Imperfect Justice

by Jeff Ashton

  Whenever an attorney says there is a question of competency the law requires the court to take it seriously and explore the issue. Casey was being so stubborn that she would not even discuss the plea issue with Cheney. When he tried to broach it, she would not react or listen in any way. If he talked about it, she acted like he wasn’t there. Though we doubted there was truly a competency concern, we agreed that a competency examination was necessary.

  My take was that Cheney felt they were losing the case and Casey needed to seriously start thinking about taking a plea. I think he was frustrated with her stubbornness. We agreed to tell the press that a legal matter had come up. Casey was ordered to speak with our old friend Dr. Jeffrey Danziger and another psychiatrist, Harry McClaren, who was from Chattahoochee, a small town up near Tallahassee.

  The doctors both agreed that Casey was fine and competent to stand trial. They also said that she told them that she was not interested in a plea. It never came up again.

  I have never had a “competency for stubbornness” issue before. People decompensate and get worse through the stress of a trial, but this was not a real competency issue. This was addressing stubbornness.

  ROY KRONK WAS THE WITNESS everybody had been waiting for and the defense called him to the stand on June 28. Cheney Mason was going to be questioning the Orange County meter reader, who we hadn’t called because of his credibility issues. But he was an important witness for the defense, because they were trying to make him a scapegoat. Kronk repeated his story of seeing something suspicious at the scene where the body was found on the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth of August. The jury heard all three of his calls to 911. Kronk said that on the day of his final 911 call, he didn’t get any closer than twenty to thirty feet of the suspicious bundle.Mostly, the defense was curious about what kind of money Kronk felt he stood to make for the discovery of Caylee’s body. He said he was aware of the $50,000 reward. Cheney asked him if he had ever used the term “winning the lottery” about the body and if he had told someone he didn’t want his ex-wife to know about his reward. Kronk said that he had been joking when he made those remarks.

  Because the defense was alleging that Kronk had taken the Anthony’s duct tape, on cross, we asked him if had ever met the Anthonys or had access to their house, car, or garage. Kronk said he didn’t know the family and did not have access to their home. Kronk’s estranged son, Brandon Sparks, was called to testify the following day. Sparks said his father had told him in November 2008 that he had found Caylee’s skull, and he was going to be rich and famous. But Kronk told jurors the conversation with his son had never happened.

  George Anthony took the stand for a fifth time on June 30. Jose started right off the top, ripping into him about why he didn’t do anything if he thought the trunk of the Pontiac smelled like death, and about a statement he allegedly made that his granddaughter would be found in a swamp. Till now, George had managed to keep his composure during his prior cross examinations, but he wept openly when Baez raised questions about his attempted suicide in January 2009.

  He asked George about the suicide letter and implied that it contained some expression of guilt. I didn’t want Baez telling the jurors what was in the note. I wanted them to read it for themselves. To this point, I wasn’t sure the judge would let the entire letter in. I had done a ton of research on the issue, and I thought I could get some of it in, but all of it would be a stretch. I objected to Baez’s question, since the letter was not in evidence and pointed out that I had it in the courtroom if defense counsel wanted to place it in evidence. I don’t think Baez knew I had it. He took the letter in his hand and held it as he tried again to give his version of what it said. I objected again and we approached the bench.

  At the bench Judge Perry showed once again his understanding of tactics and appellate issues. During the discussion I argued that the questions already had made some portions of the letter admissible. The judge discussed the issue and seemed to agree that what Baez had done might make it admissible, rather than explicitly rule he just sort of gave his impressions on the issue but did not rule. Baez left the bench apparently under the mistaken impression that the court had decide to allow the whole letter in. He then proceeded to question George extensively, implying that the suicide attempt was a fraud.

  Casey made no reaction from where she sat, as her father was forced to recount his attempt to end his own life.

  George said he had purchased a gun and planned to track down and interrogate friends of Casey who he believed had information about his dead granddaughter. Even as George fought to compose himself, Baez kept hammering away at him. He came back to Casey’s molestation he had used at opening arguments. “You of course would never admit to molesting your child, would you, sir?” Baez prodded.

  “Sir, I would never do anything to harm my daughter in that way,” George Anthony said, fighting back tears.

  “Only in that way?” Baez taunted.

  When I asked George to describe the way he felt the day he learned Caylee’s remains had been found in the swamp off Suburban Drive, it took all he had to answer. “A deep hurt inside, tears, the whole gamut of an emotional loss, a breakdown inside of me and seeing what my wife and son went through,” he sobbed.

  I finally did move George’s suicide note into evidence during our rebuttal case, and Baez objected. The judge pointed to his questions as the very reason that he had ruled to make the letter admissible. Judge Perry permitted jurors to read the eight-page farewell George had penned to his wife and that police had discovered in the motel room in Daytona, Florida. I felt that this heart-wrenching correspondence was the single strongest piece of evidence that established that George’s involvement in the death of Caylee was unthinkable. I felt that Baez’s clumsiness in handling the issue was a major mistake on his part.

