Lethal Intent

by Sue Russell

  John Tanner zeroed in on a gap in logic. ‘If it was self-defence, if you really feel Mr Mallory was self-defence, how would that jeopardise Tyria Moore?’

  ‘Because Tyria Moore was interested in making the five hundred million dollars that … has already been offered her.’

  She had just cited a truly ludicrous figure, but she went on to claim that the people involved in books and movies needed her blood in order to get their money. Her voice rose in anger. ‘She doesn’t want to say it’s self-defence, because I believe she is involved with millions of dollars for books and movies. And she doesn’t want my acquittal, because if I get convicted, she gets multi-millions.

  ‘So does Mr Horzepa, whatever his name is, Munster, and a lot of you other detectives and police officers that are involved in this. And also, that her family is really … she loves her family to the max. Her family’s rejecting her. That’s tearing her up because I know her to the max.’

  Mr Tanner was getting to Lee, who was intelligent enough to realise that she was not gaining any points at this stage. Suddenly, she went for sympathy. And she accused Ty of having amnesia. Ty was acting like she didn’t even know how long they were in the Zodiac Bar the first night they met, acting like she didn’t know where Lee lived. Ty knew she was living in a car because she’d just broken up with her former female lover, Toni. Tyria, she sniped, was lying to keep herself from being an ‘accessory to the fact’ about everything.

  Lee had a capper: ‘I’ve got two hundred and eighty-nine lies in her deposition that she gave. Just flat-out lies.’

  Was there anything else Ty knew about Mr Mallory that would incriminate her in his death? the prosecutor asked. Lee backpedalled: Ty merely knew a little bit about the murder. ‘She’s always telling me, “Don’t tell me the rest or I won’t pass the polygraph!”’

  Ty had witnessed the bruises and signs of her attack, Lee contended. She’d only been covering for Ty when she told Larry Horzepa that Ty didn’t know anything, she said, breaking into a wan smile.

  So she’d lied to Larry Horzepa?

  ‘Yeah.’

  Tanner next tied Lee in knots in another area full of contradictions. Had she told Ty she’d found a guy in the woods or that she’d killed a guy in the woods? And exactly when had she told her what she told her? Lee complained that Ty didn’t believe her when she described what had happened and said it had been fourteen days after Mr Mallory’s murder when she told her. When she knew she would probably see Mr Mallory’s car on television and recognise it, she’d said, ‘Remember the day you saw bruises on my neck?’

  (This delay in telling Ty represented yet another deviation from Lee’s ‘I killed a man today’ version, which was also what Ty had testified had happened.)

  The picture Lee painted of her and Ty veered back and forth between one of loving trust and closeness, and one reflecting deep anger at Ty’s betrayal.

  ‘So you didn’t even tell her this rape story until two weeks after it happened?’ John Tanner prodded.

  ‘I was scared to, because I didn’t want her to worry or get scared. She loved me very badly, and I loved her very badly. I didn’t just want to sit here and tell her what happened.’

  ‘And then you say that you told her all these details about the alcohol and the anal rape and the tying up and all of that?’

  No, she hadn’t, Lee insisted. But she and Ty did have a tight bond: ‘Very close. Like two peas in a pod. Right arm, left arm, moved together. We loved each other very much.’

  What broke up this trusting union? Mr Tanner enquired. Lee responded that after seeing the police sketch on TV of two females, she told Ty she’d have to leave.

  She’d talked to the investigators for Ty’s sake, to prove her love, but had come to realise Ty was working with them to trap her, and now she knew Ty wouldn’t help her out. ‘I never knew she had a black heart.’

  Inevitably, Tanner pointed out that not once during the eleven phone calls had Lee said a single word about being raped. That was because she was totally focused on clearing Ty. Tanner wanted to clarify that although Ty knew some of what happened she didn’t participate in any way.

  ‘She knows that I was raped, not in detail, but she knows I was defending myself.’

  More than sixty-five times in those calls, Tanner said, Lee had said it was either mistaken identity or that Ty was innocent. It was a tactic, Lee responded, just in case Tyria was lying to her about the calls not being taped. She didn’t want to say anything to put Ty in jeopardy.

