by Dale Hudson
“What possibly could be going through her mind and her heart?” Hembree dangled the question before the jurors. He then discussed her “supposedly” coercive testimony that the defense had made a lot of hoopla over. The prosecutor reminded the jury she had a lawyer. “She agrees to talk. It’s just that simple. She made voluntary, knowing, and intelligent waiver, and she signed it, agreed to it. She made a choice.”
Hembree disputed the testimony of the defense’s key expert witness, Dr. Tony Albiniak. He alleged the expert witness did not give accurate information and had made assumptions that were outside his area of expertise.
“These statements are a tremendous problem for the defense in this case,” he redirected the juror’s attention in a loud voice. “Because they said, ‘I did it.’ They say, ‘I’m guilty. I planned the murder with my boyfriend and I went out and I did it. I killed him,’ and now here we are. [If] they don’t deal with those, there’s no reason to be here, okay? They’ve gotta do something about it. They can’t just let them lay there, so they drag in ol’ Dr. Albiniak from Coastal Carolina, a paid defense witness. ‘Tell us what you know, Doctor. Give us your opinion on all this,’ and he says, ‘You know I don’t like it.’You know, he doesn’t like it. Well, folks, he’s not the boss, all right? He’s not the one that gets to decide these things. He’s a psychologist, for heaven’s sake. He’s not—and he says—he admits this has nothing to do with the law. This is a legal problem. There’s no legal problems with this, ‘But as a psychologist, I have problems with it.’
“Well, you know, if he’s on trial, then we can talk about that. But he’s not, right? This isn’t a court of psychology. Thank heavens we haven’t moved to that yet in our country. It’s a court of law. We deal with law, and he admits that that’s not his thing, that’s not what he’s looking at. What’s particularly troubling, though, about his testimony, which was really interesting, when he said, ‘Well, there may have been actual cases where people have admitted to things that they didn’t do, but nothing as serious as this now.’ Those were his words, folks, ‘But nothing as serious as this.’ Now, I guess this would be the first reported case of its kind in his mind in the world. I find that kind of a stretch.”
Hembree pointed out further that Albiniak failed to interview the defendant and even failed to listen to [Renee’s] last interview tape [with the police]. “He just didn’t take the time to do it. He had the tapes. He just didn’t say, ‘I didn’t have the opportunity to,’ [he] just didn’t take the time, and that’s poppycock. That’s junk science, and it ought to be treated just like that.”
The prosecutor then addressed what the defense had termed as being “unfair and dishonest” police interviews.
“It’s no secret that they lied to her. That’s no big revelation or smoking gun. They did it. They misled her to try to get her to confess. Now, you may not like that. I mean, personally you may feel like that’s unfair or it’s distasteful, but I’m gonna tell you it’s legal. It’s legal. Not only is it legal, it’s effective in reaching the truth.”
Jack and Marie Summey looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
Finally, the last issue Hembree chose to contest was the defense’s contention regarding Renee’s withdrawal from conspiracy.
“She could have canceled the trip, changed the hotel, or canceled the baby-sitter. At any point along here, she can get off that train. She doesn’t do that. She can save her husband’s life [at] any point. So many ways. ‘Let’s not go out tonight. Let’s stay in the hotel. Let’s not go to Dick’s Last Resort. Why don’t we go to the south end? I’m sorry, I don’t feel like going out on the beach tonight. I have a headache. Why don’t we put the kids [sic] to sleep and go out on the balcony? Or why don’t we change hotels?’ Or take your pick, all these opportunities to withdraw from this—this diabolical conspiracy—and every single time is consistent with one goal, one result. The death of Brent Poole.”
It must have occurred to the jurors by now that the prosecution had already painted a portrait of inconsistency in Renee’s testimony and her actions. Just in case, the solicitor provided them another plausible motive.
“She did not withdraw for a reason. And that reason was she wanted it all. She wanted the money, the hundred thousand plus; she wanted the house; she wanted the truck; she wanted sole custody of her daughter; she wanted her lover; she wanted to do what she wanted to do. That’s why she didn’t stop this thing. That’s why she didn’t withdraw. She not only didn’t withdraw, she continued on after the crime had been committed, lying to protect herself and her lover. That’s not withdrawal, ladies and gentlemen, that’s not even close. That’s not even a second thought.”
Several of the jurors stared at Renee. She sat placidly at the defense table, looking straight ahead, listening to Hembree, who never missed a beat.
“Kimberly Renee Poole committed many sins. She lied and was unfaithful to her husband. She tried to turn the affection of her daughter to another man, teaching [her] to say, ‘I love you, John.’ She deserted her family. She planned a brutal murder, and she carried it out. She lured her husband, like prey, down to the beach, with the promise of sex to provide an opportunity for the murder, and she lied to protect herself and her lover. But, ladies and gentlemen, I submit to you that there is no sin that is more depraved, more diabolical in this case, than the robbery. And I don’t mean the robbery, the false robbery, the fake robbery they did to cover their tracks. I’m talking about the robbery of Katie Poole’s father, because Katie Poole was a daddy’s girl. She was crying when he left, the last time she saw him, and thank God, she’s got four grandparents that love her.”