  George’s testimony was followed by the appearance of Krystal Holloway, George Anthony’s supposed mistress. Holloway went by the nickname “River Cruz.” She was a volunteer for the Casey Anthony cause but she was not with Texas EquuSearch. She said the two had met at a tent set up to hand out water bottles and such. Through her volunteering, she had become friends with Cindy and George. She said that she and George had started having an affair in the fall of 2008. It ended before his suicide attempt in January of 2009.

  She first spoke to police in 2010 about conversations between her and George. She claimed that George had supposedly told her that his granddaughter’s death had been an accident that had spiraled out of control. At that time, police had asked her if she and George were having an affair, and she said no. But her story changed after she sold it to The National Enquirer for $4,000. Then, she portrayed herself as George’s mistress.

  On the stand, George Anthony denied the affair, but Krystal had a text message from him that said, “Just thinking about you, I need you in my life.” George admitted that he had sent the text, explaining that at the time he had needed every volunteer in his life.

  On cross, Krystal said that she had lied to the police about their affair to protect George. She also said she chose The National Enquirer for her story, because she could trust the magazine to tell it honestly, and not because they were willing to pay her. She admitted that George referred to a belief that Caylee had died by accident. I got her to admit that he had never claimed any firsthand knowledge, and never indicated any involvement in disposing of his granddaughter’s body.

  George was the last witness on the defense’s list. Now came the moment when Casey was either summoned to the stand or wasn’t. In our opinion, Casey needed to take the stand to back up all of the sensational claims that Baez had made in opening. If she did, we would finally hear the story of the sexually-abused child trained to lie. The details would be horrific. Finally the public would see Casey speak and more importantly, face cross-examination. The defense requested a brief recess to consult with their client. When it returned, we learned Casey would not testify
, as I had predicted five weeks earlier. Casey 4.0—that Caylee had drowned and she had lied because of her family history—would only come from Baez.

  After thirteen days, the defense rested its case. They had thrown the kitchen sink at us, including theories about Roy Kronk and George Anthony, while attacking our forensics. They had never supported their outrageous opening statements. They had not put Casey on the stand. They had no evidence that Caylee had drowned in a pool, or that Casey was so traumatized by sexual abuse that she would not know the difference between a lie and a true story. Their forensic people put on the stand to refute our forensics people were cut to size. We were riding high. We thought the defense case was borderline ridiculous, making claims in opening that you never even supported. In my thirty years, I had never heard of such of a thing.

  In all criminal trials, the State has an opportunity to offer evidence to rebut any of the defense’s claims. In most cases, nothing is presented in rebuttal. Whether to rebut is always a difficult decision to make. By the end of a trial, you figure the jury is sick and tired of the case and just wants to get on to deliberations. You don’t want them to perceive you as wasting their time on things that seem trivial. Rebuttal is the last thing they hear, so potentially it can be important. One of the things that we felt we needed to rebut was Cindy’s testimony about the chloroform searches. Before she testified, we had already obtained her work records, which showed that she had been at the office at the times the searches had been conducted. She said it was common practice to clock in at work, then run errands and not note her time away from the office in the time records. Linda knew we needed to probe this further.

  From Cindy’s employer, Linda was able to get records of usage on Cindy’s work computer. These showed that Cindy had been on the computer at her desk and entering data at times that would have made it impossible for her to be at home as well. A vice president from Gentiva’s home office in Atlanta, John Camperlengo, was unlucky enough to be the one to come to court with the records to testify. I say unlucky because he ended up having to stay in Orlando for three days while the defense desperately tried to prevent him from testifying. They deposed him, demanded additional records, demanded to talk to the company’s IT people, and ended up trying to argue to the judge that Camperlengo’s testimony should be excluded because of the late disclosure of the information.

  Judge Perry responded that the defense should have checked out their witness’s story better before they put her on the stand. He then ruled Camperlengo’s testimony admissible and allowed him testify. On the stand, Camperlengo explained how his office’s record keeping procedures showed that Cindy could not have been home at the times she had claimed.

  Cindy’s testimony was further rebutted by the testimony of Sandra Cawn and Kevin Stenger, both of whom had searched the Anthonys’ home computer and had found no evidence that a search for the term chlorophyll had ever been conducted.

  We also spent a few moments rebutting some of Dr. Spitz’s claims. We presented the testimony of Dr. Bruce Goldberger, the forensic toxicologist who had tested the washing of the interior of the skull. He said that the material that Dr. Spitz had identified as residue of brain matter was, in fact, not organic in nature, and was most likely just dirt.

  Dr. Warren from the C.A. Pound Human Identification Laboratory was also called to dispute Dr. Spitz’s claim that Dr. G had not followed proper protocol for examination of a skull. In response to questions, Dr. Warrant explained that the skull of a child should not have been sawed open as Spitz had done. After the rebuttal, all that was left was for Casey to be found guilty, sentenced, and I would retire on a high note.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  THE PROSECUTION RESTS

  The cases had been presented. The objections had been made. I believed our case was strong. I’m sure the defense believed the same about theirs. But there was still one final drama to play out: the closing arguments.

