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

No Smoking Gun?

There wasn’t really any shockingly new or surprising material in Thursday’s document release from State Attorney Angela Corey’s office, but I did manage to squeeze out a bit of information. Ever since this news story broke, my main contention with George Zimmerman was that he got out of his vehicle with a loaded pistol to chase after a figment of his distorted imagination — a hoodlum; a bona fide bad guy. Prior to yesterday’s release, we knew nothing about Sanford’s three main gangs, all known as “goons” in one way or another. Could Zimmerman have uttered “f*cking goons” under his breath during his now famous call to a Seminole County police dispatcher that fateful night of February 26m 2012? It makes more sense than “cold” or “punks” doesn’t it? And it’s a matter of fact that the majority of those goons are made up of minority ethnicities; African-American and Hispanic. For me to say so does not make me a racist.

One thing is certain regarding race. Not one of the nearly 30 people interviewed considered Zimmerman to be one, either, and I, for one, never believed he was from the gitgo. If anything, look at the city of Sanford and Norm Wolfinger’s office for racial issues but, even there, I would dare say you will never find anything close enough to substantiate claims of bias. Odds are good that had it been a Hispanic wearing a hoodie that night, his fate would probably have been the same. Zimmerman was on a mission. Look to Bernie de la Rionda for guidance on this matter. He maintains that Zimmerman is guilty of criminal profiling. That’s a far cry from racial profiling. On this issue, I suggest we move on because there is nothing to substantiate any prejudice and all that will come out of it will be feuding and hard feelings among commenters. The real issue remains the same. Zimmerman profiled, stalked and murdered an innocent teenage boy. Regardless of what anyone feels Martin had done prior to that night, he did absolutely nothing to deserve what he got — a hollow-point bullet through his heart.

I’m going to start by taking this page-by-page. I will readily admit I didn’t get everything, so I will rely on you, dear reader, to fill in the gaps and offer up your ideas. There’s a lot to discuss.

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On page 11 of the 284-page document, State Attorney’s Office Investigative Division Memorandum, an enlightening statement was made by a Sanford police officer:

“Officer Mead saw the flashlight ‘on’ at the intersection of the two walkways when he responded to the scene.”

Actually, the flashlight was found south of the intersection, as the maps will show, but the part that’s very revealing comes from what Zimmerman told investigators during his next day reenactment. He specifically said his flashlight was not working that night.

“… I had a flashlight with me. The flashlight was dead, though…” (Watch HERE; 8:11/15:04)

This is another example of Zimmerman’s imagination getting the best of him. Does he assume that changing the facts literally changes the facts to his advantage? Does he think people are so stupid he can pull the wool over their eyes, including trained law enforcement investigators? Yes, I’m afraid so. It also means, in my opinion, that he pounced on Martin, cop style, with gun and flashlight in hand, right in the young man’s eyes.

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On page 34, during the night of February 26, while at the police station:

“The Evidence Technician came and collected clothing and photos of Zimmerman. The injuries to the back of the head of Zimmerman appeared to be abrasions and not lacerations.”

What this tells me is that Zimmerman was never close to his demise. If Martin popped him one, it was in self-defense and he he had it coming. It also tells me that those butterfly bandages on the back of his head, placed there by his wife, (shown the next day during the reenactment) were a farce and nothing more than a pity ploy to make him look more injured than he was.

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On page 54 of the document, and part of the FDLE Investigative Report, Wendy Dorival put on a presentation at a Retreat at Twin Lakes HOA meeting at Zimmerman’s request. She is a civilian liaison with the Sanford Police Department. Held on September 22, 2011, she clearly instructed Zimmerman of the rules. A witness (name withheld) at the meeting said that:

“… it was told, you watch, you do not take any action on your own, you get away from the situation and you call the police.”

These are guidelines, not laws. Zimmerman was not supposed to be carrying a firearm, either, but he was licensed by the state of Florida to do so. The point of this is to show that he was aware of the rules, yet he chose to ignore them. Why?

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On page 60, one of the witnesses noticed that the loud noises were getting closer.

“They first thought it might be kids in the neighborhood or people having a good time outside. Hearing the noise a second time, he decided to mute the television. Not hearing anything at first, he heard the sound again as if it was coming toward him and getting louder.”

What this signifies is movement, which contradicts Zimmerman’s account of where the fight began and where Martin fell to his death, which were in close proximity. According to Zimmerman, there was no running; no real movement. The maps show that the fight did not take place where he said it did, and Martin’s body was found farther south.

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On page 65, another witness describes what she heard and saw. To be fair, she did take her contact lenses out before being compelled to look out of a back bedroom window:

“Hearing what sounded like running, she glanced out of the bedroom window (rear facing) to see a person go by from left to right (in a south to north direction).”

What this tells me is that, if true, Martin and Zimmerman were farther south than Zimmerman explained in his reenactment, and that Martin was much closer to where he was staying; in the townhouse that was east and most south of the sidewalk where he fell.

