Unholy Sacrifice

by Robert Scott

  Debra even looked the part of a “good witch” on the stand. She wore a flowing black skirt with a white ruffled blouse.

  Debra spoke of how Taylor had instructed her to buy four movie tickets and four meals on July 30, 2000. She said she knew she was creating an alibi, “But I didn’t know what for.”

  Asked by Jewett why she had done such a thing, she answered, “Loyalty, fear, love, disbelief and denial.”

  Debra went on to say that Taylor had claimed that “he was legally crazy and that if he was ever caught, he would never be held responsible for his actions.”

  There were often contentious confrontations between Deputy DA Jewett and the various lawyers for the defense. At one point, Dawn’s lawyer pointed out that there was a huge amount of paperwork and “the devil is in the details.”

  “Among other things!” Jewett sarcastically shot back, in reference to the attorney’s client and Dawn’s possible links to satanic rituals.

  The preliminary hearing bumped along with objections and counterobjections by both sides. By February 2002, it was agreed that the actual trial would not take place before 2003, and the judge on the case would be the Honorable Mary Ann O’Malley.

  Something happened on the way to trial, however. On August 4, 2002, Martinez jail guards were going to check Taylor Helzer’s cell. Taylor barricaded the cell door with a chair. Deputies activated the SERT (Special Events Response Team), which was like a jail SWAT team. They broke into the cell and discovered a forty-foot rope that Taylor had constructed out of sheets and T-shirts. On one end of the rope, he’d hooked a few feet of fishing line, which had somehow been smuggled into the jail. On another rope, he’d attached a screw and a pencil. Some in law enforcement believed this rope was to act as a garrote. Taylor could use it to strangle a guard if he needed to do so.

  Taylor stated he planned to hang himself with the rope. That struck the SERT members as highly unlikely—it didn’t take forty feet of rope to hang oneself.

  In June 2003, Judge Mary Ann O’Malley ruled against a change-of-venue motion brought forth by Taylor’s lawyer. The defense had cited a statistic that showed when four hundred Contra Costa residents were asked about the Helzers, 67.6 knew about the crimes. Judge O’Malley, however, said that press coverage of the crimes had been “factual and not inflammatory.”

  A new date of October 20 was set for the trial to begin, but all of this was thrown off track when Dawn Godman agreed to plead guilty if the death penalty was removed from her case.

  Deputy DA Jewett told reporters, “Ms. Godman was specifically advised that because of the nature of the charges and her pleas, she would never be released. She understood that and she chose to plead guilty anyway.”

  In exchange for thirty-seven years to life, Dawn would have to testify in the trial against Taylor and Justin. This was a real coup for the prosecutor. Now he had someone within Children of Thunder to tell what had been going on all through May, June and July 2000.

  Interestingly enough, Suzanne Chapot, Taylor’s lawyer, had been angling for the very same kind of deal from Jewett for Taylor. She said, “We have three people blamed with murders and numerous offenses, and all of a sudden, three years into the case, the prosecution decides one of them shall not be given death.” Then she added that Jewett had rebuffed her attempts for a plea bargain that would have given Taylor life without parole. There was a good reason for this, at least in Harold Jewett’s eyes. He never had a doubt, since the fall of 2000, who had been the mastermind behind the Children of Thunder.

  “The agreement came as a surprise to the attorneys defending thirty-three-year-old Taylor Helzer and thirty-one-year-old Justin, who face the same charges as well as the death penalty.” Suzanne Chapot told the court, “Ms. Godman’s account of the events that occurred during the week of July 30, 2000, radically alters my strategy for Taylor’s defense,” according to the Contra Costa Times.

  She noted that Dawn’s new confession to authorities lasted seven hours and was videotaped. Daniel Cook, Justin’s lawyer, said that he had not yet seen the videotape.

  Nineteen days later, Cook stated that Justin was changing his plea to “not guilty by reason of insanity.” Cook said, “This is something that has to be done far enough in advance so that evaluations can be done.”

