By Joel Warner
By Michael Roberts
By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
One day another inmate gave Davis the address of Rebecca Fincham, a lonely woman who'd answered the inmate's personal ad in a newspaper. Davis began to write to her, too. Fincham wrote back, telling him about her two young daughters and her unhappy marriage to a man who drank too much. Davis sympathized and flirted. After two or three letters, she asked, "Do you miss sex?"
It was not so much a question as an invitation. Hell, yes, Davis wrote, he missed it. In short order, Fincham's letters went from coy to teasing to torrid. To call them "sexually explicit" would be an understatement; they oozed sex.
Becky Fincham talked a good game, Davis learned, and had the experience to back it up. As investigators would later discover, Fincham and her husband had been involved in wife-swapping on an Army base in West Germany--the husband claimed it was Becky's idea--and had returned to the United States with a cache of pornography and sex toys.
Davis was impressed. Here was a woman who wasn't shy or prim, a woman whose rich and varied store of fantasies could keep pace with his own. He had found his match at last. His mate.
Together they would do terrible things.
This victim in this crime was not touched by me in no way. That story I told while on the stand was to get Becky off. It was Becky's crime not mine. (7/27/89)
Davis had to revise his image of Becky Fincham after she started visiting him in prison. She was obese and seemed to be missing her eyebrows. She had scars on her breasts and arms, which she told Davis were the result of a sexual assault that occurred on an Army base in Georgia years before. He thought she was repulsive; years later, he even recalled being "scared of her because she was so overweight."
Yet Davis could not have asked for a more attentive girlfriend. She bought him a television, boots and expensive silk handkerchiefs; now divorced, she visited every weekend, bringing her daughters with her, and always provided him with spending money, ten or twenty bucks a week. Davis figured she could take care of him during his prison stretch and maybe afterward, too.
During one visit in 1984, he asked her if she would marry him. Much to his surprise, she said yes. They were married over the phone by a minister. Fincham's daughters began to call him "Daddy."
Not long after the ceremony, another inmate became interested in Fincham's thirteen-year-old daughter and asked Davis if he could write to her. Neither he nor Fincham had any objections. In fact, the ever-helpful Becky sent the boys a special treat: a photo of herself topless for Davis, a semi-nude shot of her daughter for his pal. The photos were intercepted by prison officials. Fincham was charged with sexual exploitation of a minor, and her visiting privileges were revoked.
Unable to have any physical contact, the newlyweds devised a telephone game to keep the fires burning. As Davis described it, the game involved Fincham trying to act out fantasies that he requested. Both of them were indifferent, it seems, to the fact that Davis's collect calls were subject to monitoring by prison authorities.
"Mr. Davis indicated that he would like to hear her 'give head,'" a psychologist reported after interviewing Davis about the relationship. "Ms. Fincham then brought a male named Jay into the house and did this, while the telephone receiver was off the hook so that Mr. Davis could hear. Mr. Davis reports that he had never met a woman who would say and do these kinds of things, and that he found this very amazing."
According to Davis, Fincham also described imaginary scenarios to him over the phone in lurid detail: picking up and seducing a man who resembled Davis; picking up a woman at a gay bar; having sex with a friend while the friend's husband watched; even being raped by "a male who resembled a prison guard." The fantasies were at the core of what they had together--more satisfactory, certainly, than the physical relationship they embarked upon when Davis emerged from prison in 1985.
His release posed a number of problems for the couple. Fincham had received three years' probation on the child-exploitation charge. In order for a rapist like Davis to parole to her residence, she had to send her daughters out of state to stay with her parents. And since both she and Davis were under court supervision, they had to steer clear of his old habits, such as drinking and pulling knives on underaged girls.
For a few weeks it looked like things might work out. The couple landed a job managing an Aurora apartment house, and Davis kept a lid on his boozing. But he couldn't hide his physical aversion to Fincham, and soon both he and Fincham were drinking and trolling for new kicks.
"I thought when I married Becky that I could overlook her being so fat," he later wrote. "She had a place for me to come out to and I knew I would not be lonely. But I was wrong, I was lonely, even with her. I took up drinking again to fill the empty void in my life. Also I drank to have the stomach to touch that fat broad."