Misty River, page 12
Blake’s role as the trial prosecutor would be to manage the case and bring it to a successful conclusion. There was no room for loose ends.
Blake approached the trial like a game of chess, which he’d mastered as a child. In the same way that chess was war on a board, Moretti believed that trial was war in a courtroom. With every legal move, he masterfully checked his opponent, the defense attorney. Blake recognized that criminal lawyers, like any other creatures of habit, tried their cases the same way every time. Defense attorneys often sat back and shot arrows at the prosecutor’s case, hoping to convince at least one naive juror that all the evidence they’d witnessed during the trial had been an illusion.
A jury was selected and anxiously awaited the presentation of the evidence. Battle lines were drawn. So, with the fate of the trial hanging in suspense, Blake prepared himself for an intense battle of wits. The courtroom was in suspense, awaiting the next move in this high-stakes game of legal chess.
PART FOUR
“The only real lawyers are trial lawyers,
and trial lawyers try cases to juries.”
—Clarence Darrow
CHAPTER 22
The Rape Trial
July 13, 1987, Trial commences
The Sunday night before the trial commenced, Blake followed the same routine. For what felt like the hundredth time, he revised and fine-tuned his notes for the next day’s session. Then he’d pour himself a glass of wine, sit back with Roxanne, his cat, and listen to a vinyl copy of Somethin’ Else, featuring Cannonball Adderley and Miles Davis, recorded on March 9, 1958, for Blue Note Records.
He’d retire for the night feeling confident that having studied the case for countless hours, he was prepared to counter Sweeney’s defense.
He never wavered from his commitment to ensuring Olivia Spencer’s voice was heard. Any survivor of a violent sexual assault had the right to be sure their pain and suffering would not be forgotten and to be granted justice and closure.
At eight, Monday morning, Blake entered the courtroom with his team before Sweeney could claim the attorney’s table closest to the jury box. The jury would be less likely to be exposed to the defense’s whispered, tainted comments. And the defense wouldn’t be able to display notes with false or inadmissible evidence.
The trial commenced with the selection of the jury. The jury selection process is crucial in shaping the case’s outcome. The jury selection process begins with summoning potential jurors, whom both the prosecution and defense attorneys question to determine their suitability for jury service. This questioning process, known as voir dire, aims to identify any biases or prejudices that may affect a juror’s ability to impartially evaluate the evidence presented during the trial.
Peremptory challenges are an essential tool used by attorneys during jury selection. These challenges allow attorneys to dismiss potential jurors without providing a specific reason or justification. However, there are certain limitations and guidelines surrounding the use of peremptory challenges.
Attorneys may employ peremptory challenges when they believe that a potential juror has biases or prejudices that could affect their ability to consider the evidence fairly. Attorneys may exercise peremptory challenges based on their intuition or observations made during voir dire. For example, if a potential juror expresses strong opinions or beliefs that align with one side of the case, an attorney may choose to exercise a peremptory challenge to remove them from the jury pool.
There are restrictions on using peremptory challenges to prevent discrimination or bias in jury selection. The Supreme Court has ruled that peremptory challenges cannot be used to exclude potential jurors based on race, gender, or other protected characteristics. According to Batson v. Kentucky (1986), striking jurors solely on the basis of their race violates the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.
During jury selection, Blake chose as many women as possible. He was masterful in exercising his peremptory challenges without appearing to be motivated by prejudgment or bias.
He used his preemptive challenges to exclude engineers, believing that they lacked the common sense necessary to determine guilt or innocence, relying instead on mathematical formulas.
He was a master of framing questions to identify prospective jurors with biases or prejudices that might prevent them from following the court’s instructions.
He’d once prosecuted a man for raping a prostitute. The evidence had been overwhelming, but he’d weeded out prospective jurors with prejudice against prostitutes using only one question. “Do you believe a prostitute can be raped? Yes, or no?” Few lawyers would ask that question because they were afraid to ask it.
The only prospective jurors left standing were those who believed it was possible to rape a woman who earned a living by charging for sex. The defendant was found guilty as charged.
In Blake’s experience, female jurors were harsher on defendants when the victims were women.
Because of Blake’s masterful questioning of prospective jurors and his use of peremptory challenges, when the jury selection process ended, Owens learned his fate rested in the hands of a panel of nine women and three men.
Blake was confident that when the women jurors heard Owens brag that he was the best gift a woman could receive, there would be no question they would find him guilty as charged. His only question was how quickly the jury would reach a guilty verdict.
In the dimly lit courtroom, the first day of the highly anticipated rape trial had finally arrived. The air was thick with tension as the defendant, Billy Buck Owens, sat anxiously at the defense table. Spectators, journalists, and curious onlookers packed the courtroom.
From the prosecution table, Blake could hear the clamor carry across the room. Olivia’s family and closest friends occupied the front row of the spectator seats. Print, television, and radio reporters occupied the second row. Behind them sat the curious. Every day, the faces changed. Whatever their motivation for attending the trial, Blake could sense their desire to witness the defendant brought to justice.
