Much of the story of the Austin Gay murder trial is how I remember it, although I was able to find some old newspaper articles to help verify some of my recollection of the facts. But mostly, what I have written here is simply from memory. In this entry, I will give some background of how this murder came about and how it came to trial. It is a story of a lot of ineptitude and tragedy in that the wrong man was murdered and many of the newspapers called it the Wrong Man Murder.
The murder of Austin Gay occurred in 1979, but it was not until four years later that authorities got a break in the case and were able file charges. The first break came when some of the persons involved who were already imprisioned in separate Florida facilities for running drugs began telling remarkably similar stories to prison authorities. After comparing stories and offering reduced sentences in return for testimony, authorities were able to piece together enough evidence to charge over one dozen people. By the time arrests were made in the case, six former police officers were among the dozen or more people involved. Some of them were already serving time for other crimes and others plea bargained for reduced sentences in return for becoming a state witness, including the three Brooks brothers with Tom Brooks being the state's star witness since he was high up in the inside operation of the Domberg gang.
That left six defendants who were to be tried. However, by the time this case went to trial, only four defendants remained. Those defendants were Dave Domberg, Ed McCabe, along with the two alleged hit men, Billy Jim Cherry and Joseph Sallas. More about what happened to the other two defendants in Part 5.
The principal defendent in the case was Robert David Domberg, a moderately successful businessman who owned six NAPA auto parts stores in the Chicago area. Dave Domberg had inherited the stores from his late father. Domberg decided to make more money by getting in the illegal drug business, mainly marijuana at first. Domberg's objective was to control drug dealing in the southside of Chicago. He enlisted Tom Brooks, the middle of three brothers, to help run the drug operation. Tom Brooks had formerly been an officer with the Chicago Police Department, as was another top associate and one of our defendants, Ed McCabe, who had been a detective with the Chicago Police Department.
When Dave Domberg began buying marijuana from his supplier in Florida, Gary Lee Almond, Almond told Domberg's contact man that the marijuana could not be transported out of Florida by truck or van because of the problems of getting by the Florida Agricultural Inspection stations which require all trucks and vans to stop for inspection. Instead, Almond recommended that Domberg's mules (drivers) use a modified Ford Torino for transporting the pot. According to Almond's testimony, the Ford Torino was the favorite "mule car" because it had a huge trunk and that with modifications, the cargo area could be easily enlarged without any sign from the exterior. Almond arranged for Domberg's contact to purchase a Torino that was specifically modified for transporting large quantities of pot. Later Gary Lee Almond would be working for the state in a cocaine buying sting that eventually captured Dave Domberg.
Tom Brooks then arranged for his older brother, Harry, and his younger brother, Bill, to be the mules. Harry Books was a former Chicago police officer and Bill Brooks a former paramedic. Ironically Harry Brooks claimed he left the police department because of the corruption there. Later the three Brooks brothers even got their father involved in the operation. At the time of the trial, Harry Brooks, Bill Brooks, and their father Harry Brooks Senior were all serving time in Florida prisons. Harry Brooks Senior testified how he had never had anything more than a traffic ticket until becoming involved in the drug business with his sons.
For a while everything went fairly well. Harry and Bill Brooks would take the Torino down to south Florida, pick up and pay for a load of pot, and drive it back to Chicago where it was bagged and sold. But Harry Brooks hated driving the Torino. So on one trip, Harry (not the brightest bulb in Brooks clan) insisted on taking his pickup truck with a camper top instead. As per usual, the Brooks brothers picked up the pot and proceeded to drive back toward Chicago. The normal route near the Florida/Georgia border was on US Highway 441 near Live Oak in Columbia County which was more remote and lightly travelled than most other highways in the area.
The two Brooks brothers drove past the Agricultural Inspection station without stopping. The inspector who was working there that night was Leonard Pease, a short balding man in his fifties. Pease immediately got into his patrol car and chased the Brooks brothers down forcing them to stop. It is then that the Brooks brothers kidnapped Pease at gunpoint and drove him to Georgia where Harry wanted to kill him. But Bill Brooks wanted no part of murder and insisted that they tie Pease up and leave him in the woods. Somehow Pease was able to convince the Brooks brothers that he would be attacked and killed by bears if left in the woods tied to a tree. So the Brooks brothers drove to a small nearby rural church and left Pease tied up in one of the pews. In return, Pease gave them directions to use the back roads out of the area. Pease was later found unharmed and freed.
