Murder on Birchleaf Drive
Page 35
He suggested if a student on a first-year law school exam had failed to answer, “conduct legal research,” in the situation that confronted Jason’s attorneys, he or she would have failed. “There is no excuse for not conducting legal research,” he asserted. “These are excellent attorneys, but they messed up here.”
Trenkle contended Judge Ridgeway couldn’t logically conclude the other evidence against Jason was overwhelming, because there had already been “a test case. We had the first trial. Eight people voted not guilty; four people voted guilty. And the only substantive evidence … that changed in the second trial,” he argued, somewhat disingenuously, “was the wrongful death slayer evidence and the child custody complaint. And the verdict went from 8-4” in Jason’s favor to 12-0 against him.
If the evidence at issue had been excluded, Trenkle continued, “I think there is a reasonable probability it would have been different.” Recounting the gaps and holes in the forensic evidence around which Klinkosum had framed his closing argument, Jason’s new lawyer pushed back hard on Cummings’ assertion there was “overwhelming evidence” of Jason’s guilt apart from the civil pleadings. “This case was far from overwhelming evidence,” he contended.
With the evidence and arguments concluded, Judge Ridgeway told the lawyers he would take the matter “under advisement” and issue a ruling after he had a chance to “dig into” the issues further. Yet more waiting for everyone involved.
• • • • •
On August 29, 2017, Judge Ridgeway released a meticulously detailed 51-page order. It signaled the likely end of Jason’s path to a third trial.
Judge Ridgeway agreed with Trenkle that there was “no doubt that counsel for defendant failed to make themselves aware through research or consultation with other experienced practitioners in the field, of several pertinent legal grounds to challenge the admission of the contents of the civil wrongful death action or the child custody action.”
“Among other things,” he wrote, “defendant’s counsel failed to make themselves aware of N.C. Gen. Stat. 1-149.”
“By not making themselves aware of this law,” he continued, “counsel did not assert timely objections to the admission of this evidence, and consequently, did not preserve certain arguments for appeal.”
But Judge Ridgeway chose not to address whether those failures “amount to errors so fundamental that counsel was not functioning as the counsel guaranteed by the Sixth Amendment.” Instead, he focused on whether Jason had suffered any prejudice as the result of Collins’ and Klinkosum’s failures—and concluded he hadn’t.
First of all, the judge noted, the Supreme Court had made clear civil pleadings could, in some instances, be admitted into evidence in a criminal trial without violating section 1-149.
The admission of those pleadings in Jason’s case, he ruled, was permissible as “probative for impeachment purposes of defendant’s testimony at his first trial, to discredit his alibi, and to raise questions regarding defendant’s conduct in the several years following the murder.”
Therefore, he reasoned, even had Collins and Klinkosum “properly and thoroughly researched the admissibility of the civil pleadings in this criminal proceeding,” and “noted more complete and comprehensive objections thereto, those objections would be properly denied because the civil pleadings were admissible for proper purposes other than to prove merely the facts alleged therein.”
Judge Ridgeway flatly rejected Trenkle’s argument that admission of the civil pleadings in the second trial was the only material difference between the two trials—and the logical reason why the second jury had unanimously voted to convict Jason though the first jury had nearly acquitted him.
That argument conveniently omitted, his order stated, how Jason’s own testimony at the first trial “became a centerpiece of the State’s case in the second trial. Because defendant testified at the first trial (and not at the second), the State was able to develop compelling evidence that defendant’s first public statement, made 1,693 days after the murder and after he had reviewed all of the State’s evidence against him through discovery and trial, was one of a guilty man who murdered his wife rather than a man who loved his wife. It was a statement that the State could impeach and to use to raise doubt about defendant’s alibi.”
Thus, considering the “totality of the circumstances,” Judge Ridgeway concluded, there was no reasonable probability more proficient representation by Jason’s defense lawyers would have resulted in a different outcome. “His claim of ineffective assistance of counsel fails,” he ruled, “and the relief he seeks of a new trial is therefore denied.”
• • • • •
November 30, 2018, marked the end of the distinguished careers of two public servants who played central roles in Jason’s case: Sheriff Donnie Harrison and Howard Cummings.
Harrison, now 72, had emerged victorious in every election since 2002 by comfortable margins. It had been widely assumed 2018 would be no different. But not only did he lose his re-election bid by a wide margin, he was beaten by one of his former deputies. His defeat marked the end of an illustrious 50-plus-year career in law enforcement.
For his part, Cummings left on his own terms, having decided 29 years was just enough service in the Wake County DA’s Office. Ironically, he joined the law firm of Tharrington Smith, where his new partners would include Roger Smith, Jr. and Alice Stubbs, both of whom had represented Jason prior to his arrest. And the firm at which Bryan Collins began his career.
Fittingly, the Court of Appeals handed down its opinion resolving Jason’s case—once and for all—as Sheriff Harrison and Cummings were cleaning out their respective desks and removing the pictures from their office walls. Sheriff Harrison grew wistful as he held the picture of Michelle Young and Cassidy that had sat on his desk for nearly twelve years.
After considering Judge Ridgeway’s ruling, the appellate court issued a unanimous 33-page opinion. This time around, Judges Hunter, Stroud, and Dillon concluded Jason was not entitled to a third trial, holding Judge Ridgeway had correctly resolved the issues before him.
