I ponder this for a moment. “That was very mature of Tammy. I guess she learned a few things from the mistakes she made as a pageant mom. Still, it must be very hard for her to know that even if she’s acquitted, she’ll never see her grandson again.”
“Yeah, I think that’s why she’s so obsessed with Rapscallion. That dog is the only thing she has left to love.”
Chapter 30
The courtroom is packed on Monday morning. Tammy isn’t expecting any support from family or friends, as she doesn’t seem to have many, but the media has come out in force. It’s not every day, after all, that a mother is on trial for killing her daughter. It may even make the evening news. I see Tom and Ethan already seated at the defense table and hurry to join them. I sit my caramel tote down and lay my black trench across the arms of an empty chair. I then smooth the wrinkles out of my chocolate brown skirt suit and take a seat to the left of Ethan. I take just a second to admire my jacket’s sheen. Within the first month of my starting at Mulvaney Stewart, I was visited by a suit maker. He made office visits and confided that all of the important trial attorneys at the firm, including a couple I was dying to work with, had custom-made suits. Following the advice of “dress for the job you want,” I ordered two: one brown and one navy. The order came to thirty-three hundred dollars and drained my checking account. In the last ten years, I’ve worn each suit approximately three times. Each time when I’d been given the opportunity to make the oral argument on a summary judgment motion. Civil cases rarely go to trial. Summary judgment hearings are as close as you get.
Tom looks down the table at Ethan and me. “Let’s go back and visit Tammy in the holding cell. It’s important for her to not look too nervous when she comes out. Potential jurors confuse nerves for guilt.”
We stand on cue and head past the courtroom bailiff, a squat woman working on a crossword puzzle. When we enter the hallway of cells behind the judge’s bench, we turn to our right.
“On trial days, Tammy will wait in a single cell away from the other prisoners,” Tom explains. I breathe a sigh of relief that we won’t have to parade past a group of inmates and be subjected to catcalls multiple times a day. A female guard stands at attention outside a cell at the far end of the hall. She’s tall, brunette and built. She acknowledges us by stepping aside as we approach. Tammy sits on a bunk with a thin mattress. She took Tom’s advice to heart and, while her roots could certainly use a touch-up, her hair is clean and well-brushed. The black pants suit that Tom picked out fits well and minimizes the extra prison weight she’s gained. The lavender blouse makes Tammy’s hazel eyes pop. Tom has impeccable taste. While Tammy’s no movie star, she looks like a respectable, mild-mannered, middle-aged woman. One you would have a hard time believing could strangle anyone.
When she hears us approach, Tammy looks up and flashes a genuine smile. “What do you think? How do I look?”
It’s evident that Tammy is relishing this upgrade from her prison jumpsuit. Seems that Yves Saint Laurent was right when he said that fashion wasn’t meant to just make women more beautiful, but also to give them confidence.
Ethan steps forward and purrs, “You look fabulous. The suit fits perfectly.” This is exactly what Tammy wanted to hear and who she wanted to hear it from. She’s putty in his hands. Tom steps forward and puts an end to the lovefest.
“Tammy, Ethan is right. You look perfect. Hang on to that confidence today. You want to convey to the jury that you fully expect an acquittal after they hear all the evidence.”
Tammy seems to deflate a little at the reminder of today’s importance. I swoop in with some encouragement. “Tammy, we’ve got this. Tom is one of the best litigators in the city. We have mountains of reasonable doubt on our side. You just need to trust us.”
Tammy’s smile returns and she really looks at me for what seems like the first time. “Thanks, Maeve. I have total confidence in all of you. Especially you, since you’re a mom and know how much I loved Kyleigh. Make sure the jury knows that too, will ya?”
My eyes begin to mist, but I blink it away and adamantly agree to do just that. Tom checks his watch before explaining, “Tammy, we need to get back out there and go over a few pretrial matters with Judge Tyler. We’ll see you soon for jury selection.”