When Harry and Bill Brooks got to Chicago and told Dave Domberg what had happened, Domberg was furious that they had not killed Pease because Pease could identify them. It was then that Domberg along with his two closest associates, Tom Brooks and Ed McCabe, came up with the idea to hire a hit man to kill Pease. They found the hit man through a plain clothes officer that Domberg claimed was on his payroll. That hit man was a city of Chicago building inspector, Joseph Sallas, who had very close ties to powerful Chicago alderman, Ed Vrdolyak.
In 1984, the going rate in Chicago for a contract killing was $5,000 for an ordinary person up to $10,000 for a police officer or high level government official. The contract for killing Leonard Pease was set at $5,000. Later Bill Brooks testified that Ed McCabe told him that he wanted nothing to do with murder.
About one month after Pease was kidnapped, Sallas and his wife went to Florida for an air show. Sallas was a former paratrooper and often attended air shows and jumped in them. It was during this same time that Austin Gay was kidnapped, taken to a remote location, and murdered gangland style with a single bullet to the head behind the ear. Six days later, his body was found.
Austin Gay was not the man that the Domberg gang wanted murdered. He bore no resemblance to Leonard Pease who was the man contracted to be murdered. Leonard Pease was a short, milk toasty, bald man in his fifties. Austin Gay was a tall, thin man with thick white hair in his early 60's. There was no confusing the two men, if an adequate description was given. The Brooks brothers had plenty of time to identify Leonard Pease both by name and by description. The tragic killing of Austin Gay was just another indication of how inept the Domberg gang was.
While the trial centered around the murder of Austin Gay, there were multiple charges filed against the defendants including murder, conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping and multiple drug charges that resulted in a charge of RICO. Initially, the state asked for the death penalty in the murder charges against Joseph Sallas and Billy Jim Cherry. Later the state dropped its request for the death penalty.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Before You Judge, Part 3
Before you read this post, please read Parts 1 and 2 first.
First impressions can be very powerful. First impressions can be very right. Or first impressions can be very wrong.
My first impression of the cast of characters in the Austin Gay murder trial was both right and wrong. When I walked into the courtroom for my juror interview, it was difficult to see all the attorneys and their clients.
Once I was called up to the jury box and before being interviewed by the attorneys, I was immediately able to form a quick first impression.
As I looked out from my seat in the jury box, there was one large table closest to the jurors at which three members of the prosecution sat. State Attorney Jerry Blair was the lead prosecutor, and his two assistants with Len Register and Bob Dekle. All three handled portions of the trial, but Jerry Blair was a charismatic speaker who really held our attention.
The defense consisted of four tables, one for each of the defendants and their attorneys. When I looked out at the four tables, I tried to guess who were the defendants and who were the attorneys. In the far back right corner was a table with a lawyer looking man and an older grey haired Hispanic looking man, whom I guessed was the defendant. I was right. The attorney was Tom Stone and his client was Joseph Sallas who was accused of being the hired hit man. Prior to his arrest, Sallas had worked as a building inspector for the city of Chicago.
In the back left corner, I recognized attorney Victor Africano who had defended Ted Bundy in the Kimberly Leach murder. There were two other men at that table, and I guessed that the balding blond man in the middle was probably the defendant. I was correct. The defendant was Robert David Domberg who was accused of being the head of the drug ring and the mastermind of the crimes. Domberg had been a relatively successful businessman outside his drug dealings. He owned three (I think?) NAPA auto parts stores in the Chicago area.
At the center table was a man who immediately intimidated me with his looks. He looked like he might be part native American with bushy dark hair and equally bushy eyebrows. His face was hard looking like he might have done time at one time and I guessed him to be the defendant. The other man at the table was a very young, thin man with glasses. Again, I was right. The defendant was Billy Jim Cherry who was accused of being a hired hit man also. His attorney was Blair Payne. Later we found out that Billy Jim Cherry had previously served time for 2nd degree murder and was a truck driver living in Georgia at the time of his arrest.
