POLLY KLAAS CASE LIVES ON FOR THOSE CLOSE TO EVENTS.

Byline: Michael Dougan San Francisco Examiner 

To those who endured the trial of Richard Allen Davis, the image of Barry Collins munching waffles in Mike Meese's kitchen might seem as improbable as Cliff Harris rising at Gary Dixon's funeral to warmly remember the deceased.

Meese arrested Davis; Collins defended him in court. Harris prosecuted Davis; Dixon worked as an investigator for the defense. But the animosities generated during Davis' four-month trial have gradually started to heal.

On Sept. 26, 1996, Davis, 43, was condemned to death by Santa Clara County Superior Court Judge Thomas Hastings for the October 1993 kidnapping and murder of 12-year-old Polly Klaas, a Petaluma Junior High School student.

Participants in the Davis case say they will never be able to put the experience behind them.

Each day, Polly's father, Marc Klaas, arrived at court with his wife, Violet, and his parents, Joe and B.J. Klaas. They sat in the front row, often clinging to each other as the horror of Polly's death was relived in testimony.

A wanderer

Today Marc Klaas is a peripatetic wanderer, compelled by his need to draw meaning and social benefit from the otherwise senseless death of his daughter.

For a recent interview, Klaas called a reporter from ``somewhere in the Dallas region - maybe Arlington or something, I'm not sure.''

He was spending the week on the road, raising money for his Klaas Foundation for Children, which promotes child safety legislation, and appearing in malls and car dealerships to fingerprint and photograph children. He estimates about 20,000 kids have had their vital statistics recorded in these sessions, for investigative purposes should they - like Polly - disappear.

``You have to find some kind of a silver lining in this tragedy,'' he said. ``You have to find a way to continue on. We've never done a decompression. From the time Polly was taken until now, I don't think we've taken time to decompress or even deal with it.''

Klaas is financially supported by his wife, who works as a secretary during the day and handles his travel and foundation chores at night.

``This has not been a terrible strain on my marriage, but I think if it was to continue on like this it would be,'' said Klaas, who promises he'll curtail his travels next year.

Joe and B.J. Klaas moved to Pebble Beach after the trial, where they also work for the foundation. Joe Klaas credited his son with getting at least 100 bills protecting children passed in legislatures throughout the country.

Earhart theory

Meanwhile, the senior Klaas has returned to a lifelong project: proving, in book and on film, that aviator Amelia Earhart, lost on a round-the-world flight in July 1937, was captured by the Japanese and later returned to America to live under an assumed name.

Polly's mother, Eve Nichol, did not attend the trial. She has guarded her privacy since the day Polly's body was recovered.

Greg Jacobs, who left his administrative chores to prosecute Davis, ``actually noticed the seasons change'' this year - a luxury denied him in the months preceding and during the trial.

He's also calmed down.

``When I went back to work (after the trial), I realized the adrenaline was still flowing into my system,'' he said. ``I was still operating at a high level of intensity. I was not really relaxed for quite a few months. I was pretty impatient with people.''

Frequent lecture invitations from police and law organizations, said Jacobs, spring directly from the trial. ``I would never have been invited to speak anywhere if not for that,'' he said.

Jacobs confesses that ``in a way I miss the excitement. The fact that I got to take on the case of a lifetime and be in court again and be in the limelight - I miss it and, in a way, I don't.''

Jacobs was assisted by co-counsel Cliff Harris, who often examined witnesses.

Near the end of the trial, Harris had extensive medical tests to determine the cause of respiratory symptoms that he thought might indicate tuberculosis.

``It turned out this spring he was diagnosed with lung cancer,'' Jacobs said. ``He had a lung removed. Now he's recuperating from the surgery and getting chemotherapy. I hear he's got a good prognosis.''

His illness didn't prevent Harris from speaking at the funeral of Dixon, who had come back from quadruple-bypass surgery a year earlier to assist the Davis defense crew as lead investigator.

Though they wound up on different teams, Harris and Dixon had served together as police officers in Santa Ana.

``I'm always going to be the guy who represented Richard Allen Davis,'' said Sonoma County Assistant Public Defender Barry Collins. ``It's my legacy, you know.''

Collins feels ``a certain kind of silent bond when I see people who were involved in the case, even when I run into Mike Meese.''

Collins once rode his bike past the home of Meese, the Petaluma detective who arrested Davis and then sat through the trial as chief investigator for the prosecution.

Meese invited Collins in.

``His wife made me some waffles,'' Collins recalled. ``We made small talk.''