Murdered Innocents (30 page)

Judge Lynch informed the jurors they would be sequestered in a local hotel if they did not complete their deliberations that day. As they exited the courtroom, the jurors passed a giant overhead projection of Robert Springsteen posing as Amy Ayers with an inset photo of the dead girl.

The poses were eerily similar.

 

After thirteen hours of deliberation, the panel of twelve jurors returned to the 167
^th
District Court courtroom. Once seated, Judge Lynch addressed the jury. He complimented them on their behavior during the trial. He also admonished the gallery that there should be no demonstrative activity upon the reading of the verdicts.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, speaking through your foreperson, have you arrived at a verdict in this cause?”

“Yes, Your Honor, we have,” replied jury foreman Phil Rodriguez.

“If you will submit it to the bailiff, please, sir.” Lynch read the verdict. He looked up toward Springsteen and asked him to rise. The young man stood up next to his attorney Berkley Bettis. Joe James Sawyer, Springsteen’s number one advocate, was nowhere to be seen. He claimed he was not present because he did not believe the jury would reach a verdict until the following day.

“‘The
State of Texas
versus
Robert Springsteen IV,
in the one hundred sixty-seventh District Court of Travis County, Texas, verdict of the jury: We, the jury, find the defendant, Robert Springsteen IV, guilty of the offense of capital murder.’”

Robert Springsteen showed no emotion as the judge read the verdict.

The families of the girls, on the other hand, fully expressed themselves. Tears and smiles abounded from the front row.

Maryjane Roudebush, Springsteen’s grandmother, was Springsteen’s only family member to attend every day of his trial. For the verdict, her hair was ensconced in black.

Several jurors shed tears as the judge read the verdict.

Judge Lynch informed the jury the penalty phase would begin the following morning.

When asked how she felt, Barbara Ayres-Wilson, through a veil of tears, responded, “It’s just over. We wanted some kind of ending.” She asked the seemingly impenetrable wall of reporters to part so she could leave.

Everyone quietly stepped aside.

 

For the state to get a death sentence for Robert Burns Springsteen IV, they had to prove that the defendant would be a continued threat. They attempted to achieve this goal by bringing up several witnesses from West Virginia, who testified about several of Springsteen’s adult indiscretions. Stories of public drunkenness, violence, and disobedience toward authorities rang throughout the courtroom.

The defense, on the other hand, chose not to bring forth one single character witness on behalf of their client.

Sawyer did, at least, provide a closing argument. He asked the jury point-blank, “The unspoken question, I suppose, is: doesn’t he deserve to die?”

Sawyer questioned the death penalty’s ability to bring closure to anyone involved in the case. “I think it’s true that there are people that believe that death somehow brings closure, that killing Robert Springsteen will somehow help. It brings no relief. It’s only a Dead Sea fruit that becomes ashes in the mouth, an illusion.”

Sawyer wondered aloud what it would take to spare a convicted man’s life. “The New Testament offers us a story of a man who thought nothing of taking life, who reveled in it, who looked forward to taking life. And I wonder if, as he took the road to Damascus, if anyone in the world would have bet that Saul of Taurus would become Paul the Apostle.

“And I am not suggesting that Robert Springsteen is Saul of Taurus. But rather I believe that story tells us what we want is redemption for the least amongst us. I believe it takes great moral courage to spare a life.”

Robert Smith took his turn before this jury one last time.

“No one in this room wants to kill Robert Springsteen. That’s not the point.

“The point is, you have convicted him of capital murder, and despite the guilt trip that you just suffered”—he referred to Sawyer’s closing—“he is, in fact, guilty of murder.”

Smith spoke of how Springsteen committed an execution himself. “You have to realize that there are people in this world, and one of them is sitting right there”—as he pointed toward Springsteen—“who will come up close to you and press the muzzle of a gun to your head and kill you.

“You have to weigh this against this girl,” Smith stated as he pointed at a photograph of Amy Ayers, “who would be twenty-three and this girl”—next, a photograph of Sarah Harbison—“who would be twenty-five”—and finally the photographs of Jennifer Harbison and Eliza Thomas—“and these girls who would be twenty-seven.

“That’s what they were. You have to think about the women they would be today and the children they can’t have, the veterinarian that they will never become. And you have to weigh whatever mitigation you find against this atrocious crime and then answer the question. That’s all anybody wants, is an honest determination of the facts here. Thank you.”

The jury was excused at 1:40
P.M.
Again they had to make another tough decision. This time, it was for Robert Springsteen’s life.

 

The day’s courtroom proceedings were delayed due to something rather unusual. Earlier that morning, an inmate escaped from the Travis County Jail, the same location where Robert Springsteen was being held. The entire jail had been placed under lockdown. Eventually order was restored and Springsteen was allowed to be escorted to the courtroom.