Finally, at the closest of the defendants tables, there was a clean cut, handsome man in his thirties who smiled slightly at the jurors and an older thin man with long hair. I guessed that the older man was the defendant and the young man was his attorney. I was wrong. The young man was Ed McCabe who was accused along with Domberg of plotting the murder and running the drug operation. The older man was his attorney, Bob Adams. Prior to turning to drug dealing, Ed McCabe had been a detective with the Chicago police force.
Finally on the bench was Judge Arthur Lawrence, a very kindly looking middle aged man. Because of the complexity of the trial with four defendants and multiple charges, Judge Lawrence allowed each of us to have a legal pad and pen to take notes.
These were the people to whom I would be watching and listening for nearly every week day for the next two months.
I should note that although I did not know it at the time, Adams, Stone, and Payne were all court appointed attorneys. Only Victor Africano was hired by his client, Robert David Domberg. Also I found out later that my father knew Tom Stone. Stone was a small town attorney who did title work for the title insurance company that my father worked for.
The next diary will try to briefly summarize the trial.
First impressions can be very powerful. First impressions can be very right. Or first impressions can be very wrong.
My first impression of the cast of characters in the Austin Gay murder trial was both right and wrong. When I walked into the courtroom for my juror interview, it was difficult to see all the attorneys and their clients.
Once I was called up to the jury box and before being interviewed by the attorneys, I was immediately able to form a quick first impression.
As I looked out from my seat in the jury box, there was one large table closest to the jurors at which three members of the prosecution sat. State Attorney Jerry Blair was the lead prosecutor, and his two assistants with Len Register and Bob Dekle. All three handled portions of the trial, but Jerry Blair was a charismatic speaker who really held our attention.
The defense consisted of four tables, one for each of the defendants and their attorneys. When I looked out at the four tables, I tried to guess who were the defendants and who were the attorneys. In the far back right corner was a table with a lawyer looking man and an older grey haired Hispanic looking man, whom I guessed was the defendant. I was right. The attorney was Tom Stone and his client was Joseph Sallas who was accused of being the hired hit man. Prior to his arrest, Sallas had worked as a building inspector for the city of Chicago.
In the back left corner, I recognized attorney Victor Africano who had defended Ted Bundy in the Kimberly Leach murder. There were two other men at that table, and I guessed that the balding blond man in the middle was probably the defendant. I was correct. The defendant was Robert David Domberg who was accused of being the head of the drug ring and the mastermind of the crimes. Domberg had been a relatively successful businessman outside his drug dealings. He owned three (I think?) NAPA auto parts stores in the Chicago area.
At the center table was a man who immediately intimidated me with his looks. He looked like he might be part native American with bushy dark hair and equally bushy eyebrows. His face was hard looking like he might have done time at one time and I guessed him to be the defendant. The other man at the table was a very young, thin man with glasses. Again, I was right. The defendant was Billy Jim Cherry who was accused of being a hired hit man also. His attorney was Blair Payne. Later we found out that Billy Jim Cherry had previously served time for 2nd degree murder and was a truck driver living in Georgia at the time of his arrest.
Finally, at the closest of the defendants tables, there was a clean cut, handsome man in his thirties who smiled slightly at the jurors and an older thin man with long hair. I guessed that the older man was the defendant and the young man was his attorney. I was wrong. The young man was Ed McCabe who was accused along with Domberg of plotting the murder and running the drug operation. The older man was his attorney, Bob Adams. Prior to turning to drug dealing, Ed McCabe had been a detective with the Chicago police force.
Finally on the bench was Judge Arthur Lawrence, a very kindly looking middle aged man. Because of the complexity of the trial with four defendants and multiple charges, Judge Lawrence allowed each of us to have a legal pad and pen to take notes.
These were the people to whom I would be watching and listening for nearly every week day for the next two months.
I should note that although I did not know it at the time, Adams, Stone, and Payne were all court appointed attorneys. Only Victor Africano was hired by his client, Robert David Domberg. Also I found out later that my father knew Tom Stone. Stone was a small town attorney who did title work for the title insurance company that my father worked for.
The next diary will try to briefly summarize the trial.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Before You Judge, Part 2
Before you read this post, please read Before You Judge, Part 1.