Returning to the courtroom, we see Al Porter has taken his place at the prosecution’s table. He is flanked by a breathtakingly beautiful African American woman, who must be his associate. She wears a fitted black dress suit, black heels, and a string of white pearls, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looks every bit the formidable opponent she most certainly is.
Before we reach their table to introduce ourselves, the bailiff announces, “All rise. The Court of Cook County is now in session. The Honorable Clarence Tyler presiding.” Judge Tyler quickly enters the courtroom and takes his seat on the bench. He is a surprisingly attractive man with dark hair just speckled on the sides with gray and dark brown eyes. The rapidity with which he entered the courtroom makes me think he’s a runner. I’ve always had a thing for slender, athletic men. Blood rushes to my face, and lower extremities, as I find myself mentally disrobing him.
Thankfully, I’m brought back to my senses by the bailiff calling our case. “Your Honor, this is State of Illinois v. Sanford.”
I shake my head to clear away the naughty thoughts. What the hell was that about? I guess it has been a while since I’ve gotten laid, but still, I’m not prone to flights of fantasy. Certainly not when I’m at work.
We barely make it to the bench before Judge Tyler warns, “I trust both sides are ready to proceed. I believe my clerk made it clear I would not be allowing any more continuances.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” we assure him in unison.
“We did file two pretrial motions,” Tom begins before being summarily dismissed.
“They’re both denied,” Judge Tyler declares with a bang of his gavel. “The media has a right to be here and evidence about the defendant and her daughter’s turbulent relationship goes to motive.”
“But Your Honor,” Tom respectfully continues, “the benefit of both are vastly outweighed by their prejudicial effect on our client.”
“I said denied,” Judge Tyler decrees emphatically. After leveling Tom with a warning glare, he turns to his bailiff. “Judy, bring in the jury pool.”
Crestfallen, we return to our table. Judge Tyler certainly won’t be doing us any favors. Moments later, bailiff Judy opens a door off the left side of the bench and ushers in what looks to be about fifty potential jury members ranging in age, shape, and ethnicity. All, however, appear to be firmly middle to lower class. Wealthy professionals always seem to be able to wrangle out of jury duty just by placing a simple phone call to a well-connected friend.
Once the potential jurors are seated in and around the jury box, Judge Tyler addresses them, “Thank you all for doing your duty and showing up here today. You are to be commended. By way of background, this is a criminal case, specifically a first degree murder case. The defendant who will be on trial is Tammy Sanford. If any of you have seen or heard anything about this case on the news or through other media sources, please stand.”
Four people stand and are immediately dismissed with Judge Tyler’s thanks. He then proceeds, saying, “The defendant, Tammy Sanford, has been charged with first degree murder in connection with the death of her daughter, Kyleigh Sanford. Is there anything about this case that would cause you to believe that you could not consider the evidence fairly and impartially according to the law?” Two middle-aged women stand and are again dismissed with thanks. Judge Tyler then nods at Al, who rises and stands in front of the jury box.
“My name is Al Porter,” he explains, “and I represent the State of Illinois along with my co-counsel Lexi Banks.” The gorgeous Ms. Banks gives a faint smile and nod to the jury before resuming her impassive stare. “Please stand if you know either myself or Ms. Banks in any professional or social capacity.” Tom stands, identifies us, and asks anyo
ne to stand who knows us.
Done with the familiarity questions, Tom and Al move on to impartiality. “Have you or a loved one been the victim of a violent crime?” “Have you or a member of your family been convicted of a felony?” “Are you or any of your family or friends currently serving or have served as a law enforcement officer?” “This is a criminal case in which the government must prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. That means you must be firmly convinced that the defendant is guilty. Would any of you have any difficulty in holding the government to its burden?”