  January 30, 2004, rolled around with another hearing for the Helzer brothers. As they sat with their prospective lawyers at the long defense table, they seemed fairly upbeat and chatty. By contrast, Harold Jewett sat all alone on the prosecution side. He seemed very focused on his paperwork.

  Taylor’s attorney Suzanne Chapot wanted a severance of her client’s trial from that of Justin, and a continuance as well because of all the evidence that had to be read and absorbed. Judge O’Malley, however, said that March 20 was late enough for jury selection to begin, and denied the motion.

  An argument soon erupted over whether a group of jurors should be present during voir dire, or if they should be brought in individually. Jewett testily said to Chapot, “We do not think that jurors are sheep.”

  Chapot shot back, “We are not saying jurors are sheep! I resent the implications of Mr. Jewett! We have conducted ourselves with the highest professionalism.”

  Judge O’Malley chuckled wistfully and said, “Oh, I see we’re off to a good start.”

  Before jury selection began on March 20, Taylor Helzer threw everyone for a loop, including his own lawyer, over her objections. On March 5, Taylor dropped a bombshell on the court. “The announcement through his attorney that he (Taylor) wanted to plead guilty to eighteen felony counts stunned everyone in the courtroom and left the judge speechless,” reported the Contra Costa Times.

  This left Taylor without any deal in place from the prosecutor, and he still faced the death penalty. “He understands that this does nothing in terms of sentencing,” Chapot said. “He is still facing a possible death sentence. But this is still what he wants to do.”

  Daniel Cook, Justin’s lawyer, was just as surprised as everyone else. He told reporters, “This is a monumental change in the landscape. I have never been involved in or heard of a case like this.”

  Harold Jewett was very skeptical of Taylor’s motives. He prodded Taylor with questions about his sudden plea of guilty.

  Jewett: Are you doing this to assist your brother?

  Helzer: No.

  Jewett: Are you doing this to influence the order of trials?

  Helzer: I have no expectation of that. It’s just not okay for me to implicate someone else. I’m not necessarily trying to help my brother. I also have no intention of harming him.

  Olga Land, Selina Bishop’s aunt and Jennifer Villarin’s sister, told a Contra Costa Times reporter, “It felt good to hear. We already knew it, but it was good to hear him say it (that he was guilty of the crimes).”

  In light of these developments, Judge Mary Ann O’Malley agreed to a severance of Justin’s trial from Taylor’s sentencing trial. As reported in the San Francisco Chronicle, “Legal experts said the move was extremely rare but could help his brother (Justin) because separate trials generally favor defendants by allowing them to shift responsibility for the crime to their alleged accomplices.”

  Judge O’Malley ruled that Justin could not get a fair trial if his case was joined to that of an accomplice who had already pleaded guilty. Then the question arose—which trial should come first? Justin’s lawyer Cook said, “Justin should be tried last so he could testify to his brother’s childhood and close relationship.”

  Taylor weighed into the argument as well, saying he would waive his right to protect himself from self-incrimination and testify, but only if the matter of the death penalty had been resolved. In essence, he was trying to get in a “backdoor” agreement of a life sentence.

  Daniel Cook was adamant about Taylor’s knowledge of events. He told reporters, “No one, and I mean no one, can tell it (the story) the way he can.”

  Jewett responded, “This court has to examine, frankly, what is loo
king a lot like gamesmanship, whether or not Taylor Helzer would be a benefit to his brother if he testifies. I’d be happy to cross-examine Taylor Helzer right now.”

  That didn’t happen, but Suzanne Chapot weighed in as well. She said, “Taylor wants to help his brother. He takes responsibility for this.”

  In the end, Judge O’Malley decided that Justin’s trial would come first. It would consist of three phases. The first phase was to determine innocence or guilt. If Justin was found guilty, then there would be a sanity phase. If he was found to be sane at the time of the crimes, there would be a third phase determining punishment.

