Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time, Pudgie the Bear was skipping through the woods when Trigga the Tree Troll stopped him.

“Why are you running in my forest?” Trigga demanded, as one of his giant tree limbs stopped Pudgie dead in his tracks.

“I… I… I have every right to be here,” Pudgie quickly responded. “Why did you stop me?”

“Because these are my trees. You are robbing my forest of flowers, leaves, grass, mushrooms, berries, roots and nuts!”

“No. Not me!!! I like honey!” Pudgie cried, but Trigga wouldn’t relent. The young bear tried to fight his way out, knocking chips of bark all over the place. “I’m going to make compost out of you!”

“No you won’t,” Trigga replied, and just like that, his powerful limb lifted up and came smashing down; knocking the stuffing out of poor Pudgie’s body, sending it flying all over the place. 

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Attorneys Natalie Jackson, center, Benjamin Crump, center right, and Daryl Parks, far right, representing the family of Trayvon Martin sit stoically as George Zimmerman’s not guilty verdict is read in Seminole circuit court in Sanford, Fla. Saturday, July 13, 2013. Zimmerman was found not guilty in second-degree murder for the 2012 shooting death of Trayvon Martin. (Gary W. Green/Orlando Sentinel/Pool)

After the verdict came last Saturday night and my journey was over, I was tired. From the very first article I wrote; from the very first hearing I attended to the very end, I put in a lot of hours. One of my friends asked me if I would be alright. How would I handle it now that it’s over? Would I be depressed? No, I answered. This is the life of a writer of true crime and courtroom drama. A climbing crescendo, long and winding, coming to a tumultuous climax and compelling completion is what it’s all about. Cut to the end. If we can’t deal with it, we’re in the wrong business. That’s just the way it is. Death becomes a way of life.

By Sunday morning, most of the civilized world that paid attention to the Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman trial knew the outcome. All that was left to do was to discuss it, but not me. I needed a break. Throughout, there were multitudes of directions each and every one of us had taken — like a hundred road intersection — converging into a massive mess of a traffic jam. Which one of us had the right of way? I don’t know. I still don’t, although a jury of six women decided for us. Yield! Move on or get run over! I suppose I could write a lot about the verdict, but what’s done is done. To perpetuate the story is, to me, unbearable. I won’t let it dog me. 

The Pavlov’s Dog Affect

From the beginning of the trial — jury selection or voir dire — we were warned by the Court and deputies to turn off all cell phones or set them to vibrate. This included iPads and other tablets and devices. No noises would be tolerated in courtroom 5D. Even Siri became a serious problem. Initially, we were given two strikes — a warning, then an ejection. That changed after the second or third day when (then) Chief Judge Alan A. Dickey changed the rule. It was one of his final orders before leaving his position, which was part of routine circuit rotation. Judge Nelson wanted it to remain two strikes but, instead, it became one, you’re out, although someone in your news organization could replace you; however, if your replacement made a noise, it would be strike two and your outfit would be banished for good — to the media overflow room you go. 

Unfortunately, I heard dings, dongs, boing after beep and ring after cell phone song from the gallery. Out went a few journalists and members of the public, until the rest of us were conditioned to be scared to death. That’s a fact. For the remainder of the trial and days beyond, whenever I heard a digital noise of any kind, no matter where I was, I cringed. If I happened to be in the produce section picking out peppers when a cell phone pinged, I panicked. It was either mine or someone else’s and it meant immediate ejection from the courtroom. I called it PDSD — Post Dramatic Stress Disorder. It took some time, but I finally broke free and now feel safe when my phone barks.

Dog Eat Dog

This wasn’t my first go ‘round in criminal court. I was credentialed during the Casey Anthony trial. When journalists from all over the country and elsewhere began to come together at the courthouse for the Zimmerman trial, it was nice to see familiar faces again. We couldn’t believe it had been two years, but it was. After friendly hellos, hugs and handshakes, it was all business. Of course, there were plenty of new faces, too, from local news stations and major networks, including cable. 