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Another witness, on page 71, states that he heard what sounded like an argument, right in the area of the T-section on the walk way. He then said:

“… he heard a scuffling sound that was moving down the walk way getting closer to the building next to his house.”

This means the chase headed north, but the ensuing battle moved Zimmerman and Martin toward the south, as one of them fought back. (See map)

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On page 74-75 of the FDLE Investigative Report, Wendy Dorival said she never had any further contact with Zimmerman after their September HOA meeting until the following month, when he requested information on a recent burglary that happened in the area. However, at the meeting, she gave him a neighborhood watch coordinator’s handbook and explained all the duties and responsibilities. She also asked him for something else:

“Dorival said during the meeting with Zimmerman she asked him to make a list of all the neighbors who wanted to be involved in the crime watch program. Zimmerman was then to determine who would be willing to be block captains and get her the list… Dorival said Zimmerman never provided her with the list of names for the crime watch program.”

This can be highly revealing. Was Zimmerman a loner? Was he a vigilante who wanted all the glory for himself? Or was he lazy and someone who didn’t follow through on his obligations? Not according to his work ethic, where he was quite adept at his responsibilities, according to interviews with associates.

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Page 76 is a very telling page. The FDLE report explains what agents found in Zimmerman’s possession the day he turned himself in to authorities on April 11:

“Upon the completion of booking Zimmerman into the Seminole County Jail, SA Rogers transferred a Fabrique Nationale Herstal (FNH) Five-seven handgun cal. 5.7 x 28 SN# 386201358 and three magazines with ammo to SAS Duncan. SA Rogers stated that the handgun and magazines were the property of Zimmerman.”

It’s my understanding that this particular weapon is a police killer because of its ability to pierce armor. I imply nothing by stating that. You can formulate your own opinion, but the gun was fully loaded and each clip holds 20 rounds. That’s 80 bullets, folks. I understand his fear and desire to protect himself, certainly in light of the New Black Panther Party threat against him, but my question is whether this particular gun is overkill. Until his arrest, it was still legal for him to carry a firearm. To those who give to his cause, you’re out $1,200, plus extra clips and ammo. If he’s found not guilty, thank yourself for buying him one helluva pistol.

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On page 78, Zimmerman spins his tale to a witness, who I will assume is Frank Taaffe, Joe Oliver or Mark Osterman. What really intrigues me the most is how Zimmerman was able to pull the gun out of his holster. Of particular interest is the fact that he is left-handed and the holster was on his right hip, set-up for a left-handed person to reach across his chest and belly to go for the gun. While that might not seem like much, it also means that when he went for the gun with his right hand, he either fired it upside down or he had the time and space to turn the gun right-side-up before firing it straight into Martin’s chest:

“Zimmerman used both his hands to pull Martin’s hands away from Zimmerman’s mouth. Martin then observed or felt the handgun on Zimmerman’s side, took his other hand away from Zimmerman’s nose and reached for the handgun stating, ‘You’re gonna die now Mother F*cker.’ Zimmerman slapped Martin’s hand away from the handgun, pulled the handgun, rotated the weapon and fired one round. Zimmerman’s elbow was on the ground at the time he fired.”

I find this to be extremely problematic for several reasons. It means that, since the bullet went straight into Martin’s chest, he had to have been perfectly parallel to Zimmerman’s body at the time the bullet was fired. Why? Because earlier in the interview, Zimmerman’s friend said this:

“Martin and Zimmerman struggled, which resulted in Martin gaining a position on top of Zimmerman, sitting on Zimmerman in the ‘mounted position,’ Martin’s butt on Zimmermans stomach, with Martin’s knees on the ground next to Zimmerman’s ribs.”

 With knees positioned the way they were, how does one wiggle their way out? How did the gun move from behind Martin’s thigh to in front of it? If Martin was riding Zimmerman like a horse, how did the bullet go straight into his chest while Zimmerman’s elbow was in direct contact with the ground? If Martin was positioned parallel to Zimmerman at the time of the shooting, how did Zimmerman manage to get the gun between the two sandwiched chests, let alone with enough of a gap to point the gun straight in?

Incidentally, Zimmerman said he made eye contact with three witnesses during the struggle, yet no witness has admitted to that. How observant for a guy to notice that, yet he contradicted himself regarding Martin’s age; someone who was a heck of a lot closer than the nearest witness.

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On page 86 of the FDLE report, a background interview took place with the person who provided Zimmerman’s firearms safety training course. Zimmerman’s certificate was dated November 7, 2009. I will have a complete article that will describe, in detail, what led up to George’s obsession with buying guns. Yes, it’s about a dog. Until then, there is plenty to discuss, including personal issues regarding his family and a certain ex-fiance. That’s too much to handle in this post, so please feel free to address his temperament and anything else. Certainly, if I’ve missed anything else, I’d be more than happy to learn, but as far as I’m concerned, the only smoking gun, so far, is the one that George Zimmerman held in his hand on February 26, 2012.