Jennifer Odom died 33 years ago. But on Monday, she came to life before a Hernando County jury.
The same panel that last week found Jeffrey Norman Crum Sr. guilty of her 1993 abduction and murder, a crime that haunted Tampa Bay for decades, saw Jennifer in pictures and heard her in words.
Her family spoke of a girl who was adventurous and caring and smart. They spoke of unending torment, fear and grief.
“People use the words like closure and justice,” her stepfather, Clark Converse, told the jury. “Closure would be our beloved daughter being returned to us. Justice would be the ability to have our lives be whole again.”
The family’s testimony marked the opening day of the penalty phase in Crum’s trial. He faces a possible death sentence after being found guilty last week of Jennifer’s murder, kidnapping and sexual battery.
Jennifer was abducted after she stepped off a school bus Feb. 19, 1993, near her home in rural Pasco County. Six days later, she was found dead in a wooded, abandoned orange grove in southern Hernando County.
Her murder long vexed law enforcement and left a community with an enduring sense of loss.
State prosecutors argued that the heinousness and cruelty of the killing, along with its cold and calculated nature, among other factors, justified the most severe penalty under Florida law.
Crum’s defense argued a litany of reasons against the death penalty, including Crum’s lifelong struggle with alcohol and his poor health.
The state began making its case with testimony from Jennifer’s stepfather, her mother and her aunt, whose words were meant to show her uniqueness as a person and the impact of her death. About 20 of Jennifer’s friends and extended family members seated in the courtroom gallery sobbed and dabbed their eyes with tissues.
The family spoke of a Girl Scout who once proudly sold 500 boxes of cookies. An athlete who competed around the state in barefoot water skiing competitions. A loving daughter who once worked with her sister to make their aunt breakfast in bed. A devoted friend who took time each day to hug and wish a good day to a boy who had a disability.
Her mother, Renee Converse, wrote in a statement that was read aloud by a victim advocate that she was forever broken-hearted, “empty” and lost trust in people after her daughter’s death.
“For over 30 agonizing years, our family was left to carry this heavy cross without answers,” she wrote. “And during a lifetime of milestones that Jennifer was cruelly denied, we spent three decades trapped in a state of suspended grief, frozen by the … mystery of who stole her from us.”
After Crum’s arrest in 2023, her mother said the renewed stress led her to suffer a series of strokes, which left her partially blind.
Clark Converse spoke of the idyllic family life they once had.
He’d met Jennifer’s mother in 1989 and fell in love. They married about six months before Jennifer died. Jennifer and her younger sister, Jessica, had their own bedrooms in their family home. They installed two sinks in their shared bathroom so the girls wouldn’t fight over who could use it. They never fought, though; they were best friends.
Their lives, Converse said, were shattered after Jennifer’s death. He recalled watching his wife in the days after Jennifer vanished as she sat in a rocking chair and gazed out the window at their front drive, waiting for her to come home. Her pain, he said, kept her from allowing him to comfort her.
“I was unable to be her husband,” he said, “because all she wanted was her daughter.”
Jennifer’s aunt, Mary Beth Lambert, spoke of a pervasive guilt, wondering if there was something she could have done to save her.
“For years, I couldn’t look at a school bus without feeling my heart ping,” Lambert said. “The agony that we could not save her is something we will carry for the rest of our lives.”
The jury saw a photo montage showing Jennifer throughout her life. There were family portraits, images of her water skiing, riding a four-wheeler and posing beside her sister. The slideshow ended with an image of her grave in Sacred Heart Cemetery, near her family home.
“A very special child,” the gravestone reads. “Jenny’s loving inspiration will live forever with all who knew and loved her. May she have eternal light, happiness & peace.”
From the outset, Crum’s defense told the jury their efforts to spare his life were hampered by the 30-year span between the crime and his trial. Many of his closest family members have since died. Those who did testify could only offer a brief sketch of his life and personality.
A stepsister couldn’t say much more than Crum had worked construction and that alcohol was a problem in the family. His son, Jeffrey Crum Jr., who testified in the trial’s guilt phase, said the same. He also recounted his father once told him that his own father had physically abused him in childhood.
Hyman Eisenstein, a forensic neuropsychologist, conducted an extensive evaluation of Crum’s life and psyche.
Crum was born in northeast Ohio but came to Florida as a teenager, Eisenstein said. He reported having suffered head injuries throughout his life and endured physical abuse from his older brother.
He got married in 1980, when he was 19. His wife was 15. Their son was born the following year. Crum Jr. told the psychologist his father taught him to repair motors and machinery and raced dirt bikes with him. But he struggled with alcohol and drugs. When he took them, his son told the psychologist, Crum was a “ticking time bomb.”
Despite his struggles, Crum managed to hold steady jobs working construction. He helped build Walmart stores and refurbished federal courthouses throughout Florida.
Eisenstein said Crum, who just turned 65, is of average intelligence but shows some early signs of dementia.
He has congestive heart trouble and liver disease, among other conditions. He’s also struggled with depression and reported trying to end his own life by drinking too much.
Crum told the psychologist he reads the Bible and prays daily.
But the jury also heard about his other crimes. They included the 1992 Pasco County rape of a teenage girl who was attacked after stepping off a school bus, a crime similar to Jennifer’s murder.
And they heard directly from another victim.
A woman, now in her late 50s, took the witness stand to recount how Crum raped her when she was 18. It happened in 1985 in Tampa. She was trying to hitchhike home to Pasco County when Crum picked her up.
He told her he’d give her a ride, but he stopped and had drinks at a bar first. After a while, she told him she needed to get home, that she had a baby she needed to see.
They walked back to Crum’s car. When they got inside, Crum slapped her, she said. He tore off her shirt.
“And he told me he was going to take me and let a bunch of men have fun with me and then he was going to kill me,” the woman told the jury. “He told me I would never see my child again alive.”
After she was raped, the woman managed to open the car door. She rolled outside, spotted a nearby sheriff’s deputy and screamed for help. Crum took off but was later arrested. He was convicted of sexual battery and spent a few years in prison.
Closing arguments in the penalty phase are set for Tuesday morning. After that, the jury will decide whether to recommend that Crum receive a death sentence or life in prison.
