Rest in Power

by Sybrina Fulton

  Don West, a pale, bald longtime Orlando defense attorney, had come to Florida to start a private law practice in the 1980s.

  “Before he joined the Zimmerman team, West had already handled some of the most high-profile criminal cases in the Orlando area in the past 20 years,” reported The Orlando Sentinel. “In 1998, he served as co-counsel and helped Joseph ‘Crazy Joe’ Spaziano get off death row. Spaziano is the former motorcycle gang member who was convicted of raping and murdering an Orlando teenager, whose body was found in an Altamonte Springs dump. West also represented Orlando music mogul Lou Pearlman on bank-, mail- and wire-fraud charges…”

  Other than being paid—the killer had $150,000 remaining in his account from donations to his website—the Orlando attorneys would reap national exposure from the case.

  Compared to the defense, our team was low-key but solid. Overseen by Angela Corey, the prosecutors were Bernardo “Bernie” de la Rionda, John Guy, and Richard Mantei.

  Bernie was born in Cuba but came to the United States at four years old, when his parents put him onto a cargo plane to escape the Castro regime. Raised by his grandparents in Miami, “he never saw his parents again,” according to the Orlando Sentinel.

  As the lead prosecutor, he had a reputation for being tough on crime, sometimes emotional in his court presentations, and aiming for the most severe punishments: his county accounted for a quarter of the death sentences in the state, even though by population it was only five percent of the state according to media reports. Assistant State Attorney John Guy had tried what the media estimated at a hundred cases since becoming a prosecutor in 1993. Richard Mantei had also prosecuted a number of high-profile murder cases.

  O’Mara assured Judge Jessica Recksiedler, as well as the media, that his client would plead not guilty, a move we more than expected. And although O’Mara stressed he would attempt to get his client out of jail as soon as possible, we knew he would remain behind bars at least until the bond hearing.

  APRIL 18

  Two days before the scheduled bond hearing, Judge Recksiedler announced she was removing herself from the case due to an apparent conflict of interest—a move requested by O’Mara. Recksiedler’s husband, Jason Recksiedler, was a partner at the firm of Mark NeJame, who had recommended O’Mara to the killer and his family. Judge Kenneth Lester, Jr., was immediately tapped as her replacement—a good development, our attorney Natalie Jackson told us.

  “He’s one of the smartest judges on the bench, but also one who makes up his own mind,” she told us. “You know Judge Lester is going to read the file and know all of the information in that file.”

  She gave us a quick rundown on his background. He was a fifteen-year veteran of the court. He’d served in combat in Vietnam. He went by the book—he addressed lawyers formally using their full names.

  APRIL 20

  The first time we came face-to-face with the man who killed our son was at his April 20 bond hearing in the Seminole County Courthouse in Sanford, Florida. It was about nine in the morning, and Sybrina, our attorneys, Jahvaris, and I stood in a little side room in the court’s hallway, and we prayed.

  We did this before every major event—we’d ask for strength, composure, and guidance, so that we could keep ourselves together. But the prayer was also an affirmation that no matter what we did, our faith was in God’s ultimate authority to render justice, no matter what happened in the court that day.

  “Keep cool, Tracy,” Crump said as we took our seats in the courtroom. He could tell that I was on edge, he told me, because he noticed my legs were bouncing up and down even when I was sitting still. My whole body seemed to be shaking.

  The hearing was to determine if Judge Lester would allow the defendant to be released on bond. The only people in court were the defense lawyers, the prosecutors, and us. And of course the defendant. The killer’s family did not attend. They would testify by phone due to alleged threats to their life and safety.

  The killer entered the courtroom from the left wing, escorted by two police officers. He wore a dark suit and a gray tie with restraints around his wrists that were chained to his waist, instead of the traditional handcuffs that would have bound his hands together. And there were no cuffs on his ankles. So he was able to walk into court like a regular citizen, which Crump later told me would have been usual had a jury been present. The shock appeared to have worn off since his first court appearance. He was clean-shaven. He took a seat at the defense table next to Mark O’Mara, where he sat quietly with a neutral expression, aware but not engaged.

  And inside I raged.

  The man who killed my son was now sitting only twenty feet away from me. Sybrina sat beside me, and Crump was nearby at the end of the bench in the first row. There was a wooden divider between my son’s killer and me, designed to block people in the audience from the counsel tables. And the man who killed my son was sitting right there.

  Before he was called to take the stand, I sat there looking at him as he stared blankly ahead, and once again I could feel my body starting to shake.

  “Keep your cool, keep your composure,” Crump whispered. “Tracy, please make sure that we don’t do anything inappropriate here.”

  Crump always reminded Sybrina and me to keep our emotions under control no matter what happened. Because we would be judged as much as—if not more than—the man who had been arrested and was about to stand trial. We were parents of the victim, but we were black parents of a black teenager—whatever sympathy the general public had for us would vanish if we ever truly showed all the anger and frustration we felt. But I felt tested like never before in the presence of the killer. My neck tingled. My hands shook. All I could think of was destroying the man who took my son’s life.

