Crazy for You

by Michael Fleeman

  With Hemy in jail and no longer working, Ariela had no choice but to press the issue, said Panitch. Returning to work as a teacher’s assistant, Ariela made a fraction of what Hemy had brought home, and now the family had fallen behind on the mortgage on their five-hundred-thousand-dollar home and feared foreclosure. Two of the children were in college, and tuition payments were coming due. Ariela claimed that while Hemy was locked up, she couldn’t even get access to the bank accounts to pay the bills. “Mr. Neuman was the primary breadwinner in the home,” Panitch told reporters. “He has access to funds which he has not given his wife access to.”

  As the separation battle heated up and the prosecution’s murder investigation fell into place, Hemy made his second court appearance. Guards escorted him into the courtroom on April 4 to formally enter a plea to the charges in the indictment. Hemy had not been seen since his initial court appearance the day after his arrest. Wearing a dark suit instead of the jail uniform, he appeared thinner and grayer than four months earlier. He smiled at his attorney Doug Peters, who was wearing his traditional bow tie.

  “We enter our plea of not guilty to those charges,” Peters said.

  Hemy’s wife and children were not there, nor were any friends or co-workers. As always, Andrea didn’t attend.

  At the hearing, District Attorney Robert James announced he was ready to go to trial but Peters asked for more time. “We’re very determined to study very carefully what the district attorney’s evidence shows,” the attorney said. James didn’t oppose the request. “I think some additional time would be reasonable in this case, given this is not your average murder case, I would just ask for a limited amount of time.” The judge set a trial date of October 17.

  After the hearing, Esther Panitch continued to pound at Hemy. In remarks to reporters, she portrayed him as a deadbeat dad and nonsupportive estranged husband while his wife suffered financially and emotionally as she struggled to keep the family together. “Imagine waking up and having the police come to the door and say your spouse is accused of murder when they’ve never had a history of any criminal activity. It’s devastating,” Panitch said. “She is doing as well as can be expected under these horrific, awful circumstances.” Hemy, she said, had not even seen his children since his arrest.

  In his own statements to reporters, Peters acknowledged that Hemy had not seen his children but claimed they had corresponded. Calling Hemy a “very committed, loving father” who had “always had” his children’s interests “utmost in his mind,” Peters said, “He’s been a great father. He’s had an entire life of providing for his children. He’s doing all he can now to remain being a good father.” A matrimonial attorney, Joseph Winters, had been added to Hemy’s legal team but declined to comment, saying the publicity “only adds to everyone’s pain.”

  Two months later, in May, lawyers for Hemy and Ariela appeared in a different court. What normally would be a routine meeting in the divorce action turned contentious as Panitch accused Hemy of tying up tens of thousands of dollars from his retirement accounts. Winters shot back, “This is a waste of time, money, and assets for everyone concerned.” He claimed that what money Hemy had left all went to his family. Panitch said that was not true. “He is a liar. He wrote an email saying, ‘I have a poker face. I lie’”—a reference to Hemy’s email announcing their separation. “His word means nothing.” Claiming Hemy had hidden his money, Panitch said, “I need to be able to find the assets.”

  When Panitch again sought a subpoena of the entire investigative file, Andrea’s attorney Seth Kirschenbaum stood up to object. “No one on this earth wants [Neuman] convicted more than my client,” he said. He accused Ariela and Panitch of being “motivated by vindictiveness” and blasted Ariela’s ongoing efforts to depose Andrea. Kirschenbaum accused Ariela and her attorney of tactics “designed to embarrass and humiliate” Andrea. This prompted Panitch to suggest that Hemy’s lawyers were joining forces with Andrea’s to stymie the divorce proceeding and to save Andrea’s hide.

  Fulton County Superior Court judge Margaret Dorsey had finally heard enough. Saying that she too was “a little bit concerned” about what impact Ariela’s requests would have on the murder trial, the judge put Andrea’s deposition on hold. The case file would remain only for the eyes of the DA and Hemy’s lawyers.