It’s the nature of the business to out-scoop each other, so there’s always a competitive edge. There’s eavesdropping and lots of interruptions while talking to someone involved with the trial, as if their questions for Ben Crump seem more important than the rest. Generally, they’re not, but that’s the way it goes. Don’t get me wrong, most of the media reps are very nice, but there are a few egos that get in the way; more so from producers than from on-air personalities. Like what I discovered during the Anthony case, the more famous the personality, the nicer they seemed, and the more intrigued they were with local news people.

There was an emotional tie inside the courthouse and, most certainly, inside the courtroom. Aside from the actual trial, I mean between journalists. I could clearly sense that, after the strike rule went into effect, plenty of those people sitting on the media side would almost kill to get one more of their own in that opened up seat. They hoped and hoped a cell phone would accidentally go off, although everyone cringed when it did. We all knew it was to be expected. It’s the nature of the beast. Goody! Goody! The problem with me was that there were no replacements. I was the only blogger inside that room with credentials. Some may have resented that fact, but most didn’t. When I was asked who I was with, I proudly said, “Me!” I represented no one but myself.

Throughout jury selection and the trial, that’s the way it was. When the State rested, everyone’s attitude changed. Gone were the vibes that begged for someone’s phone to go off. There was almost a camaraderie among us. The end was near and we all sensed it. Once again, in a matter of days, we would be going our separate ways. Surely, Mark O’Mara and his defense team wouldn’t take long and we knew that, too. How did we know? Because most of us realized the State did not put on a good case. It was a letdown. Is that all there was? They sure didn’t prove anything beyond a reasonable doubt. Therefore, the defense wouldn’t need to put on much of a show. Besides, they had cross-examined the State witnesses very effectively.

With the last few days of trial at hand, what we had waited for and built up to was going to come down. A verdict was nigh and it would be over. Time to say good bye to those who cared enough. Some just packed up and left. They knew we would meet again at the next big one. Surely, there’s always a Jodi Arias out there to cover.

On the final day, last Saturday, I could feel the electricity in the entire courthouse. The building was supercharged. I asked Rene Stutzman, who covered most of the case for the Orlando Sentinel, if she could feel it, too. “Yes,” she responded. “Absolutely.”

I spoke to one of the administrators on a floor not associated with the trial in any way. She also acknowledged that her coworkers felt it, too. It really cut into their levels of concentration. Of course, some of that could have been attributed to protesters, but they didn’t come until the final three days and, even then, it wasn’t that many. No, this was a powerful trial; one that touched the entire area surrounding the courthouse.

As a final aside, I must say that Judge Nelson was one tough judge. No, I’m not going to humor your thoughts on bias, one way or the other. This has nothing to do with that. Comparing her to Judge Belvin Perry, Jr., Perry was a pussycat. He gave us an hour-and-a-half for lunch each day and there were lots of restaurants in downtown Orlando to choose from. Plenty of time to eat, in other words. Nelson, on the other hand, gave the jury an hour each day and if there happened to be any unfinished court business after they were excused, it cut into our lunch time. That meant less than an hour, generally, with NO restaurants nearby. Well, WaWa. Despite it being cold in the courtroom, I couldn’t bring perishables, so I brought MorningStar Grillers Prime or Chipotle Black Bean veggie burgers on a toasted English muffin. No butter. Plain. I heated them in the lunchroom microwave, where I ate almost every day with a handful of other journalists. Sometimes, we’d talk shop as I nibbled on fresh tomatoes and assorted fruit. Today, there are no more daily events to discuss among my peers, but I am sticking with the diet. Plus salad. Those veggie burgers grew on me, especially the Grillers Prime.

And in the end…

After nearly five years of writing about local murders, I hope nothing else like the last two cases comes along again. In the Zimmerman trial, one must understand the residents of Seminole County in order to grasp the verdict. It is a predominantly conservative Republican county made up of a mostly Caucasian population. Gun rights is an important issue. It is not a racist area, although it used to be many, many years ago, but never as much as the surrounding counties. Ultimately, the jury based its decision on the law and how it’s written; not so much on the absolute innocence of Zimmerman, as if he did nothing wrong. In the eyes of the law, Casey Anthony did not murder her daughter, did she? Or was it, more or less, because the prosecution did not prove its case?  