Hembree paused for the jury to consider that thought. He gave them his last piercing look.
“Because of the planning and execution of that plan by Kimberly Renee Poole,” he started again in a soft and sorrowful voice, “Brent Poole will not be there for her. Because of the planning and execution of that plan by this defendant, Kimberly Renee Poole, Brent Poole will not be there when she starts kindergarten on her first day. Because of the planning and execution of that plan by Kimberly Renee Poole, he will not get the chance to walk her down the aisle when another man puts a ring like that on her finger, a ring like the one that was left next to the dying body of Brent Poole by this defendant and her lover.”
Hembree’s closing arguments had been filled with sincerity and humility, and when he finished, the courtroom was as silent as a Sunday-morning prayer meeting. Now the focus was on the jury and the one question that had brought them all together: Had Renee Poole conspired with her lover to murder her husband?
Judge Cottingham issued the charge of the court. He suggested the jury not start their deliberation until after they had had their lunch. The panel that would decide Renee Poole’s fate retired at 12:54 P.M. There was a rustle in the courtroom and everyone rushed off to lunch.
At 4:40 P.M., the jury forelady asked and then received a communication from the judge. She had sent a note with the words “Laws in writing” at the top, and then asked for explanations of the legal terms: 1) weight of circumstantial evidence; 2) law of conspiracy, oral and written. The jury wanted those charges to be given to them by the judge in writing.
Cottingham quickly answered both questions for them. “The law makes absolutely no distinction between the weight or value to be given to either direct or circumstantial evidence, nor is a greater degree of certainty required of circumstantial evidence than of direct evidence. A conspiracy is a combination of two or more persons by concerted action to accomplish some unlawful purpose or to accomplish a lawful purpose by unlawful means.” He handed them a copy of the instructions from which he read.
It seemed as if the jury was taking forever. However, four hours later, at 8:45 P.M., a juror rapped lightly on the door of the deliberation room. His signal indicated they had reached a verdict.
Word quickly spread in the courtroom that a verdict had been reached, and as if someone had pushed an imaginary pa
nic button in the courtroom, people scampered for their seats. Slowly the jurors took their places while all eyes in the courtroom searched their faces for clues. The prosecution team was looking for justice, while Brent Poole’s family needed closure and sought resolution and peace. The defense searched for a reasonable doubt in the faces of jurors. All they needed for a hung jury was one dissenting vote. Renee and her family prayed for that one juror who would give her the opportunity to get her life and her daughter back. In her hands, Renee clutched her daughter’s beaded birth bracelet.
The judge turned toward the jury and asked, “Madam Forelady, has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?”
“Yes, we have, Your Honor,” Gail Whitehead answered.
He asked for all the jurors to raise their hands, then directed, “Publish the verdict.”
“This is indictment 99-GS-26-2250,” the court clerk read aloud.
Both the victim’s and the defendant’s families were holding hands and trying to keep their composure. The jury felt sorry for them. This case was about one family losing their son and now another family risked losing their daughter. Regardless of the verdict, the two families would never be the same again.
“The State of South Carolina versus Kimberly Renee Poole,” the clerk continued. “Indicted for count one, murder, the verdict is guilty.”
Renee’s family and friends looked completely stunned. Jack and Marie stared at each other in disbelief as the tears began to swell and fall on their cheeks.
All eyes were on Renee Poole, who had lowered her head into her hands.
“As to count two, criminal conspiracy,” the clerk read again from the sheet of paper, “the verdict is guilty.”
There was a collective groan heard throughout the courtroom. Members of the Poole family reached out and embraced one another. The prosecution team smiled and graciously nodded.
It wasn’t difficult to determine if Renee Poole was acting or reacting to the decision of the jurors. Her face was beet red and washed with tears. She was bent over across the table and never once looked up when Diggs asked that the jury be polled. One by one, each juror stood up and confirmed the collective decision.
The judge asked to address the jury before he imposed sentence. After a brief show of appreciation, he stated, “I apologize for the inconvenience of having sequestered [you] from your loved ones and from your family. But I tell you that I’ve been on the bench now for sixteen years and was a trial lawyer for some thirty-two years prior to that, and in my experience, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a more dedicated jury, sworn to find the truth as you have. I observed you very carefully since Monday morning of last week. You were intent at all times in the pursuit of the truth, and that’s what we were assembled for. And by your verdict, you have told me where the truth lies and we are in your debt.”
The judge excused the jurors, but invited them to stay if they wished. Only two remained seated in the jury box: forelady Gail Whitehead and juror Jarid Hardee. When he asked for the defendant to approach the bench, her counsel had to embrace her physically and lead her to the front.
The judge gave the victim’s family an opportunity to speak. Agnes Poole had waited so long for this opportunity, but it was of little consolation in comparison to what she had lost.
“On January 24, 1974,” she began, “a little baby boy was born to me after eleven years of not having a child. He was very, very special to us. We had wanted another baby for many, many years, and God so gave him to us. He was so special. He had the most beautiful smile you could ever envision.