  The rhetoric proved to be the last gasps for all sides. Days later, lawyers reached a deal in which Ariela would have access to the family’s financial records and what was left of their dwindling assets. According to court papers, the family had fallen behind on the mortgage and Hemy had to borrow three hundred thousand dollars from his mother, the funds presumably going to his legal bills because none was given to his wife and children. Hemy’s lawyer griped that Ariela merely accepted “the same offer we made several months ago,” but Ariela was satisfied. “She’s relieved this part of this is finally over,” Panitch said. “She looks forward to having the assets turned over so she and her children can continue to live.”

  The deal also gave Ariela leverage against Hemy if he didn’t deliver. By not formally filing for divorce, only separation, she remained his legal wife, leaving the decision in her hands whether or not to testify against her husband, Atlanta law saying that a wife could not be compelled to do so. Said Panitch, “It’s a question of when it’s best for her.”

  * * *

  Overlapping the marital dispute was a scrimmage in criminal court over publicity and evidence. On Tuesday, May 17, 2011, Dick Williams of the Dunwoody Crier found himself thrust into the middle of the Sneiderman murder story when he was called to testify at a pretrial hearing by Hemy’s attorneys. His own paper would later report that Williams was “somewhat startled and confused” by his subpoena, though the defense’s intention became clear. Hemy’s lawyers were seeking to show that the vast publicity in the case had prejudiced Hemy’s chances for a fair trial and that the judge needed to impose a gag order and continue sealing documents. Although many court papers had been filed under seal, the case had been an information sieve to the detriment of Hemy. Only Hemy’s statements during his questioning had remained under wraps, and his lawyers wanted to make sure that they stayed that way. The Atlanta media, including the lawyers for Cox Media, which owns the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and WSB-TV, objected. They wanted the judge to unseal previously sealed court papers, including pretrial motions, which often are made public.

  Williams was called to show how saturated the region had become with news about the Sneiderman killing. In his testimony, the publisher noted that for the Crier the case was in fact close to home, literally, as the shooting occurred across the street from the newspaper offices. Williams himself went to the scene shortly after it happened. “Since then we have assigned one reporter to cover this case until it is wrapped up,” he said. He told his staff that the case was the “highest-priority story going forward.” The Dunwoody Crier alone had published fourteen articles in the paper and online, a huge amount for a weekly.

  “Based on emails, phone calls, and my experience in the business, this is a case that has caught the public fancy,” Williams said under questioning from defense attorney Robert Rubin. “The fact is that my discussions at lunch and my own staff can’t get enough information about it … that is how many news judgments are made.” The case had received widespread coverage from much larger outlets, but the Crier wouldn’t back down. “I don’t want to get beat,” he said.

  Those larger outlets were at the hearing in force. So many lawyers showed up to represent the Cox media outlets that District Attorney Robert James gave up his counsel table to them and quietly sat in the back of the courtroom. The judge put off a decision, keeping the investigative documents sealed for now. It was for Hemy’s team a small victory, and one they’d have little time to savor, for more trouble was coming Hemy’s way.

  CHAPTER 14

  The hearing began on August 15, two months before the trial was to begin, and it would concern the admissibility of some of the most d
amaging evidence against Hemy.

  The stakes were high for both sides. Rusty’s father and brother, who flew in from Cleveland, sat in the audience section of the courtroom. They had not seen Hemy since the shiva at Rusty’s home after the funeral when he was just another face in the crowd. “We wanted to be here for Rusty,” said Steven Sneiderman. Andrea did not attend, represented again by her lawyer.

  Waiting in the wings to testify was Ariela Neuman.