  Jury selection began for Justin Helzer’s trial in late March 2004. Even before this event, Deputy DA Jewett and Daniel Cook argued over the preamble to be read to jurors about Justin’s alleged crimes. Jewett wanted a lengthy version, and Cook wanted a much shorter one. There were also huge differences about showing the jurors photographs of the nude, bloody bodies of Jennifer Villarin and James Gamble. Cook thought these were too inflammatory, while Jewett said they showed the brutality of the crimes. Judge O’Malley ruled that the photos would stay in.

  Judge O’Malley did side with Cook on the matter of Taylor Helzer’s supposedly feigned mental illness and what he had told Keri Furman about it. O’Malley said this was too remote from Justin’s trial to be admitted and that it should be a part of Taylor’s trial and not Justin’s.

  More legal wrangling followed on March 25. One area of contention was Taylor’s ties to Wicca and witchcraft. Cook wanted all of this excluded, saying that Justin was no part of it, but Jewett alluded to both brothers’ relationship with Debra McClanahan and Taylor’s statement to Justin’s friend Mike Henderson that he was a warlock at the Saddlewood home. Then he added, “Justin followed Taylor’s prophecies into departures from reality. Intentions and motivations are a part of this case. They (Justin and Taylor) were with a self-proclaimed witch.”

  Cook responded, “We already know the scenario with witchcraft. Justin never said he was a warlock.”

  Judge O’Malley finally ruled, “I can see that there might be a possibility on this issue. We’ll have to wait and see.” She left the door open on the issue of witchcraft admissibility. Then she cautioned, “This will be a fine line. Everyone is on notice about this.”

  There was even contention between the prosecution and defense on when jurors would fill out the questionnaire. Cook wanted jurors to air their feelings about the burden of proof before filling out the questionnaire. Jewett responded that if that happened, “they might answer the questionnaire with all the frivolity of answering questions at a cocktail party. It is vital that they be mindful of their civic duties.”

  Cook declared, “I cannot imagine that anyone coming into this room will mistake this for a cocktail party! What I want to see is if someone has a difference of experience [about the court system], and if they cannot put that aside, there is a danger that people will conceal their true feelings on a questionnaire.”

  Judge O’Malley responded to Cook by saying, “I see your point. But I have to say, even after having questioned hundreds of potential jurors, I’m surprised how naive people can be about a courtroom. I’ve had people say it was a good experience after eight weeks of trial, and they certainly didn’t feel that way when they came in. I think the questionnaire is so specific, we’ll get a lot of honest opinions. They will be forced to write down what they feel.”

  On April 5, 2004, the jury selection began in Justin Helzer’s trial with a jury pool of 350 people. The possibility of a change of venue still hung in the air, even while this was going on. Daniel Cook told reporters, “If we are confronted with what we think is prejudice created by experience of the media, then we might seek to renew our request for a change of venue.”

  In the matter of publicity, one unforeseen situation was helping deflect a lot of media attention that might have been there otherwise. Across the bay in San Mateo County, the Scott Peterson trial was under way. It drew news agencies from around the country. Judge Mary Ann O’Malley, by contrast, would not allow any cameras, video or still to be in her courtroom during witness testimony, and only very limited use of a still camera during recesses.

  The Contra Costa Times noted that “maybe we’re in the shadow of [the Peterson trial] right now.”

  Shadows or not, the process of culling potential jurors from the pool was lengthy and arduous. After dismissing many for hardship reasons, the ones who made it past that still had to answer a questionnaire that had 130 questions. As the potential jurors were whittled down from 350 to the final twelve (two men and ten women), with four alternates, Cook told them, “All I want of you is to go back into that room when you deliberate, with an open mind. I’ll tell you right now, if there is a guilty verdict in this case, you will be asked if he is sane or insane.”

  One potential juror replied when questioned, “I think anyone who commits a murder must be insane.”

  Cook replied, “I agree with that.”

  Cook also asked jurors if they thought an insanity plea was just a gimmick to escape the death penalty. Some of them did, and others didn’t. One woman said, “You have to take it one step at a time. You can’t be looking at the end result.”

  This was the kind of juror that both Cook and Jewett were looking for.

  At one point, Justin looked straight at a pretty young blond woman who was being questioned. A short time later, she looked straight back at him and said, “It’s a personal thing now. But I honestly believe I can keep an open mind.”