In Texas, a jury does not actually sentence a defendant. They must answer three questions posed by the court. In this particular case, the three questions were:

As soon as the jury sat in their chairs, Judge Lynch asked for their verdict. As jury foreman Phil Rodriguez handed the verdict to the judge, one of the jurors began to cry. Springsteen’s wife, Robin Moss, covered her eyes with her hand. Springsteen’s grandmother did not show up because she knew she would cry.

The responses to the three questions were “Yes,” “Yes,” and “No.”

“At this time, we will proceed to punishment and sentencing in this cause,” stated Judge Lynch. “It is, therefore, the judgment of this court that you, Robert Springsteen, are guilty of the offense of capital murder.

“Furthermore, in conformance with the jury’s verdict on special issue number one, special issue number two, and special issue number three, and in compliance with the laws of the state of Texas, I hereby assess your punishment at death.”

Robert Springsteen would be sent to death row in Huntsville. Under state law, all death penalty cases receive an automatic appeal.

Juror Gunther Goetz stated that the key evidence for the jury were the confessions from Springsteen and Michael Scott. “That really struck a chord. Do people make up facts that weren’t known?” Goetz also commented that the jury was surprised when the defense did not call a single character witness on Springsteen’s behalf.

“We just didn’t get a very clear picture of this person,” he stated.

Jury foreman Phil Rodriguez expressed relief that the trial was over. “I think our whole community will appreciate this being over.”

But it was far from over.

 

It took more than a year for Michael Scott to go to trial. He was represented by three capable attorneys: Carlos Garcia, Dexter Gilford, and Tony Diaz.

Garcia had handled several high-profile defendants such as John Brickley, who stabbed his wife and son to death, set them on fire, and severely burned and crippled himself in the process; Martin Gonzalez, who killed his wife, his lover, and another woman over the span of four years; and later, Caleb Thompson, the twin brother of Pastor Joshua Thompson, both convicted of beating a teenager during a Bible Studies program. Garcia had been appointed by the court to represent Scott.

The soon-to-be thirty-seven-year-old Gilford graduated from the University of Texas Law School in 1992. He actually worked on the other side as an assistant district attorney in nearby San Antonio from 1993 to 1995. He eventually switched sides and took up defense work. He served as the president of the Austin Criminal Defense Lawyers Association in 2001 and was also a board member of the Texas Criminal Defense Lawyers Association.

Garcia and Gilford were joined by the heavyset, salt-and-pepper–bearded, forty-five-year-old Tony Diaz, Scott’s original trial lawyer. Diaz was known for his work as a member of the State Executive Board of Directors of the Texas League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC) and as a district director of LULAC’s District VII Board. He was also director of the Youth Leadership Academy at the University of Texas, a Parades Middle School mentor, and a board member of La Fuente, an education advocacy group. Diaz had much less experience in criminal cases than Garcia and relegated himself to the background as support.

The state was, once again, represented by Darla Davis, Efrain de la Fuente, and Robert Smith. Many of the same witnesses who testified before the court in the Robert Springsteen IV trial also testified in the Michael Scott case.

The opening statement by the prosecution basically mirrored the argument they gave one year earlier. The defense set about a familiar path with the tactic of attacking the police’s desire to pin the crime on someone—anyone. Scott’s attorneys did, however, bring a few new wrinkles to the case.

Carlos Garcia stated “It’s a lot more to this case than meets the eye, not just about that confession. That’s just the starting point. But go with the facts and details, strange things.”

The first thing Garcia mentioned was that yogurt shop manager, Reese Price, had received death threats before the murders. Not only did Price receive death threats, Garcia explained, but Jennifer Harbison had allegedly received some as well just prior to the murders. Supposedly, someone said they would kill her and cut her up. Garcia claimed that Jennifer told her parents, a teacher, and her boyfriend. The police even got involved and placed a trace on her home phone.

Garcia also mentioned several yogurt shop employees reported they heard noises on top of the roof just days before the murders occurred.

Garcia informed the jury there was a cross scrawled on the inside of the yogurt shop the night of the murders. He wondered why none of the police officers had addressed this potentially significant clue.

After the shocking revelation of the death threats, Garcia redirected the jury’s attention to the boys involved in the case. He spoke of Michael Scott’s trust of law enforcement. He explained how Scott looked up to police officers. He also spoke of his client’s battle with ADHD.

Garcia stressed that the case was about 1991, not 1999.

“Mike had never killed anybody until he got into that room because when they were done with him, they made that man believe he was a murderer.”

Garcia believed Scott’s confession was shaped by the detectives to fit the facts. “The truth about this confession is this poor man doesn’t get it right the first time or the second time or the third time. He didn’t get it right the last time either.”

