward money and the wanted posters—lurid ARMED AND DANGEROUS bills bearing his mug shot—Alex Kelly's name is better known to most in the area than that of their local congressman, according to a survey commissioned by the defense. His homecoming was a community event. As flashbulbs popped, Kelly was escorted off the plane by Detective Bussell, the Darien cop who had waited nine years to bring Kelly to justice. The state had spent the money to send the officer to Switzerland so he could personally bring home his boy. When asked by reporters how it felt to be back, Kelly, who had grinned nervously at the cameras as he arrived, shook his head and replied, "I don't know, I don't know."

The following day, as a horde of photographers jockeyed for position on the walkway between the courthouse and the Stamford jail, Kelly was taken to his bond hearing handcuffed and shackled. He turned briefly when some spectators shouted "Pervert" and "Why did you do it?" But he registered no identifiable emotion. Once inside, he pleaded "not guilty" to the five charges now leveled against him—three counts of first-degree sexual assault and two counts of first-degree kidnapping, in accordance with the extradition agreement. He faces more than a hundred years in prison if convicted on all the charges.

At the hearing, Hudock asked for a $2 million cash bond, arguing that Kelly would not have returned if the F.B.I. had not raided his parents' home. He charged that Kelly was trying to become a permanent resident of Europe, and presented six photos of Kelly with his parents at cafes in Europe and mountain climbing. He displayed three letters Kelly had written to Joe and Melanie describing his life on the run. He also produced Kelly's passport, which bears the stamps of 15 countries—from Egypt, the Netherlands, Italy, Turkey, the former Yugoslavia, and Greece to Spain, Portugal, and India. "You covered a lot of ground," the judge commented.

Alex Kelly's grand tour featured winters in Chamonix, a playground of the jet set, and La Grave, a chic French ski resort. Holidays were spent rock climbing, scuba diving, and parasailing. Since around 1990, Kelly had apparently been living in Kladesholmen, a small fishing village on an island off the west coast of Sweden. This is also the home of Elisabet Jansson, a beautiful blonde whom he met on a skiing vacation. Kelly, who learned passable Swedish, lived with Jansson, and the pair spent several months a year in Switzerland.

"Dear Mom and Dad," begins a letter apparently from Grenoble dated January 13, 1994. "I haven't been doing much but skiing and getting in shape. My French is getting better though." He explains that Jansson will be finishing school soon and will be

Continued on page 144

if she told anyone. Then he toot her back to the party.

Continued from page 107 joining him. He has been filling the days by "reading a lot," including It Doesn't Take a Hero, by retired general Norman Schwarzkopf. "That guy had an amazing life," writes Alex. "Reading that makes you want to join the military."

The tone changes when Kelly writes about what prosecutors describe as his attempt to renew his passport and contacting "a lot more of those companies" (allegedly a reference to outfits, including one in Moscow, which supply false identity papers). "$5000 through an escrow or $15,000 for a much more reputable place," he writes.

Another letter talks about-his life in Kladesholmen, where he reportedly fit right in, working in Jansson's father's grocery store, attending services at the local Pentecostal church, and teaching teenagers how to windsurf. "Elisabet's family and I definitely bring a lot of color out there to the island. Gossip is rampant and somehow we are always in it. It's not negative gossip though. They are all very nice." He writes of ice climbing, skiing, and scuba diving. "I had a great winter this year. ... I would love to live like this forever." He adds, "Sorry I am late but Happy Birthday, Mom. I hope you had a nice day and got your new Jaguar."

The hearing's biggest bombshell came when Hudock introduced a claim that Kelly had raped a 13-year-old girl in the Bahamas in August of 1986, a time when he was free on bail but ostensibly prohibited from leaving the country. As Hudock spoke, Joe Kelly closed his eyes. According to police, a woman contacted the Darien unit earlier last year and said that she had been raped by Kelly nine years ago. She produced a photograph of herself and Kelly, along with two others, in the Bahamas. Kelly's passport contains an entry stamp from the Bahamas dated August 2, 1986. It is not clear if the Bahamian authorities are planning to bring charges against Kelly.

Puccio denied that his client was guilty of the new rape charge, saying that it had come "out of the woodwork." He asked that bail be set at $100,000, arguing that his client would never have been in custody had he not voluntarily come home to "face the music."

Over Puccio's vehement objections, the judge also allowed David Golub to make a statement representing the victims' side. Golub noted that Kelly had not shown any remorse, and claimed that the suspect had called his client after his arrest and made disparaging remarks about her undergarments.

Afterward, standing outside the courthouse with Melanie and Joe Kelly behind him, Puccio said that the two girls—now women in their mid-20s—were lying and that Kelly was innocent. "They are not victims, because there was no crime," he said bluntly.