  Hemy’s lawyers sought to throw out almost everything police had collected under a search warrant from Hemy’s house and office, including his computer, as well as records for his cell phone and email accounts. The searches, the defense claimed, produced evidence tainted by “defective warrants, issued based upon affidavits that failed to establish probable cause or that provided stale information.” Hemy’s lawyers also wanted Judge Gregory Adams to bar most of what Hemy said during his police interview on the grounds he was not properly informed of his rights. And the defense wanted to control the verbiage at trial, seeking to bar the DA from saying things like “murder” and “malice murder,” and “possession of a firearm during the commission of a crime.”

  The hearing put the Dunwoody Police Department under the microscope. Called to testify, Detective Andrew Thompson acknowledged that the Sneiderman killing was his first murder case and had to answer for what some had argued was deferential treatment of Andrea. Thompson revealed publicly for the first time that he didn’t talk to her until the day after the shooting and that “she did mention that Hemy was her supervisor at that point, and that he did make an advancement toward her,” he said. Addressing why the department didn’t go after Hemy sooner, Thompson said Andrea “seriously minimized the encounter and said that was a onetime incident. Nothing ever came of that.” Therefore, he said, “That information about Hemy was not shared. We were being driven toward other avenues of investigation by the family … by Andrea’s parents, by Andrea herself.”

  Sergeant Gary Cortellino also testified, telling the judge that investigators had “yet to compare notes” before talking to Hemy and that only later did they obtain the search warrants for phone records and texts and emails between Hemy and Andrea.

  “So when you decided to arrest Mr. Neuman, you had the same information essentially as you had when you began this videotaped interview?” asked defense attorney Bob Rubin.

  “Right,” said Cortellino.

  That made Hemy’s interrogation—and all the information gleaned from it—the basis for most of what evidence later was collected. The defense attacked the tactics of Cortellino and Barnes, suggesting they ran roughshod over Hemy’s constitutional rights. Cortellino said that Hemy only waived his Miranda rights about an hour into the interview and even then after a back-and-forth between him and the detectives over the subject of an attorney.

  “He asked me, he said, ‘Do I need a lawyer?’ and I told him, ‘I don’t know, do you need one?’” said Cortellino (the recording and transcript of the interview had not yet been released publicly).

  “Mr. Neuman says, ‘I’m not waiving my rights,’ correct?” asked Rubin.

  “I’m not waiving my rights, but I do want to talk,” corrected Cortellino.

  “At that point, did you stop questioning him?” asked Rubin.

  “When he said that I didn’t know exactly what he meant,” said Cortellino, who then went on to continue questioning him. “I had no inkling of his role in any of this. So there was no need to Miranda as far as I’m concerned because he wasn’t a suspect. He was just somebody that was in the circle knowing the family.”

  Of course, the detectives had more than an inkling—they had Hemy’s name on a rental form for the van most likely used in the murder, and they knew that Hemy was Andrea’s boss. In his questions to the detective, DA Robert James ticked off the many things that went right in the interview, noting that Hemy never was in custody, legally speaking, before he was Mirandized. He also said that Hemy voluntarily rode with detectives to the police station—he was not arrested or handcuffed. Nor was he ever denied the chance when he got to the interview room to call a lawyer or even get up and leave, even though he had a good excuse to because of the doctor’s appointment.

  James noted, “At no time did Neuman say I need for this to end,” and argued that a “reasonable person would not feel he was in custody and was going to be in jail that night.” In the end, James said, a DVD of the interview would speak for itself, showing that Hemy “did indeed waive his rights” and that the information provided was “freely given and not given in custody.”

  After a week-and-a-half break, the suppression hearing resumed August 24. The focus now was on the search of Hemy’s house the day he was arrested. For this, the DA had a star witness.

  Ariela Neuman had shoulder-length blond hair with bangs and glasses and wore a white blouse with a necklace. She took the stand and gave her name for the record. Asked what her relationship was to the defendant, she answered, “I am his wife.”