For this part of the diary, I want to explain what it is like to be a juror who was sequestered 24/7 and the hardships and dynamics involved with being sequestered. Being sequestered is like being in prison, only you are treated to good food and with respect. But you have no freedom and very little life of your own. Everything is regimented.
The day that I reported, I brought enough clothing and toiletries to last at least two months. At that time, I was an active runner and ran several miles each day, so I also brought my running shoes and shorts. When we jurors were interviewed, I was the only one who was athletically active. But not knowing how this all worked, I assumed that I would be allowed to continue to run and that a deputy would be assigned to run with me. Ha ha ha!!! Oh the dreams of the naive! No way, no special accommodations for anyone, including runners.
Since I was not sure what we would be doing at night or during our off time, I also brought my sewing machine and a box full of material, patterns, notions, along with an iron, so I could at least sew. In retrospect, that was a very good choice.
When we reported, we were taken to the local Ramada Inn West and housed in one of the second floor wings. Our rooms appeared to have been assigned in random order, not by juror number or alphabetically. I was fortunate in that my room was about midway down the hall and on the front side of the building, so I had a view of the world outside passing by on the highway. No guests were allowed in that area and our wing was above the restaurant and motel offices.
We lost one elderly juror the very first day when she became ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. She ended up recovering completely but had to be replaced with our first alternate who was a middle aged man. Ironically, she was the first juror seated. So there were fifteen of us jurors remaining, nearly evenly divided between male and female, along with two bailiffs, one male and one female. These people, along with the two detective driver/body guards, were my only regular human contacts during the entire time I was on the jury.
Our jury was remarkable in that not only were we evenly divided as to the sexes, but racially, we reflected the majority of our local population with 2/3 of us white and 1/3 of us black. We ranged in age from the youngest at 28 and the oldest at 72. Surprisingly later, age (not race or sex) would be a key factor in one of our deliberations.
Each of us had our own room, so at least we had some measure of privacy. We were also allowed to watch television as long as we did not watch the news. That was great for me because the Summer Olympics were on and they filled much of my down time along with my sewing.
Immediately, I found out that if you were going to do anything, you either did it with the group or you stayed in your room. When we were occasionally allowed to go to the pool, we went as a group. We went to breakfast, lunch, and dinner as a group also. There were no special accommodations for different interests. But there was also no ban on visiting other jurors in their rooms. And soon a group of jurors became chummy and regularly got together to play cards. Some of the other jurors brought books with them and spent most of their time in their rooms reading.
I kept my distance at first and eventually became friendly with JB, who was juror number 10 and sat next to me every day in the jury box. JB was a 68 year old black man whom I really liked because he liked sports and did not try to talk about the trial. Although we were not supposed to open our windows, JB kept his windows open because he hated air conditioning. And the bailiffs let him. Some evenings, I would go to JB's room to watch baseball with him and another juror, and got a chance to smell the night air. To me, that was the air of freedom.
Each day began the same. We met at 7 am in front of the bailiffs' rooms at the end of the hall at the top of the stairs. From there, we all went down to breakfast together with our two bailiffs and the two detectives who met us each morning. After breakfast, we went outside to board two vans that took us to the courthouse. There was one van for the men and one van for the women. Each van was driven by one of the two detectives each of whom always carried a mysterious gym bag. We were supposed to rotate our seating in the van each day, but my friend JB insisted on riding in the same seat in the men's van every day. Nobody minded and we simply called JB the "King."
At the courthouse, when we were not in the actual courtroom, we were supposed to stay in a small juror room. However, back then in 1984, smoking was still allowed in the juror room and it was very unpleasant for us non-smokers. After several of us non-smokers complained about the smoke in the juror room, we were allowed to stand or sit in the hallway immediately outside the juror room. Later we were allowed to move a small table into the hallway, where we had a large jigsaw puzzle set up that a couple of us diligently worked on during the breaks. It is amazing how small things like that jigsaw puzzle help break the tedium.