The judge set bail at $1 million. Calling Kelly a "high risk of flight," he also ordered him to wear an electronic monitor on his leg and abide by a nightly curfew of six P.M. to six A.M. Once again, Kelly's parents went through the process of posting bond, putting up three of their Darien properties, valued at $1.25 million, as collateral.

% V 7"hile the Kelly family was celebratW ing Alex's return at their balloonfestooned home, the clerk's office released the photos and letters from Kelly's life on the run. Earlier, the contents of the original warrant applications for the two rapes were obtained by local papers. The two girls, apparently unaware of each other's alleged assaults at the time, told eerily similar stories 10 years ago.

According to the 16-year-old girl from Darien, in an affidavit written by Detective Bussell, she and some friends had attended a high-school basketball game on the night of the attack. Afterward, the group had gone to "an impromptu party." At about 10:45 P.M. the girl had asked her friends for a ride home—she had an 11:30 curfew. But they weren't ready to leave. It was then that Kelly, whom she recognized as a schoolmate and neighbor, and knew to have "a steady girlfriend," offered her a lift home. Kelly started to drive, but pulled over by the Wee Burn Country Club and tried to kiss her. After she rejected his advances, he continued driving. But he drove past her house and stopped the car on Leeuwarden Lane, a short road ending in a cul-de-sac.

Kelly then moved over to her side of the Jeep and "forcibly kissed her while pressing his full weight against her." He told her he wanted to "make love," and when she refused, he grabbed her by the throat and began choking her. He threatened to kill her if she didn't cooperate. He then lowered the rear seat of the Jeep and forced her into the back. He ordered her to take off her clothes as he removed his own. When she didn't obey, he took off her pants and underwear and forced her to remove her top. According to her statement, the attack was extremely painful and caused her to bleed. She started to scream, but Kelly said he would hurt her further if she continued. Afterward, he told her to dress, and before taking her home, he threatened her, saying "he would do it again if she told anyone of the assault."

The girl's mother told police that when her daughter came home she was upset and refused to speak to anyone. Her older sister and brother persuaded her to tell their parents what had happened. The next day, she was examined by a gynecologist, who said there were obvious signs of trauma consistent with first-time intercourse. Later, police impounded the car Kelly had been driving during the first attack, a Jeep Wagoneer that belonged to the family of Kelly's girlfriend, Amy Molitar. The police had seen a red stain on the rear rug which was taken to the forensics lab for analysis.

The second alleged attack, four days later, was on the 17-year-old Stamford girl. Darien police were called to the emergency room of Stamford Hospital, where the girl, accompanied by her mother, told a Stamford officer she had been assaulted by Kelly at about one A.M. According to an affidavit, she had been to a party on Wee Burn Lane, just south of the country club (a quarter-mile from Kelly's home and from Leeuwarden Lane, the site of the first attack). At about 12:45, the girl told police, she went looking for a ride home. Kelly overheard, and offered her a lift. She refused and went outside to smoke a cigarette and wait for her friend, who had apparently left the party. She saw Kelly sitting in his black Chevrolet Blazer and asked him if she could sit in the car while she was waiting. Once she was inside the car, Kelly again asked if he could give her a ride home. Again she refused. But Kelly took off anyway and pulled into a parking lot.

Kelly then began kissing her. She resisted his advances. Instead, Kelly grabbed her by the coat and forced her into the rear of the car, where he forcibly kissed her while fondling her breasts. She told police she was extremely frightened and attempted to knee Kelly in the groin. Kelly ordered her to take her clothes off and, when she refused, forcibly removed them. The girl said he then raped and sodomized her, and the officer reports seeing fresh abrasions on the girl's knees, redness on her neck, and a small cut on the right side of her back. The examining doctor also reported seeing blood on her lower extremities. After this, she charges, Alex Kelly threatened to kill her if she told anyone of the attack. Then he took her back to the party.

After the second victim identified Kelly in a photo lineup of seven similar-looking white males, the police obtained a search warrant for his home. The evidence included two pairs of underwear, a pair of jeans, and a "dark wool sweater with a light-colored deer on the front" which the girl had apparently described in her statement. They also seized four plastic baggies that formed the basis of the marijuana-possession charge.

Oitting in his midtown-Manhattan ofk3fice, decorated with a Chinese screen and the requisite leather wing chairs, Tom Puccio is railing against everyone and everything associated with the Stamford courthouse. With his Brooklyn accent and impatient manner, he is central casting's idea of the out-of-towner going up against the Connecticut boys' club.

"The fact is I've never been in a courthouse that resembles this situation," says Puccio, sounding indignant. "You have the prosecutors and judges operating almost side by side right now. In terms of proximity, they are these little rooms next to each other. ... It suggests a situation in which a judge could believe they were here to deliver a conviction."

There is method behind the bluster. Should he lose, he is laying the planks for his appeal. Last fall, Puccio filed a series of motions asking for a new judge, a new court, reduced charges, and a separation of the two rape cases. He has also filed a motion to suppress all evidence seized in the F.B.I. raid on the Kellys' home; he argues that there was not enough probable cause to search the house.