  The first time the public saw Hemy’s estranged wife made for a dramatic day in court. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution observed, “Neuman seemed taken aback by the presence of his wife of 22 years.” Channel 2’s reporter said Neuman “appeared surprised.” The Dunwoody Crier said Ariela “avoided eye contact” during her brief testimony. The only thing that would have heightened the tension was a face-off with Andrea Sneiderman, but she once again did not come to court.

  Answering questions from Chief Assistant District Attorney Don Geary, Ariela said that at the time of his arrest Hemy had not been living with her for months but had access to the house. “He came back and forth,” she said. “He had the keys. He had the [garage door opener] to come into the house, and he was there, definitely.” When police initially arrived, they told her that her husband had been arrested—it was the first time she’d heard about that—and that they wanted to search the house.

  “I gave them permission to take everything they want,” she testified. Police stood by awaiting a warrant. Only when it arrived, she said, did the officers take the home computer and two storage drives, even though her husband was no longer living there.

  Her testimony was a blow to Hemy—his attorneys had claimed she was coerced by police into the search. “She chose to help because she’s always cooperated with law enforcement,” said her attorney Esther Panitch. “She has always claimed there was an affair. And at the beginning she couldn’t believe that her husband would be tied to a murder.” The case had placed Ariela “in a very unfortunate position,” said Panitch. “We are hopeful that she will not need to appear again as she tries to move forward with her life in the wake of this devastating trauma related to the outcome of an affair between her husband and Andrea Sneiderman.”

  On September 8, Judge Adams issued a written ruling. “The defendant voluntarily accompanied officers to the Dunwoody Police Department,” the judge wrote. “The defendant spoke to and gave a video recorded statement to officers of the Dunwoody Police Department. During the defendant’s statement there was no coercive police or government activity [and] during defendant’s statement there were no improper threats or promises.” The tactics by Cortellino and Barnes, from haranguing Hemy to crowding him in the small interview room, passed legal muster, the judge found. What’s more, the judge said, “During defendant’s statement the defendant did not exercise his Constitutional right to remain silent nor did defendant make an unambiguous or unequivocal request for counsel, and … the defendant was not in custody until informed that he was under arrest at the completion of the recorded statement.” Signing the rights waiver, even so far into the interview, meant just what it said it would: Everything Hemy said could be used against him.

  The judge refused to dismiss the search warrants and refused to toss out Hemy’s statements to police, before and after his Miranda warning. The DA scored a slam-dunk victory. All of the evidence amassed against Hemy Neuman could be used at trial.

  What’s more, as part of the ru
ling, the search warrants were released to the media, laying it all out for every potential juror to see: the van rental; the purchase of a Bersa handgun for $375—the same day Hemy withdrew $400 from an ATM; the gun seller picking Hemy out of a lineup; the iPhone and iPad records; and more allegations about Hemy’s relationship with Andrea.

  “Investigation revealed that the defendant and Andrea Sneiderman were spending an inordinate amount of time together, and frequently made overnight trips away from the Atlanta area,” the search warrant said. “It is probable that the defendant may have made some statement and/or admission to Andrea Sneiderman regarding his involvement in the murder of the victim, which may have been conveyed by electronic communication.”

  Soon more revelations would reach the media, including details of the email Hemy had sent to Andrea with the Bruno Mars gift song after the murder. Then another search warrant affidavit stated in the strongest terms yet the official theory for why Rusty was murdered: “Law enforcement has cause to believe that an extramarital affair between the defendant and … Andrea Sneiderman in large part provided motive to murder Russell Sneiderman.”

  Suffering a major pretrial defeat and the daily drumbeat of negative publicity, Hemy’s lawyers caucused. With a mountain of evidence against their client, a traditional reasonable-doubt defense was an option. But they had another choice, one born out of developments behind the scenes that the public—and prosecutors—didn’t yet know about that opened the door for a bold legal gambit. It was legal strategy rooted in an obscure nineteenth-century event, one that has frequently failed and now promised to subject Hemy to nationwide ridicule. But it appeared to be his last best hope.