Lunch was the highlight of our day. We ate lunch at the Ramada Inn East and they had a woman there who made the best home made pies. We were allowed to order anything we wanted from the menu for all meals and the court paid for all of our food except alcohol. There were several people who ate enough pie to feed a small army. I am sure that the pie bill was enormous. As the trial went on, weight control became a problem. One of our male jurors had trouble getting into his pants by the end of the trial. Even I, who was a runner and a naturally thin person, gained eight pounds in the two months we were sequestered.
Each evening we would head back to our hotel in our two vans driven by the two detectives with their mysterious gym bags. Once back at the hotel we were allowed order whatever we wanted from the bar as long as we paid for own drinks. About half of us regularly ordered from the bar. At six pm sharp, we had dinner.
Being sequestered was not bad on the days we went to court and heard testimony because we were doing something, even if it was sitting in our chairs listening to sometimes seemingly boring testimony from witnesses that drone on and on, especially some of the background witnesses. As the trial moved on, the testimony became riveting because we could begin to see how the case was being built or trying to be built. But the weekends and days when we were not in the courtroom were excruciatingly long. We had nothing to do other than go to the pool, and then only when the other guests were cleared out, or we could sit in our rooms. Occasionally, the bailiffs would take us on a walk through the parking lot and that was a huge treat.
The real high point of the week was Friday night when each of us had a five minute phone call home. The bailiffs were always there to listen in and make sure we did not discuss the case. But the Friday night phone call allowed us to ask our family members to bring forgotten or necessary items to drop off for us. It was also a chance to hear a voice from outside.
One day about mid way during the trial, we returned to find a sign posted on the outside of the window in the room across from mine. This room was on the back side of the hotel and backed up to undeveloped property. How someone was able to reach a second story room to paste the sign on the window is somewhat a mystery to me. What the sign said was "We are Going to Kill You" and was written in red magic marker on a large piece of white paper.
Immediately the bailiffs were notified and the next day, the judge called us in one by one to ask if the sign would affect our being a juror. Much to my surprise, not one juror was worried about remaining on the jury. However, after that, I did tell my husband on our Friday night call not to ever let our dogs outside with out being with them and not to ask me why. The death threat against the jury was never reported in the newspaper as far as I know. But later I found out that the original judge had asked to be removed from the trial after death threats were made against him. Our presiding judge and his family had also been under a death threat since the beginning of the trial and were given 24 hour protection.
Part 3 of my diary will deal with first impression of the prosecutors, defense attorneys and the defendants.
For this part of the diary, I want to explain what it is like to be a juror who was sequestered 24/7 and the hardships and dynamics involved with being sequestered. Being sequestered is like being in prison, only you are treated to good food and with respect. But you have no freedom and very little life of your own. Everything is regimented.
The day that I reported, I brought enough clothing and toiletries to last at least two months. At that time, I was an active runner and ran several miles each day, so I also brought my running shoes and shorts. When we jurors were interviewed, I was the only one who was athletically active. But not knowing how this all worked, I assumed that I would be allowed to continue to run and that a deputy would be assigned to run with me. Ha ha ha!!! Oh the dreams of the naive! No way, no special accommodations for anyone, including runners.
Since I was not sure what we would be doing at night or during our off time, I also brought my sewing machine and a box full of material, patterns, notions, along with an iron, so I could at least sew. In retrospect, that was a very good choice.
When we reported, we were taken to the local Ramada Inn West and housed in one of the second floor wings. Our rooms appeared to have been assigned in random order, not by juror number or alphabetically. I was fortunate in that my room was about midway down the hall and on the front side of the building, so I had a view of the world outside passing by on the highway. No guests were allowed in that area and our wing was above the restaurant and motel offices.
We lost one elderly juror the very first day when she became ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. She ended up recovering completely but had to be replaced with our first alternate who was a middle aged man. Ironically, she was the first juror seated. So there were fifteen of us jurors remaining, nearly evenly divided between male and female, along with two bailiffs, one male and one female. These people, along with the two detective driver/body guards, were my only regular human contacts during the entire time I was on the jury.
Our jury was remarkable in that not only were we evenly divided as to the sexes, but racially, we reflected the majority of our local population with 2/3 of us white and 1/3 of us black. We ranged in age from the youngest at 28 and the oldest at 72. Surprisingly later, age (not race or sex) would be a key factor in one of our deliberations.