With thirty-seven potential jurors left, we move to the general questions including marital status, children, education, employment, and hobbies. Jury selection isn’t an exact science. You’re trying to weed out prejudice and retain open-minded people that will listen to all of the evidence before making a decision. You are also trying to assemble a group of twelve people who can work together and agree on a verdict. Tom is very good at eliciting information, getting the potential jurors talking so he can get a sense of their personality before making a call on their selection. After about an hour, he and Al Porter are able to assemble a diverse group of twelve jurors and two alternates, in case one or two of the chosen jurors gets sick or is found to be biased. As Tom had hoped, the woman-to-man ratio tilts in our favor, eight to six. We all three agreed that women would be more likely to be understanding given the circumstances. With the jury set and the initial instructions given, it is time to begin opening statements. Since the prosecution bears the burden of proof, they have the privilege of going first.
Lexi takes a moment to review her notes and then steps up to the railing separating the jury from the courtroom floor. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, who here has watched the show Toddlers & Tiaras?” About half of the jurors smile and raise their hands. Lexi continues, “Well, for those that haven’t, let me give you a taste of what you’re missing. Toddlers & Tiaras is a show about middle-aged moms who are absolutely obsessed with having their daughters win pageants. So obsessed, in fact, they do things like pad their five-year-old daughter’s dress to give the appearance of cleavage. One contestant even had her six-year-old pretend to smoke on stage.” Lexi has the jury in the palm of her hands. Several women are covering their mouths in shock while multiple men are tsking and shaking their heads. “Well, what Toddlers & Tiaras doesn’t show is what happens to those moms once their little golden tickets stop performing. But that is precisely what you will see in this trial. Kyleigh Sanford was the twinkle in her mama’s eye until she hurt her back at a cheerleading competition and wasn’t able to perform anymore. Once she was damaged goods, Tammy kicked her out of her home and Kyleigh fell into addiction and poverty. You will hear testimony from the officers present at the scene that night about the drug-filled and dirty conditions in which Kyleigh had been living with her infant son, Garrett. You will also hear testimony about a previous incident between Kyleigh and Tammy. Kyleigh asked Tammy for money to care for Garrett and Tammy responded by physically pushing Kyleigh into the street. The night Kyleigh died, she was worried that Garrett had an ear infection. Being a new mom, she wasn’t sure what to do. So, who did she call? Her own mother, of course. But instead of receiving reassurance and support, she was met with contempt and rage. Rage so intense that it ultimately led to Kyleigh having the life choked out of her by the very person who had given it to her a mere twenty-three years prior. And after Tammy ended the life of her only daughter, she left her only grandson to sit alone in a filthy drug den.”
I instinctively put my hand on Tammy’s arm for reassurance. She’s rigid and stone-faced, but I can tell she’s fighting back tears. Lexi is holding no punches and one look at the absolutely horrified jury shows she’s done her job.
Lexi finishes her statement with a plea, “Once you have had the opportunity to listen to all of the evidence, we will ask you to give justice to Kyleigh Sanford by returning a verdict of guilty. Thank you.”
Once Lexi retakes her seat beside Al, I give the jury a moment to collect themselves while I review my notes. I’d practiced this opening at least fifty times in front of my bathroom mirror this past week, pausing for emphasis at the right moments and making sure I made eye contact with all twelve jurors. I could recite it in my sleep. But after Lexi’s performance, I realize I’m going to need to improvise a bit. I take a deep breath and walk the few steps to the center of the courtroom.
Facing the jury, I begin theatrically, “Wow! A tip of my hat to Ms. Banks for one gripping tale.” I can feel Lexi boring a hole in the side of my head, but I continue, “I mean who doesn’t love Mommie Dearest? Faye Dunaway plays the perfect mother you love to hate.” The jury’s faces seem a bit confused, but I sense they are following, so I continue, saying, “But unfortunately, real life doesn’t usually resemble the movies. This isn’t the tale of a fame-obsessed pageant mom. This is a story that is unfortunately all too common these days. The story of a hard-working single mom who did her best to raise her beloved daughter, only to watch her life unravel from addiction.” I’ve made a connection. I see several knowing nods and shaking of heads.