  “God is in control, and we don’t need to help God,” Crump whispered in my ear. “God is going to make sure that this wrong is made right; we don’t have to do anything more at this point.”

  But I wanted more; I wanted revenge.

  As these thoughts bubbled up inside me, I tried my best to keep them at bay. I looked over at Sybrina, who was beside me. She seemed calm, just rocking back and forth quietly. She held her Bible, silently praying.

  Judge Lester began speaking.

  “Good morning,” he said. “Let’s call case number 2012-1083, State of Florida versus George Zimmerman.”

  Attorney Mark O’Mara was allowed to speak first. He handed over his client’s passport to the court and then called his first character witness, the defendant’s wife, Shellie.

  Testifying by phone, Shellie Zimmerman’s voice could be heard on the court’s loudspeakers as she was sworn in. After receiving her promise that she’d do everything in her power to guarantee that her husband made his court appearances, O’Mara began asking Shellie questions about her family’s financial status in order to determine the bond amount.

  “Are you working presently?” O’Mara asked.

  “No, I’m not,” Shellie said.

  “…what do you do with your time?”

  “I’m a nursing student.”

  “Is that a full-time endeavor presently?”

  “Yes it is…”

  “So you’re not earning any income presently?”

  “Correct.”

  O’Mara continued asking questions: Did they own their home? (“No.”) Did they have assets that could be sold to pay for a bond?

  “None that I know of,” she said.

  “Are you of any financial means where you could assist in those costs?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  Shellie Zimmerman again confirmed that she and her husband’s family would take on the responsibility “to scrape up anything that we possible can” to meet the conditions of his bond. She also discussed the family’s fear that some harm might come to her or her husband should information about when he would be released be made public. She maintained that George Zimmerman was not a danger to society.

  I held my raging thoughts in my head, b
ut I felt like destruction.

  Then, Bernie de la Rionda began his cross-examination of the defendant’s wife.

  “You stated that you don’t believe your husband is a danger to the community. Is that correct?” de la Rionda asked.

  “That is correct,” Shellie replied.

  “You are aware of what he’s been charged with, that is, second-degree murder. Correct?”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “That is a crime of violence. Would you not agree?”

  “I agree…”

  “And, ma’am, would you not agree that your husband had a violent history?”

  “No, I do not agree with that.”

  “So, were you not aware when he got arrested for a violent crime in Orange County?”

  “I’m aware of that situation.”

  “And did that not involve him striking or in some way battering a law enforcement officer?”

  “No.”

  “Did you talk to him about it?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Did he tell you that he was arrested and charged with various crimes, battery to a law enforcement officer and obstructing justice?”

  “Yes, he has informed me of those charges…”

  “Did you read the arrest document to that charge, ma’am?”

  “No.”

  De la Rionda then submitted the arrest document to the court and to O’Mara, and read the pertinent parts to Shellie.

  “ ‘I identified myself as a state police officer and showed Zimmerman my badge and asked him to leave the area,’ ” de la Rionda read. “ ‘He stated, “I don’t care who you are.” I again asked Zimmerman to leave. He stated the F-word and he said “you.” At that time I attempted to escort Zimmerman from the interview room and he shrugged away from me and pushed my arms away with his hands. After a short struggle he was placed in handcuffs and detained.’ ”

  Shellie said she had discussed the incident with her husband, but continued to deny it proved a history of violence. De la Rionda then asked about an injunction filed against the killer, reading from the injunction: “ ‘He picked me up and threw me on the bed. I got up to leave and he grabbed me again…’ ”

  “You weren’t aware of that incident?” de la Rionda asked.

  “I am aware he had to protect himself from being attacked from her,” Shellie said. “And there was blood drawn on him from her, and he also filed an injunction against her.”

  De la Rionda asked, “Now, so despite those two incidents, the prior arrest involving a law enforcement officer and the incident involving the injunction, you still assess or determine or tell the court that he is not a violent person or a threat to the community?”

  “Absolutely, he is not a violent person, nor a threat to the community,” said Shellie Zimmerman, of the same man who, she would later claim during a 911 call on September 9, 2013, accosted her father.

  After O’Mara questioned Shellie Zimmerman, the next witness was called: the killer’s father, Robert. He also testified by phone, answering the same questions about ensuring that his son would show up to court and stated that he would take out a second mortgage on his home if the court required it for his son’s release.

  “Do you believe that your son is a violent person?” O’Mara asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Robert answered.

  “Can you expound on that?”

  “I have never known him to be violent at all, unless he was provoked, and then he would turn the other cheek.”

  —

  We couldn’t believe what we were hearing. This man who shot our son was the type to “turn his cheek” when provoked?

  De la Rionda soon stood to cross-examine Robert Zimmerman.

  “You mentioned your son was not a violent person, is that correct?” de la Rionda asked.

  “Absolutely,” Robert said.

  “In fact, if I wrote it correctly, you said that you’ve never seen him be violent unless he’s provoked, and even then, you say, he turned the other cheek, is that correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “You’re aware of what he’s charged with in terms of murder, correct? And you were not a witness…there to see what happened, correct?”