  Early on, we’d decided how we’d order our remarks. Linda, with her brilliant opening, had gotten us off on the right foot, and I would start bringing it full circle. The prosecution always went first, so I would lead off for us. Baez and Mason would close for the defense, then Linda would do our final rebuttal to address anything the defense had said. My portion would spend a lot of time reviewing the thirty-one days that Caylee was missing, connecting Casey’s lies to specific purposes and driving home just how calculated her deception was.

  I love closing arguments. I’ve loved them ever since I first began standing in front of court. Closing arguments are the cherry on the sundae, the one thing you don’t give away and the best thing you get to do.

  As I prepared for the closing arguments, I was thinking a lot about common sense. We’d based so much of our case on common sense. Was Casey’s behavior that of a loving, caring mother? Did it make sense that she would lie to this extent having done nothing wrong? Putting aside the minutiae of the case, the forensic evidence, the detailed timelines, the intricate lies—what did common sense say about a mother who leaves her parents’ home one morning with her child, and then proceeds to live a new life with her boyfriend without the child? What does common sense tell you about that mother? My common sense told me that it meant she wanted a life without her child. My common sense told me that Casey wanted to be rid of Caylee. When you hear that a few weeks after her child had last been seen, she appeared at a tattoo parlor in high spirits and got a tattoo that said “the beautiful life” in Italian, doesn’t common sense say she got the tattoo because that’s how she feels?

  When you hear the young mother spin lie after lie after lie to everyone about her child and where she is and why no one has seen her, your common sense says she is hiding something. When you hear the manager of a tow yard, experienced crime scene technicians, an ex-cop (who happens to be the accused’s father), and a scientist who spent twenty years studying an odor tell you that the smell in the trunk was that of a dead body, common sense tells you that there was a dead body in the car. When you hear that a hair from a child was found in that same trunk with evidence indicating that it came from a corpse, common sense tells you there was a child’s dead body in that car.

  When you find that someone has searched on a computer for instructions to make chloroform and you find chloroform in the trunk of the car, common sense puts two and two together, and concludes that someone made chloroform for some purpose.

  When Casey continues to spin multiple tales to explain the child’s disappearance, even in the face of questioning by law enforcement officers, and maintains the lie even in the face of arrest, doesn’t your common sense tell you that what she is hiding is her own guilt?

  When you find the remains of a little girl in a wooded swamp surrounded by items that tie back to one house, common sense says the child was killed by someone at the house who didn’t want the body found.

  Most important, when you find the skull of a two-and-a-half-year-old girl with three pieces of duct tape wrapped from one side of the jaw to the other, covering where the nose and mouth would have been, what does your common sense tell you?

  While plotting out my remarks, it also didn’t escape me that this was the last time I’d be standing before a jury for the State of Florida. My thirtieth anniversary with the State Attorney’s Office had come and gone six months earlier. Had I chosen to sit quietly for the last couple of years, I would have been relaxing at home with my kids. Instead, I’d decided to try one last time to bring justice, to see Caylee’s trial through to the end.

  Regardless of the outcome, I never second-guessed my choice to be a part of this prosecution team. The last three years had encompassed everything that I’d loved about being a lawyer, as well as a few things that I hated about it, too. Win or lose, I was ending on a high note. But I sure as hell wanted to win. I believed our case was strong. I was ready to help prove that once and for all.

  ON JULY 3, 2011, I arrived at court ready to deliv
er my closing argument in State of Florida v. Casey Anthony. We had finished thirty-three days of testimony, two days longer than Caylee had been missing. In all, 141 people had taken the stand, some more than once. Cindy Anthony alone had testified eight times.

  As I arrived, the cameras were staked out at Camp Casey and Little Camp Casey. News trucks filled the street. My final day in front of the jury would be anything but quiet, but that was how I wanted it. From the first day I’d signed on, I’d known what I was getting myself into.

  When it came time to deliver my remarks, I felt calm. I don’t normally write my remarks out beforehand, but since I would be talking about the thirty-one days, something I was not as conversant in as Linda, I’d spent a good deal of time organizing my thoughts. I knew how I wanted everything to be structured and made myself a road map.

  I began by emphasizing the pattern of lies Casey had demonstrated when her baby was missing. One of the things I really wanted the jury to take away was that everything Casey had done had been deliberate. These were not delusions she was suffering from. These were lies for manipulation and gain, lies designed to disrupt and deceive.

  In keeping with that idea of deliberate behavior, I returned to the idea of Casey’s MySpace password, which she’d revised to “Timer55” in the days following Caylee’s disappearance. Now, that could mean any number of things, it’s true. But in many ways, the new password was just too coincidental for me to stomach. The “55” number has such a precise significance, the number of days between Caylee’s disappearance on June 16 and her third birthday on August 9. The word “Timer” reminds her that the clock is ticking whenever she logs into her account. The end was drawing near, and she needed to have a solution to the problem that she couldn’t produce Caylee. Playing off this idea of how Casey found new solutions to her lies, I brought up the “end of the hall” concept and how in each of her lies she’d reached a point where she could go no further, a point past which the truth behind the lie was inescapable, when she was officially at the end of the hall. This was the point she would reach when “Timer55” expired on Caylee’s birthday, August 9. Before then she needed to have a plan, an out—specifically, one that would allow her to get away with murder.