“To address the elephant in the room—did Tammy sign Kyleigh up for pageants? Yes, she did. And dance lessons, gymnastics lessons, and voice lessons? Yes. Judge all you want, but you know what? Kyleigh was thriving. As a junior in high school, Kyleigh was in the top ten percent of her class. She was smart, popular and the head cheerleader. But that is when Kyleigh’s life took a dramatic left turn she couldn’t recover from. After suffering a fall from the top of the cheer pyramid, Kyleigh went to see her doctor for back pain. The same general practitioner who had treated Kyleigh since she was born. And what did this doctor prescribe this healthy, vivacious girl? Rest? No. Ice? No. He prescribed her Vicodin. Not once. Not twice. No, this general practitioner refilled Kyleigh’s prescription twelve times in two months. He gave a sixteen-year-old two hundred and forty pills over the course of about sixty days.” Audible gasps escape from several members of the jury.
“And that’s all it took. She was hooked. Tammy tried to help her. She even got Kyleigh into treatment after Garrett was born, but Kyleigh always went back to using. There was nothing Tammy could do.”
I shake my head and give the jury a moment to digest this before continuing. “I’m sure some of you know a person who has struggled with addiction. Maybe even a child, niece, or cousin? If so, then you know that until they are ready to get help, there is nothing you can do except love them.” A couple of jurors give knowing nods making me feel better about our chances.
“Unfortunately, sometimes the best love is tough love. And that is what Tammy had to do. She didn’t want to kick Kyleigh and Garrett out of her house, but she was forced to after discovering Kyleigh had sold her grandmother’s wedding rings to buy drugs. As for Garret, Tammy helped the only way she could: by giving Kyleigh baby food and diapers. Things that couldn’t be sold for drugs.” More head shaking and tsking from the jury.
“On the night of Kyleigh’s death, Kyleigh didn’t want baby food or diapers. She wanted money. Money that she was going to immediately hand over to her drug dealer boyfriend, Simon Harr, in exchange for heroin. Knowing this, Tammy did what she had to do. She refused and went home. Even though it broke her heart. Even though she desperately wanted to pick up that precious little boy and take him with her. But she couldn’t do that. You will hear testimony that Kyleigh had called the police on previous occasions when Tammy had taken Garrett home, claiming interference with her parental rights. So, Tammy left Kyleigh and Garrett and went home bearing the anguish that no mother should have to bear. The anguish of seeing your daughter at her lowest and being unable to help.” I know I’m pulling on some heartstrings with that one.
“Well, what happened to Kyleigh after Tammy left? You will hear testimony from a leading expert in asphyxiation that Kyleigh was not strangled. For one, there are no strangulation marks. It’s pretty hard to strangle someone with your bare hands and not leave any marks. For another,
there is a bone in your neck, called the hyoid bone.” I point in the general area on my own neck before continuing. “This bone often breaks during strangulations. Well, Kyleigh’s hyoid bone was found intact during the autopsy. So how did Kyleigh die? Our expert, Dr. Smart, will testify that sometime after Tammy left Simon’s apartment, Kyleigh went to bed. Being distraught, she wrapped herself up tightly in her comforter before dozing off. Unfortunately, she wrapped herself so tightly that she wasn’t getting sufficient oxygen. Now, if this happened to you or me, our brain would send a signal to our body to loosen the blanket. But Kyleigh’s brain was deadened by the opioids she had taken, and so it couldn’t send a signal. Kyleigh was not murdered, ladies and gentleman, she died of positional asphyxiation or, as you might be more familiar with the term, SIDS.” Every juror is looking straight at me, hanging on my every word. I could end my statement here, but I have to introduce the other suspect.
“You will hear testimony from Simon Harr about how Kyleigh was wrapped up so tight when he found her, he had trouble getting to her. You should note that it is the defense who is calling Simon as a witness. Simon didn’t make the prosecution’s list. Even though Kyleigh was found by Simon in his apartment. Maybe the State didn’t want you to hear about how Simon was the only person besides Kyleigh who had keys to the apartment. Or maybe the State didn’t want you to hear about Simon’s criminal history, including previous arrests for domestic violence.” I see Al and Lexi exchanging troubled glances out of the corner of my eye and I decide I’ve said enough for now.
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