  ‘Or yourself?’ Mr Tanner sniffed.

  And hadn’t she more than twenty-five times suggested Ty lie for her? Hadn’t she briefed Ty to tell the truth but not to mention her?

  ‘I don’t recall that. If I did, then I said next that it’s a very confusing situation. It’s a very intense, scary, shocking moment… .’

  Those casual calls to her best friend weren’t shocking, Mr Tanner scoffed. And since she’d suspected the police were listening in, ‘Wouldn’t those calls have been the ideal time to have said, “You know I had to do it because I was raped so brutally and had to defend myself”? Wouldn’t that have been something to say for the police to hear?’

  Lee’s response was that she didn’t want to say Ty knew anything and to make her an accessory. Tanner quickly torpedoed that argument. Saying that Ty knew about the murders had been almost the first thing out of Lee’s mouth. He was on a roll by then.

  Lee had been quick to suggest Ty’s greed regarding a movie and book deal, but hadn’t she herself signed a contract with filmmaker Jackelyn Giroux?

  ‘We have a lawsuit going on,’ Lee retorted. ‘We are filing a lawsuit.’

  ‘You talked about if any money was to be made out of this, you’d like Ty to have it?’ Tanner persisted.

  ‘No,’ Lee shot back. ‘If I said anything to her, in a letter … which I can’t understand how I could have wrote her while I was in jail—because as soon as I got done talking to the detectives, they stuck me in solitary confinement, lockdown, shoving pills down me, and got me messed up on drugs, forcing me. And I didn’t have any pen or pencil or paper to write. And you people are saying these letters came in January in jail. I don’t remember writing any letters whatsoever.’

  ‘Who was this that was forcing drugs down you?’

  Tanner’s question was calm. He didn’t have to do anything. Lee was doing quite well on her own.

  ‘They had me on Vistaril. They had me where I didn’t have any commissary. Not even a Bible or books, nothing to read … they’d come up and say, “Do you want your pills so they’ll help you go to sleep?” Of course I took them to sleep. Vistaril, I was taking 2,800 mg a week, sixteen pills a day. Almost killed me. They almost killed me.’

  As if all that were not dramatic enough, she added that it was the detective’s idea.

  ‘You’re saying that Detective Horzepa was forcing you to take pills?’ John Tanner asked, incredulously.

  ‘It was the plan, I believe,’ she said coolly.

  John Tanner could no longer tolerate such blatant misrepresentation by the almost-cheerful star of the prosecution’s explosive videotape. Had she seen the video? Did she see herself shaking? Hadn’t she been smoking?

  She’d been shaking like a leaf, very nervous and cold, Ms Wuornos replied. That’s why she’d been wearing a detective’s jacket.

  Tanner moved on to point out that she’d never once said on the telephone that Mr Mallory had tried to rob her. Lee had an answer for that, too. Why should she? All she was thinking about was clearing Ty.

  Hadn’t she also said she was planning to sue law enforcement? The defendant’s response was casual. ‘Who knows? I was withdrawing so bad from alcohol … I was so confused and so scared about Tyria that I couldn’t function properly. I don’t know what I was saying. I was totally in another … I was in Pluto. Scared out of my wits. Caring about Tyria, loved her to the max. Must have told her twenty-five times a day, “I love you.”’

  Taking a
few more swipes at Tyria, Lee said she’d supported her for three and a half years. Tanner spotted another contradiction and pounced on it. Then why had Lee told detectives that Tyria did nothing but work from morning to night? Lee’s confusion was now glaringly apparent. She stumbled to keep her stories straight, as Tanner put it.

  The prosecutor switched back to the subject of prostitution, suggesting that she was in it for the money; good money. Lee agreed. He elicited her price list: $30 for head, $35 for straight sex, $40 for half and half, $100 an hour. She could make anywhere from $600 to $1,000 a week then? Tanner asked. And it all went on Tyria, buying her fancy clothes, Lee came back. (This raised a chuckle in the gallery. Ty in fancy clothes?)