In the Zimmerman/Martin confrontation, it was the ambiguity of the final moments that cemented the verdict. All you need to do is to look at something else in order to figure it out. Take a DUI (DWI) traffic stop, for instance. If you refuse all tests — field sobriety and breathalyzer — and keep your mouth shut in the back seat of the patrol car, there’s hardly any evidence against you other than the arresting officer’s word. The less evidence a prosecutor has, the less chance of a conviction. That’s what happened here. There just wasn’t enough evidence. Without it, the jury could not convict George Zimmerman — not as presented by Bernie de la Rionda and his team. There wasn’t even enough for a manslaughter conviction, was there?

On the night of February 26, 2012, something horrible took place. Was it poor judgement or bad timing, perhaps? Was it both? Had Martin arrived at the Retreat at Twin Lakes only five minutes earlier, Zimmerman would have gone on to Target. Had Zimmerman only left the Retreat five minutes earlier, Martin would have walked safely home to watch the NBA All-Star Game. Who started it and who ended it can and will be argued about for years to come. I formed my own opinion, but I choose to move on now. A verdict has been rendered. Let the rest of the media hound on it. They get richer and richer off the story and I never made a dime. In the end, trust me, Trayvon Martin did not die for naught.

As for me, what does my future hold? I may re-stuff Pudgie the Bear and write fiction. Yup, you know… Once upon a time, we had characters like the Lone Ranger. In those days, good guys always wore white and bad guys never got away.

George Zimmerman is congratulated by his defense team after being found not guilty, on the 25th day of Zimmerman’s trial at the Seminole County Criminal Justice Center, in Sanford, Fla., Saturday, July 13, 2013. (Joe Burbank/Orlando Sentinel/POOL)

Cross-posted on the DAILY KOS

The Beat Goes On

When I wrote about the Casey Anthony case — All Those Years Ago, to paraphrase the late, great George Harrison — I said I thought she was a good looking girl. Of course, this was early into it, when it was all the rage to call her the ugliest woman on the planet. I said that, had I met her in a bar, prior to her daughter dying and, of course, me being in my late twenties, which I was not; I probably would have hit on her. All hypothetical. Some of my readers left me in disgust. Sometimes, honesty is not the best policy, but only in the sense that I never should have mentioned it. I was simply trying to say that you can’t judge a book by its cover. Backfire! Heck, they all knew I was in my fifties!

A television cameraman I have gotten to be friends with recently told me that his son did, in fact, meet Casey in a bar a year before anything took place, and he did hit on her. How can one look into another’s eyes and see the future? You can’t, but upon talking to her, he ultimately found her to be quite strange and chose to move on. There were plenty of other good looking girls hanging around that night and he was on the prowl. While you may think I am trying to make a point about good looking girls and book covers, I am not. It’s all about putting too much weight on how someone looks. Weight is the common thread between Casey and George Zimmerman. While she was cute and petite, he is not. He keeps growing, and I hope that is not a detriment during the trial. While texting my closest connection yesterday, I made the observation that he looked like a big ol’ toad sitting on a log. 

I didn’t mean it as a direct insult; let me assure you of that. But he does seem dazed, like he’s on tranquilizers or something, and I wonder if he will snap out of it by the time the trial starts. I don’t care if he weighs 300 pounds, so let me make that clear; however, is he content or overwhelmed by it all? Whatever, he seems indifferent and complacent, and that’s not a good thing for the defense in my humble opinion.

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I had to be outside the courtroom door by 8:00 am in order to pick a seat. We were selected by lottery and I came up number 14 out of 24 media organizations. I chose my place and that’s where I’ll be for the duration; meaning all future hearings and the entire trial, sitting in the same spot. After the selection process ended, I saw Robert Zimmerman and we exchanged greetings. Just before the hearing began, I had a chance to talk to Frank Taaffe, too. We have gotten to be friends. Let me just say that I’ve dated women who were more liberal than me, and I’ve dated women who were more conservative than me. That’s very true of my friends, too. What difference does it make when it comes to friends and lovers? That’s something I hold close to the vest. Fairness to all. Everyone has an opinion, and all are welcome in my mind.

