The inventory of Dr. Gulam Moonda’s personal property and real estate on file in Mercer County Common Pleas Court values his assets at $1,441,491. Among the items on the estate inventory is the doctor’s $550,000 home on Trout Island Road in Hermitage.

When Damian R. Bradford was released from jail in November 2005, police investigating the death of Dr. Gulam H. Moonda figured he would try to contact Moonda’s widow, Donna.

After all, Bradford, 25, of Beaver County, and Mrs. Moonda, 48, of Hermitage, had had an affair.

The Ohio Highway Patrol placed a wiretap on Mrs. Moonda’s home and cellular telephones, said Sgt. Dennis L. Goodhart, the lead investigator of Dr. Moonda’s shooting death.

Police figured Bradford would be broke, homeless and with no job prospects.

“I ain’t got s---,” Bradford told Mrs. Moonda in a Nov. 23, 2005, call played Wednesday at Mrs. Moonda’s capital murder trial.

“I don’t even know what I’m gonna do right now,” he said. “I'm all f----- up. I’m struggling bad.”

Mrs. Moonda said her life had been a “nightmare.”

Bradford, who has since admitted shooting Dr. Moonda on May 13, 2005, along the Ohio Turnpike, told Mrs. Moonda to be careful.

“They’re gonna try to use anything,” he said, an apparent reference to police.

Bradford said he wanted to see Mrs. Moonda and hoped she’d have money for him.

“Gather up any change you can for me,” he said. “I’m really struggling. I got $80.”

The call ended with Mrs. Moonda saying that she loved Bradford.

Bradford called again on Nov. 28, complaining that Mrs. Moonda hadn’t been picking up the phone when he called previously.

Mrs. Moonda complained about the unwanted attention she had received from people on the street and calls from the media and bill collectors. She also bemoaned that no one would hire her.

“Everyone’s in agreement,” she said. “I really need to get out of the area.”

Mrs. Moonda, who is on probation for a drug theft charge, said her probation officer had been coming around a lot and told her she couldn’t have contact with Bradford.

Bradford also talked about the notoriety brought on by the Moonda probe.

“Don’t matter where I go, people know who I am,” he said. “It’s f-----’ crazy.”

Bradford said he needed help. He had no place to stay and he needed to make monthly restitution payments.

No one was willing to give him a ride to see Mrs. Moonda, he said.

“Everyone feels they can be my probation officer,” he said.

Mrs. Moonda also said she needed permission to travel, but rarely left home anyway.

She also said she didn’t have any money for Bradford.

“No one’s going to help (me), believe me,” she said. “You don’t know what this valley has done to me.”

Bradford said he loved Mrs. Moonda, ending the call.

Some of the same sentiments expressed in those calls had been made months earlier, when Bradford called Mrs. Moonda from Lawrence County Jail. The call was recorded with Bradford’s knowledge that it might be.

“I just wanted to hear your voice, see how you were doing,” Bradford said.

He told Mrs. Moonda not to pay attention to what had been reported in the media.

“Just keep your head up, you know what I mean?” Bradford said. “Do what you can.”

Mrs. Moonda said her mother, Dorothy Smouse, was “so freaked out” and had gone back to her own home. At night, Mrs. Moonda didn’t even turn on any lights at the Trout Island home she had shared with her husband.

“Everybody knows where I am,” she said.

In a statement apparently referring to the probe of Dr. Moonda’s death, Bradford said: “That s--- don’t pertain to me. It don’t pertain to you.”

He also asked Mrs. Moonda to send him a money order, if she could, and to write to him.

In other testimony, jurors got more of a sense of the relationship Mrs. Moonda and Bradford shared behind Dr. Moonda’s back, and the covering up she did for Bradford.

Cherie Mitchell, manager of the Colonial Arms Apartments in Center Township, Beaver County, recalled when the couple came to look at an apartment in August 2004.

She noted they referred to themselves as “the double Ds.”

They wanted to rent the apartment for Bradford, but had a problem with the application. Bradford did not think he would pass the credit check, Ms. Mitchell said.

According to application requirements presented by Ms. Mitchell, he probably also would not have passed muster on the criminal background check, employment history and income level.

Instead, they recruited Matthew Tabbitt to obtain the lease for Bradford. Ms. Mitchell said she never saw Tabbitt again.

Joseph Buccelli, a salesman at Morrow Chevrolet in Beaver Falls, remembered when they came in December 2004 and bought a 2002 Chevrolet Trail Blazer.

“How were they acting that day?” he was asked

“Like a couple,” Buccelli said.

They bargained the sale price of the Trail Blazer from $17,900 to $16,500,

“She said she wanted to buy the car but he couldn’t be on the loan application or any of the paperwork,” Buccelli said.

Mrs. Moonda made a $3,000 down payment. Thomas Case was brought in so his address could be used, and the loan payments were in the name of Case and Mrs. Moonda.

Mrs. Moonda used her maiden name, Donna Smouse, for the purchase, along with Bradford’s Colonial Arms address, and an incorrect age and employment history, Goodhart said.

Buccelli said he didn’t try to verify what Mrs. Moonda filled out on the loan application.

“I have to go by whatever they tell me,” he said.

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