  Lee said she was a prostitute because she didn’t have the qualifications for a normal job. She’d never been able to hold one down; had always been fired. And she liked prostitution? Tanner asked. Lee admitted to liking the sex and some of the clients. Some became like brothers. But it was a job. Tanner’s next question was asked in a voice laden with sarcasm. ‘It was kind of a rolling road party, wasn’t it?’

  For a moment, Lee almost laughed at the idea. But she went on to answer seriously. ‘No, because you have to watch yourself and be careful and keep a level head on your shoulders. It’s a job. It’s not, like, super-exciting.’

  Lee told Tanner that she armed herself purely for protection. She’d been raped many times: three times while with Tyria. (Tears of sympathy rolled down Arlene Pralle’s cheeks.) She’d needed to defend herself five times. She’d needed to defend herself before Richard Mallory, but couldn’t because she didn’t have a weapon.

  So, she was saying that if she’d had a gun she would have used it earlier? Tanner enquired. She didn’t know. Every situation was different. How could she answer that? she complained. But she tried.

  ‘If it’s very violent and physical, I’m going to defend myself, yes. Everybody has a right to defend themselves. That’s what I did. These were violent, violent rapes, and the other ones I had to beg for my life. I had a double-barrel shotgun against my head. I had a .357 magnum against my head.’

  Despite prostitution being illegal, she defended her career, saying three million other women do it. She was kind and nice in her work, and even talked to the men about religion and Jesus coming soon.

  Did she think it was OK to violate the law if a lot of other people did? Tanner wanted to know.

  ‘Everybody prostitutes, even housewives. And so do the men. They’re out there, they’re the ones with the money, putting it on the hood, saying to us prostitutes, you know, “Here we are.” If they’d keep their money in their back pockets and their penis in their pants, they wouldn’t be feeding prostitution. They’re the ones who feed it. We’re just out there making our money.’

  She wasn’t hurting anyone by selling her body. It was a job, and if anyone was the victim, she was. Mr Mallory had no reason to rape her. She didn’t provoke him or any of these men. They hurt her. She came close to death so many times.

  Just as she was on the brink of launching into a speech about the years taking their toll, Tanner cut her off with another question. Lee’s team objected before she could answer his loaded probe on whether she was the victim in every case where she’d hurt someone. He rephrased it: ‘I’m only trying to ask you why you killed six other men.’

  Lee retorted that she was only there on trial for one man. Richard Mallory. One trial. Tanner went on to ask about her prostitution clients, and who propositioned whom, but when he mentioned the previous day’s witness, Bobby Lee Copas, Lee claimed she had never set eyes on him before in her life. She believed Copas had been put up to it by Jackye Giroux to get some media attention.

  He wasn’t the kind of guy she mixed with. She didn’t go to truck stops; truckers were too dirty. Nor would her gun have fitted in her purse the way he’d said it did. She carried it in her tote bag. And she would never have dealt with someone that fat. He was lying.

  Mr Tanner asked whether she’d practised how quickly she could pull her weapon, quickdraw style? Lee laughed sarcastically. ‘Oh, yes! I doubt that!’

  She’d never done that in her life. When she got home from work she was far too tired for anything like that, she said disgustedly.

  She smiled when asked if she was aware that it was against the law to carry a firearm. Then, full of righteous indignation, she explained that as a convicted felon she was denied the right to buy a firearm legally. Otherwise she would have bought one. It was obviously a pet subject. A lot of nice, decent people are convicted felons coming out of prison, she continued. A lot of them turn to the Lord. They have to have some way to protect themselves.

  Somehow, she’d cast felons in the curious role of deprived citizens.

  ‘You’re even a victim of the law?’ Tanner asked.

  ‘We can’t use our hands. That’s what I’m saying. You have to have a weapon. Or are you trying to tell us convicted felons to not defend ourselves? We have to have a way to defend ourselves. ’

  ‘You think that all convicted felons … should be allowed to carry guns?’

  ‘A lot of them do turn to the Lord. And a lot of them are very decent people. Very straightforward people. So, they broke the law. Everybody breaks the law. I bet you do too.’