Judge Nelson likes to get right down to business. There had been a lot of sniping going on between the prosecution and defense the past month or so, and she made it quite clear that she wouldn’t tolerate it. At 8:58 am. She didn’t wait until 9:00, in other words. Both sides were getting nasty and acting like school children; like siblings fighting for attention from their parents. Over a toy. WAH! WAH! To those who think the prosecution is right, and to those who think O’Mara is a saint, the judge doesn’t share your opinions, and that’s what counts in this case. Her job is to maintain peace and to interpret law as both sides present it, and that’s the way it went in the courtroom on April 30, 2013, Common Era or Anno Domini, depending on your beliefs.

Over a half-dozen motions were heard. While some may view the hearing as a victory for the State, I didn’t see it that way. In other words, it wasn’t that clear-cut. Defense Attorney Don West wanted assurances that the State would turn over all cell phone records it has in its possession. The judge agreed and ordered it done. Prosecutor Bernie de la Rionda did say it had nothing new to add; that everything was turned over. The defense also wanted any 911 tapes that may have been enhanced by Benjamin Crump, one of the attorneys for Trayvon’s parents. Initially, Trayvon’s father, Tracy Martin, told Sanford police detectives that the screams for help were not his son’s. Later, he changed his mind. The judge had already ruled that Crump cannot be deposed because of his status as the family attorney. “Your Honor,” de la Rionda stated, “I am not Ben Crump.” The judge ruled that any enhanced tapes must be turned over to the Defense in 24 hours, but only if they are in the State’s possession.

April 17 was the Court’s deadline for adding any witnesses, but Nelson granted the Defense request to add five new ones, only named A, B, C, D & E. The State did not object, as long as it is given the same opportunity.

Turning the wheel, Judge Nelson ordered the redaction of personal information mistakenly released by the Defense, and closed the door on publicly announcing the amount of the lawsuit settlement between the Martin family and the Retreat at Twin Lakes, where Trayvon was shot and killed. It will remain under seal unless it becomes an issue at trial. I will delve more into this subject in a later article, but suffice it to say the Defense argued that it could potentially show prejudice from the Martin family in trial testimony and the State disagreed. What relevance would it have after the fact? Trayvon was dead long before his family sued.

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Two other issues arose that were quite newsworthy. One, of course, was Zimmerman’s swearing in by the judge in order to question his understanding of O’Mara’s decision to not seek an immunity hearing before the trial. The judge had set aside the final two weeks of April (4/22 and 4/29) to hold an immunity hearing. O’Mara told the judge at the last hearing on March 5 that it would not be necessary; that it could take place during the trial, not outside of it. Judge Nelson needed to hear it from his client because a motion was filed by de la Rionda requesting that Zimmerman make it clear himself. [See: STATE’S MOTION REQUESTING COURT INQUIRY OF DEFENDANT REGARDING DEFENSE COUNSEL’S WAIVER OF ANY PROCEEDING TO INVOKE IMMUNITY (SELF-DEFENSE/STAND YOUR GROUND HEARING) UNDER F.S. 776.032]

In the State’s motion, de la Rionda noted that the defendant was not present at the March 5 hearing when his attorney waived the immunity hearing.

Failing to ensure that the Defendant has knowingly waived this statutory right has the potential to result in Defendant after being found guilty attempting to invoke such an issue in any post conviction proceeding.

The State formally requested that the Court conduct a full inquiry of the defendant. Ask him if he is aware of this. The judge obliged over concerted protests from O’Mara, who wanted it to be in the form of an affidavit. George personally waived his right, but it can still be brought up during the trial, as O’Mara has said for some time. Significantly, it could potentially mean that the Defense can move to drop the charge after the State rests, if it feels it’s a proper time to invoke immunity. More than likely, it would happen after both sides rest, but, if, and/or, when it does, it would be up to the judge to render a decision. If the judge denies it, the jury would decide on a verdict; however, the Defense also risks one important thing — that the judge turned down the immunity request for some reason. Would that impact or influence the panel of six jurors?