Each of us had our own room, so at least we had some measure of privacy. We were also allowed to watch television as long as we did not watch the news. That was great for me because the Summer Olympics were on and they filled much of my down time along with my sewing.
Immediately, I found out that if you were going to do anything, you either did it with the group or you stayed in your room. When we were occasionally allowed to go to the pool, we went as a group. We went to breakfast, lunch, and dinner as a group also. There were no special accommodations for different interests. But there was also no ban on visiting other jurors in their rooms. And soon a group of jurors became chummy and regularly got together to play cards. Some of the other jurors brought books with them and spent most of their time in their rooms reading.
I kept my distance at first and eventually became friendly with JB, who was juror number 10 and sat next to me every day in the jury box. JB was a 68 year old black man whom I really liked because he liked sports and did not try to talk about the trial. Although we were not supposed to open our windows, JB kept his windows open because he hated air conditioning. And the bailiffs let him. Some evenings, I would go to JB's room to watch baseball with him and another juror, and got a chance to smell the night air. To me, that was the air of freedom.
Each day began the same. We met at 7 am in front of the bailiffs' rooms at the end of the hall at the top of the stairs. From there, we all went down to breakfast together with our two bailiffs and the two detectives who met us each morning. After breakfast, we went outside to board two vans that took us to the courthouse. There was one van for the men and one van for the women. Each van was driven by one of the two detectives each of whom always carried a mysterious gym bag. We were supposed to rotate our seating in the van each day, but my friend JB insisted on riding in the same seat in the men's van every day. Nobody minded and we simply called JB the "King."
At the courthouse, when we were not in the actual courtroom, we were supposed to stay in a small juror room. However, back then in 1984, smoking was still allowed in the juror room and it was very unpleasant for us non-smokers. After several of us non-smokers complained about the smoke in the juror room, we were allowed to stand or sit in the hallway immediately outside the juror room. Later we were allowed to move a small table into the hallway, where we had a large jigsaw puzzle set up that a couple of us diligently worked on during the breaks. It is amazing how small things like that jigsaw puzzle help break the tedium.
Lunch was the highlight of our day. We ate lunch at the Ramada Inn East and they had a woman there who made the best home made pies. We were allowed to order anything we wanted from the menu for all meals and the court paid for all of our food except alcohol. There were several people who ate enough pie to feed a small army. I am sure that the pie bill was enormous. As the trial went on, weight control became a problem. One of our male jurors had trouble getting into his pants by the end of the trial. Even I, who was a runner and a naturally thin person, gained eight pounds in the two months we were sequestered.
Each evening we would head back to our hotel in our two vans driven by the two detectives with their mysterious gym bags. Once back at the hotel we were allowed order whatever we wanted from the bar as long as we paid for own drinks. About half of us regularly ordered from the bar. At six pm sharp, we had dinner.
Being sequestered was not bad on the days we went to court and heard testimony because we were doing something, even if it was sitting in our chairs listening to sometimes seemingly boring testimony from witnesses that drone on and on, especially some of the background witnesses. As the trial moved on, the testimony became riveting because we could begin to see how the case was being built or trying to be built. But the weekends and days when we were not in the courtroom were excruciatingly long. We had nothing to do other than go to the pool, and then only when the other guests were cleared out, or we could sit in our rooms. Occasionally, the bailiffs would take us on a walk through the parking lot and that was a huge treat.
The real high point of the week was Friday night when each of us had a five minute phone call home. The bailiffs were always there to listen in and make sure we did not discuss the case. But the Friday night phone call allowed us to ask our family members to bring forgotten or necessary items to drop off for us. It was also a chance to hear a voice from outside.
One day about mid way during the trial, we returned to find a sign posted on the outside of the window in the room across from mine. This room was on the back side of the hotel and backed up to undeveloped property. How someone was able to reach a second story room to paste the sign on the window is somewhat a mystery to me. What the sign said was "We are Going to Kill You" and was written in red magic marker on a large piece of white paper.
Immediately the bailiffs were notified and the next day, the judge called us in one by one to ask if the sign would affect our being a juror. Much to my surprise, not one juror was worried about remaining on the jury. However, after that, I did tell my husband on our Friday night call not to ever let our dogs outside with out being with them and not to ask me why. The death threat against the jury was never reported in the newspaper as far as I know. But later I found out that the original judge had asked to be removed from the trial after death threats were made against him. Our presiding judge and his family had also been under a death threat since the beginning of the trial and were given 24 hour protection.