Though they expressed concern regarding “irregularities” exhibited by Collins and Klinkosum, they held Judge Ridgeway had ample evidence before him that demonstrated the defense lawyers’ “subpar conduct” hadn’t prejudiced Jason. For all intents and purposes, their decision marked the final chapter in Jason’s seven-year appellate journey.
• • • • •
Twelve years had passed since that fateful November day. Twelve agonizing years that irrevocably—and profoundly—changed the life of every member of the Fisher and Young families.
A mother, daughter, and sister had been forever lost, as had hopes for a grandson, son, and nephew—whose life ended before it even began. A father, son, and brother had been sucked through the criminal justice system like a piece of meat through a grinder, finally succumbing to its mighty power.
A daughter had been left to grow up without either mother or father, surely aware by now her father was serving a life sentence for savagely killing her mother. Like cancer, these battle scars would gradually eat away at all surviving members of these two families.
But at the end of the day, the criminal justice system—as imperfect as this case demonstrated it is—served its purpose and worked precisely as designed. Dozens of professionals had labored tirelessly to achieve the correct result. As best they could, law enforcement officers thoroughly investigated a heinous crime. As best they could, prosecutors and defense lawyers marshalled mountains of evidence and made compelling arguments.
Two juries sifted through the evidence and arguments and ferreted out the truth, fulfilling one of the greatest responsibilities of citizenship. And ten appellate judges and one trial judge carefully reviewed the significant issues presented on appeal, faithfully applied the law, and ultimately resolved them.
When all was said and done, a man accused of a vicious crime had his day in court—not once, but twice. He and he alone
had decided when, how, and with whom to share his story.
More than anything else, it was that story—and when and how he first told it—that best explains why the second jury concluded he had, in fact, brutally murdered his wife at the home they shared on Birchleaf Drive—and why, barring a turn of events of a magnitude far greater than the hung jury or the first Court of Appeals’ decision, Jason Lynn Young will spend the rest of his life in prison.
Acknowledgements
Unfortunately, even all these years later, the events described in the foregoing pages left virtually everyone involved too wrought with emotion to sit down with me for interviews—including Jason and Michelle Young’s family members, prosecutors, defense lawyers, family-law attorneys, detectives, and jurors. With the one exception noted below, my efforts to interview them and obtain their feedback on my drafts were unsuccessful.
To my good fortune, however, I was able to stumble upon the full transcripts of both trials and virtually every hearing. And thanks to WRAL never taking down from its website its daily, gavel-to-gavel video footage of both trials, I was able to watch—on my laptop and at my leisure—nearly everything that happened in the courtroom as if I had been there. That allowed me to convey the emotions displayed by the lawyers and witnesses—and even the judge—in ways that would have been impossible solely with the written transcripts at my disposal.
Amanda Lamb, who covered both trials for WRAL-TV and who is herself a published true crime author (as well as novelist), was gracious enough to sit with me as I started this project and persuade me that, despite this being my maiden voyage, I could actually do it. I greatly appreciate her time, encouragement, mentoring, and thoughtful feedback on my early drafts.
I am grateful to Jack Michaels, with whom I attended the same church for many years, who provided valuable information and insights about his and his brother Paul’s representation of Linda and Meredith Fisher in the wrongful death case that loomed so large over the criminal and appellate proceedings.
My managing partner at the Poyner Spruill law firm, Dan Cahill, was aware of my work on this project and could have steered me away from it. Instead, he encouraged me, even if it, from time to time, distracted me from my day job. My amazing personal assistant at the firm, Sandy Chrisawn, couldn’t have been more encouraging, reading every chapter hot off the press and making me believe she loved it. Whether she did or didn’t, her enthusiasm and support kept me going.
My mom, Evelyn Epstein, grammar police officer that she is, relished her job ferreting out typos and grammatical errors, which she did with aplomb. She encouraged me the way only a mother truly can—and I sincerely appreciate her support.
My beautiful and talented South African tutu-designing bride, Aletia Ferreira, couldn’t have been more supportive, despite me beginning this project barely a year after we exchanged vows on our back deck. Her support didn’t waver even when I would go dark for days on end in my attempts to polish the many rough edges that hopefully disappeared before these pages saw the light of day.
Though I purposefully kept our kids, Benjamin, Madeline, Enzo, Tucker, and Thomas blissfully unaware of what I was doing until Black Lyon Publishing came calling, they nonetheless served as an inspiration to me, and always will be.
As I neared the end of my first draft, I decided to contact another reporter who covered this story for years, Anne Blythe, who had the courtroom beat at the News & Observer, Raleigh’s long-time daily newspaper. Not only did Anne agree to read the draft, her initial comments convinced me it was nowhere near ready for “prime time.”
At my request, she labored tirelessly to help me edit and revise each chapter into something much better than it was before. Without Anne’s help, this book would never have been ready for prime time. I am enormously grateful for her able assistance.
Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge a certain treadmill at the gym I frequent, upon which I had many epiphanies that led directly to words and passages found on the foregoing pages. To the extent credit is due for any particularly insightful thoughts or elegant or pithy turns of phrase (including this one), that credit rightly belongs to that treadmill, rather than to me.