O’Mara did make one thing clear about that, though, regarding the judge. “We’d much rather have the jury address the issue of criminal liability or lack thereof,” so it may never go to the judge.

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O’Mara brought up the blistering attack by de la Rionda in his response to sanctions requested by the Defense against the State for discovery violations, particularly from Witness 8, who lied about her age and a trip to the hospital she didn’t take. She used the excuse as an explanation for not attending Trayvon’s funeral; that she was too sick. The Defense contends it spent over $4,000 investigating and finding the truth — something the State was well aware of since last August and withheld.

O’Mara told the judge that de la Rionda’s response was unethical, inappropriate and scurrilous. He said it was a horrific personal attack that should be stricken from the record. Judge Nelson gave O’Mara five days to come up with a list of what he wants redacted. While not coming out and agreeing to do that, she did say she found things the court wishes were not in the State’s response.

While pleading his case, O’Mara put West on the stand. He reiterated the claims made by the Defense that Witness 8’s age was first reported by Crump to be 16 when, in reality, she was 18. He also spoke about the the hospital trip she never took.

When de la Rionda cross-examined West, he reminded him that the Defense had plenty of opportunity to interview Witness 8 long before the State did. He also said he could request sanctions against them, too, for violations, because they had caused undue delays. I don’t really see it that way. The defense has not caused any delays that I am aware of, but in the end, the judge did not see any violations from the State, either. “The court does not make a finding that there was a discovery violation.”

The judge did leave the door open. After denying O’Mara’s claim that he spent “hours and hours of work” investigating discovery not disclosed by the State, which de la Rionda vehemently denied and claimed was inadvertent, she said she had no problem holding a hearing after the trial to determine whether the State should have to pay the Defense for some of the costs incurred. In my opinion, the Defense may have a good claim.

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The hearing lasted about three hours and ended around noon. As I left the courtroom, rode down the elevator, and entered the main lobby, Robert Zimmerman was sitting in a chair. I walked toward him, stopped, and we talked. He is a soft-spoken, gentle man. I asked him if he knew who I was. He did. I didn’t ask for egotistical reasons. I realized he must have known about my position in the case. After all, I still firmly believe his brother would never have exited his vehicle without a gun, and he did so despite it being the job of experienced law enforcement personnel.

While I have maintained an excellent rapport with Benjamin Crump and Natalie Jackson since the beginning of the case, I haven’t had much of an opportunity to speak with the other side, except for Frank Taaffe, who is really an independent person in all of this. Robert will always defend his family, no matter what. I understand that as surely as I understand Lee Anthony defending his sister. I told Robert that I would be fair in this case from now on. I said I would not take sides in reporting about the trial. I will tell it like I see it, but I will make no remarks about guilt or innocence. Why? This is my last hurrah. After the Anthony trial ended, people left me in droves. There were other trials and scandals to follow. Yes, some people remained and still do, but it’s the cases readers are interested in, wherever they occur. Yes, they like my take on crimes, but in the end, it’s the crime that matters. When this trial is over, what will happen? I am not the late Dominick Dunne. I cannot travel across the country writing about case after case, nor would I want to. After this, I am free to go; free to do whatever I want. My door will open. I will be able to write as I please and hope readers continue spying on me. I can move around. I can write music and kiss crime good bye…

Oh wait! One of my journalist friends just had to remind me that Casey’s civil trial will probably take place before the end of the year; the one filed by Zenaida Gonzalez. I guess that means I’ll have to wait to retire my crime writing laptop. Darn, I hope you don’t mind.

Shooting Up the Truth

I began blogging in 2004. This is an article I published way back on August 8, 2007, a year before I began writing about true crime. What’s interesting about it is that the old saying remains the same — some things never change. The name of the blogger I critiqued does not matter today. We had become very good blogging friends and he was responsible for my initial move from Blogger to WordPress, back in the day when WordPress was by invitation only. Today, my site is on the Squarespace platform, but my original “Marinade Dave” Blogger and WordPress ones are still up and running. Mostly, I use them to link articles here.