Part 3 of my diary will deal with first impression of the prosecutors, defense attorneys and the defendants.
Before You Judge, Part 1
For sometime I have thought about writing this entry. It is a very personal diary about how someone who is called to be a citizen must respond even when one has no desire to respond. Back in June, 1984, I was called to respond to do my civic duty. It did not require desire, courage, or political action, but it did require that I must remove myself from any personal biases and feelings in order to do it properly.
I was called to jury duty in a highly publicized and contentious criminal trial.
There are things that I write about in this diary that may be controversial. Hopefully, before you judge, you may be able to see things from the perspective of someone who was there.
It was the summer of 1984 and my husband and I had only been married slightly less than five years. We decided to take our first real vacation since being married. Our vacation was to last two weeks and would take us up the east coast of the United States to sightsee and visit older family members. It was a wonderful trip and it was also the last time I ever saw my grandparents alive.
Upon arriving back home, we were greeted with a jury summons for me. We got home on a Saturday and I was to appear in court the following Monday. As is in the case of most jury summons, I had no idea what I was being summoned for except that my summons stated that it was for a special trial. Little did I know what would lie ahead.
When I reported, I was told that this summons was for a capital murder trial that had been moved from another locale because they were unable to seat an impartial jury. I was also told that the trial might take up to four months. Since I had been away from work for two weeks already and we were way behind in our work there, I notified my employer and asked that he send a letter to the judge stating that my absence would be a hardship for my office. My employer did so, but the judge declined my request and so I remained in the pool.
While all of us prospective jurors sat in the courtroom waiting to be called by the judge, we were able to watch other jurors being interviewed. My pool was the second group of 100 prospective jurors called for this trial. A number of persons in my pool had already been excused prior to coming to court, and by the time my name was finally called, I was the last one left in my pool. And still only ten jurors had been seated.
The trial for which I was called was the Austin Gay murder trial in which a Florida Agricultural Inspector had been kidnapped and murdered by a group of people who were running drugs from Florida to Chicago. Because I had been out of town while all the pretrial publicity was in the newspapers, I was totally unaware of the nature of this trial. Still, I knew that last thing I wanted to do was to be on a jury for the next four months of my life. Unfortunately, that was not to be. I answered the questions from the judge truthfully, including the one in which I said I believed in the death penalty. More about that later.
In fact, my former next door neighbor was the FBI agent who had even worked on this case. But I was unaware of that, so it did not help get me excused. Among the many questions I was asked was had I or any member of my family been a victim of a crime. One of my family members was a key witness in one of Ted Bundy's murders. I thought that if nothing else, that fact should have gotten me excused from this trial since one of the defense attorneys in the case for which I was called was Victor Africano, who defended Ted Bundy in the Kimberly Leach murder.
Now you may ask why I believe in the death penalty. My family was deeply affected by the Ted Bundy's serial killing spree, even though we did not lose anyone to him. Ted Bundy had previously escaped prison out west, not once, but twice. It was after this second escape that Ted Bundy went to Florida where he killed two FSU coeds, injured several others, and killed young Kimberly Leach.
My family members were terrified for weeks before Bundy was finally captured. Prior to Ted Bundy, I was opposed to the death penalty. However, after Ted Bundy, I became convinced that in a few extreme cases, the death penalty is necessary to protect citizens from the likes of a serial killer, such as Ted Bundy. I do not see the death penalty as a deterrent, nor as revenge. But a serial killer who had previously escaped twice only to kill again is a danger to society. The day Ted Bundy died in the electric chair, I breathed a sign of relief that he would no longer be able to kill any more young women, or in the case of Kimberly Leach, an innocent child.
After all the questions from both the judge and the defense attorneys, I was sure that I would be excused or at least challenged. But nothing happened. There was no conference with the judge, no challenges, no additional questions, nothing. And I became the eleventh juror seated. The next day juror 12 and the four alternates were seated in rapid succession. One can only guess that there were no more juror challenges left. And so we were sworn in and prepared to spend the next four months reluctantly doing our civic duty.