In pressing for a change of venue, Puccio claims the Kelly case has deteriorated into a "media frenzy," making it impossible to find an impartial jury. He accuses Hudock of "unethical" and "inflammatory" comments that have prejudiced the public against his client. "It suggests to me that this has turned into somewhat of a circus," he adds.

That may be, but Puccio is about to bring the biggest elephant into the tent. At the same time that he is talking in court about the polluting effects of publicity, he has already made Kelly and his family available for a glossy one-hour special edition of the ABC newsmagazine Turning Point. As part of the deal, ABC reportedly agreed not to run the interview with Kelly until after the pre-trial motions have been settled, but just in time for jury selection, probably sometime next month. The finishing touches are already evident in the new, ready-forprime-time Alex Kelly, who has been sporting a gold "engagement" band on his left hand. His fiancee, as Puccio refers to Jansson, will undoubtedly serve as a character witness during the trial.

There are those who wonder if the Kellys made a wise decision in bringing in the combative Puccio, who has never tried a rape case before. He is planning to mount a very aggressive defense, alleging that both girls are lying. He indicates that he will also call eyewitnesses who will testify to the effect that the Stamford girl was "chasing" Kelly at the party prior to the alleged assault. His tough attitude toward the alleged victims may not go over very well in this day and age. "In the end, a jury trial is a popularity contest," says one local lawyer. "If they don't like you or your lawyer, it's all over. And Puccio's a very abrasive guy."

"Attitudes toward sexual assault have changed a lot in the past 10 to 15 years," says Hudock, who becomes incensed at the very mention of the term "date rape." "I'm not terribly sure what date rape is all about," he emphasizes sharply, the color rising in his face. "And I'm not sure anyone else knows. Everyone has the wrong definition."

One thing he is determined to avoid is the media sideshow that surrounded the William Kennedy Smith trial in Palm Beach. Hudock has an agreement with the victims that they will not talk with the press before the trial. He refused to grant Diane Sawyer access to them, and one of the women turned down a huge monetary offer from a tabloid. Hudock has stopped talking to reporters and puts the few he has spoken to on notice that they will have him to reckon with if they publish the victims' names. "There aren't going to be any cameras in this courtroom," he adds in a defiant tone. "I'm not doing this for anyone's entertainment."

A fter eight years of silence, Kelly, in a ilpre-trial motion filed this past September, explained his reasons for fleeing the country, laying much of the blame on his hometown. He did not leave because he was guilty, but because his lawyer advised him that being tried for the two rapes before one jury was "extremely prejudicial," and because the treatment he received in Darien was unfair.

"I was 19 at the time and scared," he says in his affidavit. "I had already experienced first-hand the prejudicial impact that the mere levelling of such charges had upon the community's judgment. After I was charged, there was intense community pressure, reported in the media, to throw me out of the high school I had attended for the past 3 years. On the strength of that emotional response to the charges alone, and without any conviction, I was effectively thrown out of school. . . . Having received that treatment from the school authorities, I anticipated no better treatment from the court system."

Kelly says that his concerns were compounded when an unusually high bail was set. "Here again," he states, "I saw the impact that the charges of this kind, with all the attendant hype, had upon those in authority."

These days, people in Darien try to avoid the subject of Alex Kelly. They don't want to relive that sordid chapter in the town's history, and they don't welcome the invading army of TV trucks, photographers, and reporters who want to show their dirty linen to the world. Even though the prosecutor has promised there will be no cameras in the courtroom, they are certain to be everywhere else. As the O. J. Simpson trial demonstrated, privacy and dignity are the first to go once the hype begins. And as everyone in Darien already knows, the Kelly case, like the Smith case in Palm Beach, will also put the town on trial, with all the same overtones of wealth, decadence, and spoiled youth. "The media has come to bury Darien, not praise her," noted a caller to "Dial Darien."

But there are still many in Darien who believe that Kelly deserves his day in court and that the town was too quick to judge him. "It was typical Darien," says Lora Bates, who hopes her former classmate will get a fair hearing. "They didn't want this black cloud over us. They wanted to sweep it under the carpet. They were very swift to do what was good for the community." Bates, whose parents still live in Darien, thinks the town is too insular for its own good. "They try to make it like this pristine little place," she says, "but what so many people never get to hear about in Darien is that it has drug problems. People just hide their problems well here."

John Risley, Kelly's former wrestling teammate, visited him a week after he got back. "I went over to his house, and he came downstairs, and he was as nice and down-to-earth as ever," says Risley. Others notice different things. At the invitation of the Darien High class of 1985, Alex Kelly attended his lOth-year reunion over Thanksgiving weekend. "It was amazing to see him there," says one classmate. "He looked great! All the other guys are balding and putting on weight, and he looked just as he did when he was 18. It was like time had stood still for him."