  “No, I was not.”

  “You are aware of his prior arrests involving violence, are you not?”

  “I am aware of an incident involving alcoholic beverage control officers in plain clothes…”

  “Did you discuss that matter of his prior arrest with your son?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And did he tell you in that particular case he turned the other cheek?”

  “Well, he did. A friend of his was grabbed and thrown up against a wall by some people in civilian clothes.”

  De la Rionda had already established Robert’s past as a magistrate before continuing with questions about the killer’s prior arrest.

  “Did he tell you that they asked him to leave and he told them ‘I don’t care who you are’ when the officer identified himself as a law enforcement officer?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever read the actual arrest file?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Were you not curious out of being a magistrate in terms of whether your son was telling you the truth or just for curiosity’s sake?”

  “I never questioned whether my son was telling me the truth.”

  Next to take the stand, again by phone, was the defendant’s mother, Gladys.

  “Did he discuss with you his arrest at the hands of Alcohol, Firearms and Tobacco officers?” O’Mara asked.

  “Yes, he did. That was a long time ago,” Gladys answered.

  And she said the same thing as the others: George was pushed, and merely wanted to defend a friend.

  Hearing the killer’s family members speak about him in positive ways was sickening and disturbing. My stomach churned. Again I wanted to stand up and scream, and the only thing that kept me in my chair were Crump’s words: “You will be judged as much as—if not more than—George Zimmerman.”

  Bernie de la Rionda cross-examined Gladys Zimmerman briefly before dismissing her.

  O’Mara called his next witness: Dale Gilbreath, the bearded lead investigator with the state attorney’s office with thirty-six years’ experience. He signed the probable-cause affidavit with co-investigator T. C. O’Steen that said Trayvon “was profiled by George Zimmerman,” who “assumed Martin was a criminal.”

  Disregarding the dispatcher’s request not to pursue Trayvon, the shooter, who said, “These assholes, they always get away,” and also said “These fucking punks,” “confronted Martin and a struggle ensued,” read the affidavit.

  “Witnesses heard people arguing and what sounded like a struggle,” the affidavit continued. “During this time period witnesses heard numerous calls for help and some of these were recorded in 911 calls to police. Trayvon Martin’s mother has reviewed the 911 calls and identified the voice crying for help as Trayvon Martin’s voice.”

  “If I say to you the word ‘peanut butter,’ what do you think?” O’Mara asked Dale Gilbreath on the witness stand.

  “Jelly.”

  “Okay, Moe, Larry, and—”

  “Curly.”

  “When I say the word ‘profiling,’ what do you think?”

  “I believe you’re applying a predetermined thought pattern to a set of circumstances.”

  “No other word comes to mind when I say ‘profiled’ to you?”

  “I gave you my answer, sir…”

  For some reason, it seemed, O’Mara wanted to get the investigator to introduce the idea of racial profiling. I didn’t understand why.

  O’Mara continued to pull apart the affidavit, down to its smallest details.

  De la Rionda cross-examined Gilbreath, recounting many of the events the night Trayvon was killed before also parsing through the affidavit.

  “Why did you use the word ‘confronted,’ sir?” de la Rionda ask
ed Gilbreath.

  “Because Zimmerman met with Martin and it was compiling the facts that we had along with the witness statements of the argumentative voices and the authoritative voice being given from one of the witnesses and then the struggle that ensued that came from several witnesses.”

  De la Rionda soon rested, but O’Mara had one counterattack.

  “So do you know who started the fight,” he asked.

  “Do I know?”

  “Right.”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any evidence that supports who may have started the fight?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Zimmerman gave a statement that very night, did he not?”

  “Yes.”

  “And within that statement, he said that he saw somebody, he was concerned, he got out of his car, he called nonemergency, and began to go towards the person. Is that paraphrasing but pretty correct so far?”

  “Paraphrasing, yes.”

  O’Mara continued to question Gilbreath, getting him to admit that although he had no evidence as to who started the fight, and while he had never spoken with George Zimmerman himself, Zimmerman did claim that he was the victim and that it was Trayvon who had “confronted him and assaulted him” in the initial interview conducted by the Sanford Police Department within an hour and a half of my son’s death.

  “Do you have any evidence to contradict or that conflicts with his contention given before he knew any of the evidence that would conflict with the fact that he stated ‘I walked back to my car’?”

  “No….”

  “Any evidence that conflicts any eyewitnesses, anything that conflicts with the contention that Mr. Martin assaulted first?”

  “That contention that was given to us by him, other than filling in the figures being one following or chasing the other one, as to who threw the first blow, no.”

  “Now, you know, as one of the chief investigators, that is the primary focus in this case, is it not?”

  “There are many focuses in this case…,” he said.

  “Nothing further.”

  The confrontational back-and-forth took me by surprise. De la Rionda then stood. “Mr. Gilbreath, I didn’t know we were going to be trying the case,” he said. “I apologize. I want to add some questions. You had reviewed or other members of the team had reviewed [the defendant’s] interviews, is that not true?”