In any event, as time went on, I noticed more and more disturbing things about my friend. He embellished an awful lot. So much, so, that I slowly started to distrust him. How could someone so obscure be so famous when no one knows who he is, I wondered? Every claim to fame emanated from his blog and nowhere else. Eventually, I developed a very sour attitude and we had a falling out. The article that finally did it — the final straw — is explained in the post below. I removed the title because there’s no point in drawing attention to him; good or bad. This is exactly how I wrote it over 5 years ago. However, I did make minor word changes, mostly grammatical.

I was intrigued when I read a blogger’s post titled, [EDITED] about two distinct shootings that occurred on opposite sides of the Atlantic, one in Far Rockaway, Queens, NY, and the other in Fulham, a suburban area of West London, England. As I familiarized myself with the story, I found some discrepancies in his version and what actually transpired, and I believe it to be a distortion of the truth. In it, he represented himself as a friend of the Queens victim. How sad that a person would accept offers of sympathy from his unsuspecting audience [blog commenters] over the death of this friend in light of the facts I will relate here. I looked into the Far Rockaway shooting as he described it and found nothing. I talked to professionals working the field, including a detective at the (NYPD) 101st Precinct. I went to news wires and feeds. I tried search engines.

What caught my attention was evident from the start, that he and the victim were friends and the victim had just arrived from Haiti to live the American dream. The blogger didn’t strike me as a person who’s spent much time on that island nation. How did he cultivate this friendship? How did they meet? Queens is not in New Jersey’s back yard, where the blogger is based and works out of his apartment. Neither is Haiti. Something just didn’t click.

Interestingly, with all of the murders in NYC, I was case specific in my query. Rightfully so. I asked about a Haitian immigrant who was shot in the collarbone, based on the blogger’s description of “his friend’s” senseless murder as he sat in a second-floor. The bullet that struck his collarbone careened into the heart, killing him instantly. In reality, the unfortunate gentleman who met his demise in the news account was not a “recent immigrant from Haiti” at all, nor was he shot in the collarbone, unless it somehow worked its way from the eye to the collarbone to the heart. The victim had been living here for years and was from Guyana, not exactly within swimming distance of Haiti. Certainly, he should have known where this “friend” was originally from and how long he’d been here. I kept thinking it’s not the same shooting, they’re not related, but there was no other incident and his story crumbled.

Was this an unprofessional attempt to elicit sympathy for the overall message of his post calling for a worldwide ban on handguns? If so, he should have done more homework and gotten his facts straight. Although weapons of this nature are legal to buy in America, most used in the commission of crimes are not purchased by the book and ‘Saturday Night Specials’ are next to impossible to trace. So are the bullets. He tied this shooting to one in London. Britain has some of the most restrictive laws in the world that make it virtually impossible to legitimately purchase firearms, which means that both crimes were more than likely committed with illegal guns. The attempt to tie the two together was feeble at best, and because of a lack of solid information based on facts, it diluted the focus of the message. He used a falsehood as the pretext to further his own questionable agenda. But was it about the evils of handguns or a cry for sympathy over the loss of a friend?

In the realm of non-fiction writing, in this case what I would consider to be more of an op-ed opinion piece than a news report, authors must not stray from the truth. Embellishment and personal gain are words that should not be part of the vocabulary. The world is filled with distortions and with the tools we have readily available today, all reports of news events will be put under microscopes somewhere, sometime, by someone. Bloggers, especially of this genre, are no different from any other journalist and it’s only a matter of time before a watchdog group scrutinizes and exposes what is recorded as true. Until then, readers beware.

Although I did not know him, my sympathies go to the friends and family of the deceased, Urtez Burnett, and none for the imagination of the author of that post, who was only happy to accept sympathy.

Here is a link to the account of the Far Rockaway incident: Bullet Kills 22-Year-Old As He Looks Out Window

If you or anyone you know has information on this, please call CRIMESTOPPERS at 1-877-577-TIPS or the 101st Precinct Detective Squad at 718-868-3428.

This is an opinion piece about one blog and should be interpreted as such.