But there was one last surprise. After our being sworn in, the judge announced that he had decided that we would be sequestered full time during the entire trial. That was on Wednesday and we were given the next four days to pack whatever personal belongings we needed and take care of personal business. We were also told not to talk to anyone about this trial since we were already sworn in.
I was called to jury duty in a highly publicized and contentious criminal trial.
There are things that I write about in this diary that may be controversial. Hopefully, before you judge, you may be able to see things from the perspective of someone who was there.
It was the summer of 1984 and my husband and I had only been married slightly less than five years. We decided to take our first real vacation since being married. Our vacation was to last two weeks and would take us up the east coast of the United States to sightsee and visit older family members. It was a wonderful trip and it was also the last time I ever saw my grandparents alive.
Upon arriving back home, we were greeted with a jury summons for me. We got home on a Saturday and I was to appear in court the following Monday. As is in the case of most jury summons, I had no idea what I was being summoned for except that my summons stated that it was for a special trial. Little did I know what would lie ahead.
When I reported, I was told that this summons was for a capital murder trial that had been moved from another locale because they were unable to seat an impartial jury. I was also told that the trial might take up to four months. Since I had been away from work for two weeks already and we were way behind in our work there, I notified my employer and asked that he send a letter to the judge stating that my absence would be a hardship for my office. My employer did so, but the judge declined my request and so I remained in the pool.
While all of us prospective jurors sat in the courtroom waiting to be called by the judge, we were able to watch other jurors being interviewed. My pool was the second group of 100 prospective jurors called for this trial. A number of persons in my pool had already been excused prior to coming to court, and by the time my name was finally called, I was the last one left in my pool. And still only ten jurors had been seated.
The trial for which I was called was the Austin Gay murder trial in which a Florida Agricultural Inspector had been kidnapped and murdered by a group of people who were running drugs from Florida to Chicago. Because I had been out of town while all the pretrial publicity was in the newspapers, I was totally unaware of the nature of this trial. Still, I knew that last thing I wanted to do was to be on a jury for the next four months of my life. Unfortunately, that was not to be. I answered the questions from the judge truthfully, including the one in which I said I believed in the death penalty. More about that later.
In fact, my former next door neighbor was the FBI agent who had even worked on this case. But I was unaware of that, so it did not help get me excused. Among the many questions I was asked was had I or any member of my family been a victim of a crime. One of my family members was a key witness in one of Ted Bundy's murders. I thought that if nothing else, that fact should have gotten me excused from this trial since one of the defense attorneys in the case for which I was called was Victor Africano, who defended Ted Bundy in the Kimberly Leach murder.
Now you may ask why I believe in the death penalty. My family was deeply affected by the Ted Bundy's serial killing spree, even though we did not lose anyone to him. Ted Bundy had previously escaped prison out west, not once, but twice. It was after this second escape that Ted Bundy went to Florida where he killed two FSU coeds, injured several others, and killed young Kimberly Leach.
My family members were terrified for weeks before Bundy was finally captured. Prior to Ted Bundy, I was opposed to the death penalty. However, after Ted Bundy, I became convinced that in a few extreme cases, the death penalty is necessary to protect citizens from the likes of a serial killer, such as Ted Bundy. I do not see the death penalty as a deterrent, nor as revenge. But a serial killer who had previously escaped twice only to kill again is a danger to society. The day Ted Bundy died in the electric chair, I breathed a sign of relief that he would no longer be able to kill any more young women, or in the case of Kimberly Leach, an innocent child.
After all the questions from both the judge and the defense attorneys, I was sure that I would be excused or at least challenged. But nothing happened. There was no conference with the judge, no challenges, no additional questions, nothing. And I became the eleventh juror seated. The next day juror 12 and the four alternates were seated in rapid succession. One can only guess that there were no more juror challenges left. And so we were sworn in and prepared to spend the next four months reluctantly doing our civic duty.
But there was one last surprise. After our being sworn in, the judge announced that he had decided that we would be sequestered full time during the entire trial. That was on Wednesday and we were given the next four days to pack whatever personal belongings we needed and take care of personal business. We were also told not to talk to anyone about this trial since we were already sworn in.
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