LACI'S LAST DAY

On the last day of Laci Peterson's life -- Dec. 23, 2002 -- the nursery was ready for the baby boy Laci was bringing into the world.

The crib was in place, the bedding was bought, and a circular life preserver bearing a "Welcome Aboard" message hung on a wall.

Out in the living room, brightly decorated presents were already under the twinkling Christmas tree.

There was an obstetrician's appointment that day, some grocery shopping to do and calls to make to her sister, hair stylist Amy Rocha, who was going to cut Laci's husband Scott's hair around 6 p.m. at her salon.

Laci would also have to remember to phone her mother Sharon Rocha that night to tell her she and Scott would be over for a Christmas Eve dinner. All was right with the world and the pretty mom-to-be, filled with hope and dreams for the future, was happy.

You could see it in that big dimpled smile of hers.

But then a killer, whom Modesto, Calif., police say is her own husband, wiped that smile away . . . forever.

At Scott's preliminary hearing, witnesses painted a heartbreaking portrait of Laci's last day under questioning by Deputy District Attorney Rick Distaso and defense attorney Mark Geragos.

The Petersons' housekeeper Margarita Nava remembered that when she arrived at Laci's home at 8:30 a.m. Laci flashed her trademark smile.

Rick Distaso: "Can you describe what her demeanor was? How she was acting on that day?"

Margarita Nava: "Like all the days or other days that I had gone, she was content. She looked happy."

As the last hours of her life ticked away, Laci, 27, left Margarita to her cleaning duties and went off to do a little shopping.

An hour later Laci returned, her arms full of groceries for the holidays. The shopping trip had tired her out a bit. She made herself something to eat and plopped in front of the TV.

Scott arrived home and after Margarita finished her duties, took Laci for an afternoon appointment with her obstetrician Dr. James Y.K. Yip, who called it "a routine prenatal visit." Conner, the baby boy, due to arrive February 10, was doing fine.

Tired, but buoyed with the good news that she was carrying a healthy child, Laci accompanied Scott to Salon Salon, where Amy worked.

Rick Distaso: "What was Laci doing while you were cutting the defendant's hair?"

Amy Rocha: "She was sitting next to us, just talking to us . . . she was really tired.

"She even said that she was tired . . . she just seemed exhausted from like the pregnancy."

Laci surely must have flashed that million-dollar smile when Scott graciously volunteered to pick up a fruit basket gift Amy had on order the next day from a local fruit store.

Amy Rocha: "He offered to pick it up . . . he said he was going to be out that way golfing."

As Laci and Scott left the salon, Amy, who had plans to spend Christmas Day at their home, had no idea Scott would never pick up the fruit basket -- or that it was the last time she'd ever see her sister.

At 8:30 p.m. that night, Sharon was on the phone with her friend Sandy when the call-waiting signal flashed. She put her friend on hold and heard her daughter Laci's voice.

Sharon Rocha: "She had called -- I had asked them on a couple of different occasions to come to our house on Christmas Eve, and she called about 8:30 Monday evening to tell me that they would be coming to our house for dinner."

Rick Distaso: "And how long did that conversation last?"

Sharon Rocha: "It was only a couple of minutes because I was on another line . . . she sounded very tired and I asked her if she was feeling all right, and she said that she was just really tired."

Rick Distaso: "Did you hear from Laci ever again after that phone call?"

Sharon Rocha: "No."

Later that night, eight-months-pregnant Laci was dead.

A day that had begun in hope, ended in murder.

-- DON GENTILE