  ‘And some of them shoot men to death in cold blood, don’t they?’ ventured Tanner, his voice rising.

  ‘No, they don’t! I didn’t shoot anybody in cold blood.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘I don’t have the heart to shoot someone in cold blood!’

  ‘Did you ever shoot a man in the back of the head because he was gurgling?’ Mr Tanner said forcefully.

  ‘Objection!’ cried Tricia Jenkins.

  ‘Sustained,’ ruled the judge.

  As Lee’s counsel fought to quieten her, David Damore chimed in, then Billy Nolas, prompting Judge Blount to actually dispatch a deputy to bring him a roll of masking tape which he threatened to use on the two lawyers.

  (Was the judge in the habit of taping the mouths of unruly counsel? the journalists later asked. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ Blount said with a wry chuckle.)

  Moving on, John Tanner began zeroing in on Lee’s inconsistencies. She’d earlier accused Mallory of being unwilling to unzip his pants. That didn’t gel with this latest Visine/rubbing alcohol /rape account. Lee was indignant.

  ‘I told you guys about anal screwing with Mallory in the beginning! ’

  She complained about having been questioned improperly in the confession. She’d been on a five-week ‘royal binge of drinking since Ty left me and I was all bummed out about her leaving me’. The drink had given her blackouts. She was incoherent, in shock, interested only in clearing Tyria Moore, and now she was getting just as confused again! (As indeed were those listening.) She tried asserting that the complaint about Mallory being unwilling to unzip his pants referred not to immediately before the shooting but to earlier on in the ordeal.

  Time and again, Tanner drove home the inconsistencies between Lee’s convoluted stories, the failings in logic. And time and again she blamed them on her total incoherence, her hysteria, her distress. Emotions that were glaringly absent during her confession. The jury could not fail to notice the great discrepancy between Lee’s visible demeanour in the videotape and what she was asking them to believe.

  Far from incoherent, tearful and ‘freaking out’, she’d seemed for the most part rather cheerful, almost to be enjoying herself. And far more concerned with how detectives had found her than awash with remorse for her victims. Tanner asked about her nine-shot .22 gun. She’d thrown it away, she claimed, as advised by Tyria Jolene Moore at the end of their relationship. She also claimed Ty had told her to make sure she cleaned the vehicle real good if she ever ran into anything like that again.

  Tanner wanted to establish that her gun was not an automatic, but that she’d had to pull the trigger and cock it.

  ‘It shoots real easy. It’s got like a hairpin trig
ger,’ Lee blithely replied, seemingly unaware of the point he was scoring for ‘intent’.

  Tanner also confronted her with her sudden recollection of details like the rubbing alcohol, details that had never, ever been heard of or mentioned before.

  She snapped back: ‘And I can talk about every one of them today, but I’m not going to.’

  Moving on to the bullets, Tanner pointed out that on the video she’d stood up and shown Horzepa where the first bullet had struck Mr Mallory on his right side. Her account of what happened in the car didn’t gel with that either.

  ‘I guess that’s what I said,’ Lee allowed. ‘I can’t take the typing and erase it … but this is an incoherent mish-mash.’

  ‘You certainly are willing to admit he was behind the steering wheel when you shot him, aren’t you?’

  ‘I was lying down in the passenger seat. Lying down across the whole car.’

  ‘He was behind the wheel?’

  ‘He was up on his knees, one leg down, one knee up on the seat.’

  ‘And you were lying down?’

  ‘I was … my legs were up. He was having me spread my legs.’

  ‘Can you explain why the bullet, which you shot in his side, didn’t enter low and go upward and high if you were lying on the seat shooting up?’

  ‘I thought he was so decomposed you couldn’t tell. How come you say that?’ she retorted. Her detachment was shocking.

  Moving on, Tanner had other points to drive home: ‘You shot him immediately, didn’t give him a chance to say anything, did you?’

  ‘What am I supposed to do, stop the clock and rationalise with this guy who wanted to kill me?’

  ‘You didn’t give him a chance to say anything when you shot him the first time, did you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘What about the second time?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘What about the third time?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about the last time when you shot him on the ground?’