Misty River Daily News photographer Scoop Brady was among the crowd, known for his keen eye for capturing pivotal moments of high-profile criminal trials. Scoop was masterful, positioning himself strategically to get the best shots without disrupting the solemn atmosphere.
Scoop ditched his old noisy Nikon camera with the through-the-lens focusing and armed himself with the more expensive Leica range-finder camera with the much quieter shutter, allowing him to be discreet and unobtrusive. Scoop would move silently around the room with every click of his camera.
Focused on capturing key moments that would convey the gravity of the trial, Scoop was famous for capturing the raw emotions etched on the faces of those involved – from the determined prosecutor to the worried family members of the victim.
He zoomed in on Owens’s face, capturing his nervous demeanor and searching for any signs of guilt or innocence. Before the trial was over, Scoop would snap hundreds of shots of Blake Moretti meticulously presenting evidence, ensuring that every detail was documented, as well as capturing the expressions and gestures of witnesses who would take their turns on the stand, knowing that their visual cues could hold crucial information for both sides of the case.
Throughout the day, Scoop’s presence would go unnoticed by most as he blended seamlessly into the background. His photographs would later grace the pages of the local newspaper, providing a visual narrative of this high-stakes trial for readers who were unable to attend. Scoop knew his photographs would influence public perception. With each image, he would capture a piece of the truth, allowing the readers to form their own opinions about the case. Scoop couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction.
Judge Croghan’s law clerks and staff sat in folding chairs along the wall opposite the jury box. Erring on the side of caution, the judge had requested two deputy sheriffs to be stationed at strategic locations inside the courtroom.
In the bustling courtroom on the first day of testimony, two deputy sheriffs stood watch, their presence ensuring the safety and security of everyone present. Each deputy had a distinct appearance. The first deputy sheriff stood tall and imposing, his trim physique suggesting years of experience in law enforcement. He was of average height but carried an air of confidence that commanded respect. His uniform was crisp and neatly pressed, emphasizing his professionalism. Beneath his dress shirt, a bulge hinted at the presence of a bulletproof vest, a necessary precaution in such high-stakes situations.
The second deputy sheriff stood apart from the other due to his physical build. He was noticeably overweight but compensated for it with an unwavering commitment to his role. His uniform fit snugly around his frame and bulletproof vest, emphasizing his dedication despite his physical limitations.
Both deputies wore a black belt that held various tools of the trade, including a revolver holstered securely at their side, ready to be drawn if needed. A leather cartridge case adorned their belt, housing extra ammunition for their firearms neatly arranged, providing quick access to additional ammunition if required. A pair of handcuffs dangled from another loop on their belt, a reminder of their authority to restrain those who posed a threat. Completing their ensemble was a sturdy baton, nestled snugly in its designated holder, its weight reassuringly familiar.
Each of the deputies was within easy reach, a symbol of their authority and readiness to act. Together, the deputy sheriffs formed a formidable presence in the courtroom, their appearance reflecting their commitment to maintaining order and safeguarding the proceedings. Their collective expertise and preparedness served as a reminder that justice would be upheld, no matter the challenges faced.
The gallery was populated with “court watchers,” an interesting group, most of them retired people who regularly attended trials. For them, a trial was like a TV soap opera. At the end of the day’s session, they’d share their opinions of the proceedings.
Early in Blake’s career, he’d been curious and would take a moment while he packed his files and notes to hear their thoughts. But he soon realized that only one or two of these armchair quarterbacks were worth his time.
Judge Croghan’s bailiff shouted, “ALL RISE.” And the room filled with the sound of chairs being pushed back and shuffling feet. “Hear ye. Hear ye. The Superior Court for the County of Leigh is now in session, the Honorable Mary Croghan presiding.”
The judge, wearing pearls at the neck of her black robe, took her place on the platform; the bailiff struck the gavel; everyone sat down, and the case of the People versus Billy “Buck” Owens began.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it is now time for each side to present their side of the story. You will first hear from the State, followed by the Defendant.
“Is the State ready to proceed with opening statements?” Judge Croghan asked.
Blake thought, Hell, yes, I’m ready. It was time for Owens to be held accountable, time for the reckoning, and he was prepared to battle. The jury expected the prosecutor to be fair but tenacious. Blake checked those boxes.
He’d developed a strategy to achieve justice for the victims and their survivors while holding the accused accountable for their crimes. And he recognized that the People’s lawyers needed to display confidence.
Blake subscribed to what he called the Rule of Three, which meant the more times a person heard the same story, the more they believed it. He divided the trial into three phases.
First, he attracted the jury’s attention with the opening statement by telling the story of the crime. Second, he reinforced his theory of the case during his presentation of the evidence proving the defendant’s guilt. Third, during the closing argument, Blake would tell the story a third time, explaining what he’d proven and what the jury must do.
That morning, in a commanding voice, he responded to the judge’s question, “Your Honor, I am prepared to begin with the opening statement on behalf of the People.”
“You may begin. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please give Mr. Moretti your undivided attention.”