“Our Thanksgiving that first year was absolutely horrible without him. Christmas without Brent, Katie’s birthday without Brent . . . there were so many occasions. Mother’s Day without my son. His birthday, we had to go to the cemetery instead of seeing him and wishing him ‘Happy Birthday.’ We had to put flowers on his grave. . . . ”
Agnes’s emotions got the best of her and she couldn’t continue. Her daughter Dee stepped up to take her place.
“I wish that you had had a chance to know him,” Dee said, fighting her tears all the time. “I wish that everyone working on the case had seen someone other than the person they saw lying in the sand. Brent was my baby. He was ten years younger, and I helped raise him, and when we got this news seventeen months ago, nothing prepared me. I absolutely felt like our family would never go through something like this. There was trust in our family, there was love; [this] was something that happened to other people, and nothing prepared me for this news. I pray that no one in this courtroom has to go through what our family has gone through.
“When I went to my parents’ house in the middle of the morning, the sounds that came from my mom and dad were not even human. The pain that has rippled through our family is like there’s a puzzle and the big piece that went right in the middle is missing, and the only thing that I can say is that I will not have to see my brother in pain anymore. I know that he is in heaven and I know that he is not begging to be loved.” She cut her eyes toward Renee. “He is in heaven and I know he is not begging to be loved. He is not begging for anything. He is well taken care of.”
Dressed in a dark blue suit with his angel wings on the front lapel, Bill Poole stood silently by, holding on to Agnes. She urged him to speak to the judge, to say something about Brent, but he shook his head. He was in too much pain and just couldn’t bring himself to get the words out.
For most of her life, Renee had suffered from a familial tremor in her hands, which was known to be benign. As she stood propped up between attorney Diggs and Detective Martin, the tremor in her left hand was so pronounced it resembled a severe case of palsy. She couldn’t stop crying, and her sniffles and snorts were so loud they were heard above the testimonies of her in-laws.
Diggs reached over and pulled out a few tissues from the clerk’s desk, then handed them to Renee. He stood there, holding Renee up, with his head down, and a twisted smile across his face. In his eyes, it looked as if he, at that moment, had the whole weight of the trial on his shoulders.
“My client doesn’t have a previous record,” Orrie West reminded the judge. “I think the court is aware of that, and she’s twenty-two, turned twenty three in the past week. Your Honor, I understand the court doesn’t have much leeway in this matter, but any consideration you could give in this matter would be appreciated, particularly the possibility of running the sentences concurrent, since there are two charges, and we would ask the court to consider being as merciful as possible to our client.”
All the color had gone out of Diggs’s face. His sullen look was indicative of the weariness from the hellacious battle he had fought in this trial. Regardless of what the jury had determined, he still believed in her innocence.
“I would submit you heard the facts of this case,” Diggs stated, “the evidence of the case, and certainly this defendant is, I would submit, deserving of mercy of the court at this point. It’s never been asserted by the state that she was the person who murdered her husband. Your Honor knows, based on the evidence in this case, it is a rational verdict, that she had a minimal amount of involvement in this crime that would qualify her or put her in that area where the jury could reach that verdict, and I would ask Your Honor to be as merciful to her as you can.”
Without a doubt, Renee Poole was in the most uncomfortable position she would ever know in her lifetime. Her soul was in the hands of God, but right now, all life—as she knew it—was in the hands of this man dressed in black who was about to pronounce sentence. She trembled profusely, with an obvious jerk in her left arm, as if she might break and fly apart in pieces at any moment. Cottingham’s comments were scathing.
“Mrs. Poole, I have sat here very patiently listening to some horrible testimony during the past five [days] and the jury has found that you deliberately planned the killing of your husband and the father of a three-year-old child. That you led your lover to a site in Myrtle Beach, deliberately set [your husband] up to have him killed, planned it w
ith him, and are just as guilty as the one as if you had pulled the fatal trigger that took the life of that young man and the father of your child. It is a horrible set of facts.”
Renee could barely stand up straight. Crying steadily and the tremor in her left hand shaking uncontrollably, it was as if she were still in the midst of a bad dream. She glanced up at the judge with sad, puppy-dog eyes, begging for mercy, then looked down again.
“You have had the advantage of two distinguished attorneys, who have given you the benefit of every defense to which you are entitled, and then some, and yet a jury of your peers have found you guilty of this horrendous crime by evidence beyond a reasonable doubt. I see no basis in this world of showing you any mercy in the handing down of a sentence in this case.”
Renee’s whole body cringed at the judge’s statement and collapsed against her supporters’ outstretched arms. She struggled to breathe through subdued whimpers and cries.
The tone of the judge’s voice would never change. The courtroom remained silent. The only sound heard was Cottingham’s voice.
The judge cleared his throat.
“It is therefore, Kimberly Renee Poole, that the judgment and sentence of this court is that you be confined in the state penitentiary for the balance of your life. With regard to the charge of conspiracy, I sentence you to five years concurrent.”
And with those last words, Renee collapsed and was literally dragged out of the courtroom by the bailiffs. She was handed over to the police, where she was handcuffed and transported back to the J. Reuben Long Detention Center. Knowing Renee would never taste freedom outside a jail cell again, it was a shocking event to witness.