  The topic of gruesome photos as evidence came up, and Jewett said, “I have to know if viewing them will be a problem. You have to look at them, but they’re horrible.”

  Cook also addressed this issue. He said, “I need to know if your experience would be—they’d be so troubling, you couldn’t focus after that.”

  Other issues came up as well. One woman’s grandparents were Mormon. Cook told all the potential jurors, “There are some people who think the Latter-Day Saints are terrible. Others think it is the greatest thing on earth. I have to ask how you feel about the Church.”

  Cook also touched on the death penalty issue. He said, “In California, only people who commit first-degree murder under special circumstances are eligible for the death penalty. But not all of them get the death penalty. As jurors, you must decide which ones should, and which ones don’t.”

  Cook’s lengthy questioning of potential jurors began to reach the point of repetition. Frustrated by the lengthy process, Judge O’Malley told him, “We have to get through twenty-four people today, not twelve people today.”

  Five days later, the process was still going on, and Jewett said, “The decision whether a person lives or dies is a personal one. If we reach that phase, by that time you would have been here three months. Then it won’t be an abstraction. I am compelled to ask you, could you really impose the penalty on Justin Helzer? Could you?”

  Most of the jurors looked directly at Justin sitting at the defense table. He did not move a muscle as the jurors wrestled with that question.

  Jewett’s question was more than just rhetorical. One by one, he asked the potential jurors if they could impose the death penalty on Justin Helzer. One person answered emphatically that she could not. She was eventually let go.

  Even Charles Hoehn, Justin’s other defense attorney, asked the potential jurors, “Are you right for this trial? If not, now is the time to say so.”

  On April 29, 2004, two men and ten women, and four alternates, had come to grips about whether or not they could impose death on Justin. They were no longer potential jurors—they were actual jurors in the case of The People of California v. Justin Alan Helzer.

  Daniel Cook told reporters, “This case is so unusual, it’s going to be difficult for everyone involved in it. This is an enormous undertaking.”

  Deputy DA Harold Jewett agreed. He said, “It has more evidence than other trials and some unique qualities. We’ve got a long road ahead.
”

  Just as everyone predicted, the following months of spring and summer 2004 would be focused within four walls of Department 4 of the Bray Courthouse in Martinez. By the time they were done, their lives, those of the victims’ family members, and that of Justin Helzer, would be changed forever.

  CHAPTER 13

  The Forum

  A trial is an odd combination of high drama, tedium, hard work and incredible theater. Unlike theater, however, the ending is never predictable, nor is the script. The law keeps everything within certain boundaries, but human emotions on both sides of the table, within the jury and within the gallery come into play. In the four-month ordeal that would be the Justin Helzer trial, the gallery became almost a second home for several residents of Contra Costa County. Coming from different backgrounds, age groups and viewpoints, they would form a bond not only among themselves, but with the victims’ families, and even to a degree with Justin’s mother and sister, and the attorneys and Judge O’Malley.

  One of these court observers was Martinez resident Roger Riddle. Riddle was not a stranger to violence—he had been an infantryman in Vietnam during the worst years of the conflict. He’d not only seen his share of horror there, he’d been the victim of a violent crime when he lived in Vallejo, California. An intruder came into his house, knocked him unconscious, robbed the house and left him for dead. Luckily, a friend stopped by the next day and found him still alive. He was rushed to the hospital and recovered.

  When asked why he was attending the Helzer trials, Riddle answered, “The crimes were so horrendous, I wanted to see these guys in person. I’d seen the crimes in the newspaper and on television and I’d been to other trials before. But I’d never seen anything like this.”

  Retirement community residents Ray and Mabel Carberry also became faithful court observers. Ray was an ex-navy man, who had been in ports around the world, and Mabel’s son-in-law was a deputy district attorney in a different county. They were drawn to a trial that was sure to be very dramatic. Some of the events had happened not far from where they lived. Even more strangely, they were married on the very same weekend, July 29, 2000, when the Helzer brothers kidnapped the Stinemans.