Blake always started with the obligatory introduction, “May it please the court, ladies, gentlemen of the jury, Detective Barnes, and counsel for the defendant.” There was nothing standard about the remainder of his opening statement. His goal was to compel the jury to focus on his case.
Blake had acquired a love of storytelling when he was a boy and was damn good at it. As a young man, he’d attended mass at Saint Francis Church every Sunday. To accommodate the neighborhood’s ethnic makeup, the archbishop made sure the pastor was Italian and allowed mass to be said in Italian rather than Latin, for which he was rewarded monetarily. After mass, Blake would sit on his grandfather’s front porch with his uncles and listen intently to the stories they told about the days when they were growing up.
Not only the nature of the stories piqued his attention, but also the tone and rhythm. A story that captured the jury by varying the pace, keeping them in the moment of the crime, brought them closer to a guilty verdict without ever saying, “the evidence shows”.
Blake could listen all day long to the indelible voice of actor Morgan Freeman. Deep, reassuring, and authoritative, Freeman’s passionate delivery commanded his audience’s attention. Blake recognized he was no Morgan Freeman, but he knew his voice could make a jury sit up and listen. And he knew it was important to be himself, to speak sincerely from his heart as he sold his case.
To give the jury the impression that they were present at the time of the offense, he told the story in the present tense, an end run around the Golden Rule, which prohibits a lawyer from asking jurors to put themselves in the victim’s shoes.
Blake approached the jury box without getting too close and began his story in a soft, slow cadence to avoid making the jury uncomfortable.
“East Lakeville Valley, here in Leigh County, is not the nicest part of town, but it’s not the worst part, either. In the local village mall, there are a set of storefronts. You know, the kind, connected but not quite upscale. So, as you walk along the sidewalks of the shopping center, you can see the stores’ lightweight curtains and panel façades running end to end.
“At one end of the mall sits Hanger’s Market. That’s where Olivia Spencer shopped for last-minute groceries on Monday night, Saint Patrick’s Day, March 17, 1987. That fateful evening, Olivia was kidnapped at gunpoint in the parking lot, forced to drive to a secluded end of town, and brutally raped by this man, Billy “Buck” Owens.”
Blake pointed to the defendant, an essential move because it evidenced confidence that the correct person had been charged with the crime. Owens displayed an uncaring look on his face and turned away.
“Olivia Spencer is a young, single, elementary school teacher who lives alone here in Leigh County. She was engaged to be married, but that’s up in the air now.
“That evening, she arrives home exhausted after a long day of teaching and parent conferences, and finding nothing substantial in the refrigerator, she freshens up and leaves for the grocery store at approximately seven p.m.”
Blake paused momentarily, allowing the jury to picture the scene, then continued. “Ms. Spencer arrives at the shopping center parking lot at approximately 7:22 p.m. The sun has already set.
“Less than an hour later, at approximately 8:15, she leaves the store with her cart full of groceries. We turn and look, watching her load her groceries into her car.
“Suddenly, from behind her, the defendant presses a gun into her ribs, pushes her into her vehicle, and forces her to slide across the front bench into the driver’s seat. Reeking of alcohol, he asks her, ‘Do you want to live or die? Drive!’
“As she drives, the defendant continuously barks directions, making her realize he has a destination in mind. But fearing he’ll kill her if she disobeys him, she follows his instructions.
“The defendant orders her to drive along Misty River Road, cross the bridge, and turn left onto a dirt road that leads to a densely wooded area along the bank of the Misty River. The entire time she drives, the defendant keeps his gun pointed at her. It becomes apparent to her that after he finishes doing whatever he has in mind, he’ll have to kill her. He hasn’t bothered to mask his identity, so he’ll have no choice.
“Olivia Spencer’s life begins to flash by. First, she thinks about her parents and the toll her death will take on her mom and dad. Then her fiancé. Knowing his nature, she thinks he’ll come looking for her, but will have no clue where to start. Then she thinks about her students, associates, and close friends and the sadness they’ll carry in their hearts.
“And what is the defendant doing while Olivia Spencer’s life flashes before her eyes? He’s holding his gun to her head, screaming driving directions in her face, and riffling through her purse for money. She’s scared to death. Who wouldn’t be? But she doesn’t panic. Instead, she replaces thoughts of the remainder of her life being stolen with thoughts of survival. Regardless of the risk, she decides that at the first opportunity, she’ll attempt to escape. She’ll have to get out of her vehicle. It’s the only chance of survival she has.
“As she approaches the end of the dirt road, the defendant directs her to stop and park.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the place you visited on the jury view. The only difference is that you were there in broad daylight, and Olivia Spencer is there in the dark of night, the waxing crescent moon above providing little light. Eerily quiet.
“The defendant tells her, ‘This is as good a place as any,’ and with his gun still aimed squarely at her head, he orders her to take off her clothes.
“Olivia Spencer knows she’s trapped. She sits quietly, contemplating her escape, and surveys the area, looking for the best escape route. She’s hemmed in by the Misty River to the right and surrounded by dense woods. In the distance sits the R and X railroad. She sees no sign of anyone who could help. No houses are visible where she might run to seek assistance.