Dexter Gilford picked up on the topic of confessions.

“Friends, I have been a prosecutor down in Bexar County. I’ve sat on both sides of the courtroom. I know what a confession is. This ain’t a confession.”

Garcia closed the opening argument on a strong note. “There will be no conviction because if you are honest, and if you are an independent thinker, if you are objective, you will see, you will recognize reasonable doubt. You will see it. You will know it. We will expose it for what it is, which is the grossest miscarriage of justice this town has ever seen.”

 

The state started off with the parents of the girls. Much of the same testimony presented in the Robert Springsteen IV trial was repeated here. A few new tidbits, however, were introduced.

Bob Ayers spoke about how his daughter, Amy, was a “private little girl.” How she literally became sick when she had to undress and shower in front of other girls in her gym class.

Barbara Ayres-Wilson spoke of how Jennifer and Sam Buchanan had wanted to get married. Ayres-Wilson also showed she would not back down from a fight. During cross-examination, for whatever reason, Carlos Garcia asked her if she knew how much Sarah Harbison weighed.

The mother glared at the attorney and said, “You can find it on the autopsy report.”

The gallery also found Garcia’s description of the girls’ charred bodies as “roasted chickens” to be rather unpleasant and unnecessary. He also had a penchant for leaving pictures of the girls’ dead bodies on his laptop computer screen pointing in the direction of the girls’ families. Ayres-Wilson found his behavior disgusting.

“I couldn’t let my mother see that.” She sighed, referring to her elderly mother, who came to the trial every day and had to stare at the graphic photos of her granddaughters.

Garcia was not off to a smooth start.

 

 

After a couple of days of identical witnesses from the first trial, the prosecution called Reese Price to the stand. Price, the yogurt shop manager, testified during voir dire, outside of the presence of the jury, that she spoke with Detective Paul Johnson in 1998.

Garcia asked her if the conversation revolved around her being stalked in 1991.

“Correct,” Price responded.

“Now, there was a report made, wasn’t there, of a burglary at your house?”

“Correct.”

“And this is before the murders?”

“Correct.”

“You were also getting harassing phone calls at the yogurt shop. True?”

“I had someone that would call and hang up.”

“You were also getting these calls at your house. Right?”

“Yes, sir. That was before someone broke in.”

“Your apartment was burglarized sometime before the murders, correct?”

“I was away for Christmas. So Christmas or Christmas Eve.”

Garcia took a step back and a long pause.

Judge Lynch stepped in and asked, “Was that before or after?”

“Before,” replied the diminutive Price.

“You mean a whole year before?” asked the judge.

“Yes, sir.”

Garcia stepped back into the questioning. “The thing that struck you was because all your underclothes were put in a pile, and they took a knife and displayed it on top of the underclothes.”

“Correct.”

“One of the things that [also] struck you was that you felt that you were close in body size or petite just like Jennifer, correct?”

“Correct.”

Judge Lynch was not convinced the break-in of Price’s home and the phone calls warranted inclusion. “Based on what I have seen, and based on my understanding of what probative evidence is, the probative value of this evidence at this particular time is next to nil. It’s like throwing stuff on the wall and seeing what might stick to the jury.”

 

 

Carlos Garcia asked for a mistrial. His reason was due to a response given by Detective Ron Lara, one of the detectives who interrogated Scott. Lara’s mention of Scott’s “cold-blooded nature” set the attorney off.

Judge Lynch denied the request.

Throughout the trial, Judge Lynch appeared annoyed at Carlos Garcia’s methods. The judge complained the attorney was “slow as molasses on things that are irrelevant.” He was also annoyed by Garcia’s habit of “testifying” instead of asking questions.

 

 

Dexter Gilford crossed Billy Sifuentes, a retired Austin police officer who witnessed the written statement of Scott, about the alleged cross that had been scrawled in the yogurt shop. After showing the witness a photo of the cross, Gilford asked, “Can you tell the members of the jury what that is?”

“It’s usually a tattoo marked on the web of your finger,” informed the officer. “Back in pachuco days. Before the gangs, before the word ‘gangs’ became prevalent, people that would serve time would put a little cross and how many times they served going to prison by a marking over the little cross. Texas Syndicate brought back that sign. You will see some TS members wearing it sometimes. It indicates a prison trip, that you made it by God’s way; that’s why you survived it.”

“Texas Syndicate is a prison gang?” asked Gilford.

“Yes.”

 

 

The most important cross-examination of the trial took place between Detective Robert Merrill and Carlos Garcia. The defense attorney loosened the detective up with a few basic questions regarding interrogation methods.

“You would never intentionally try and suggest to an individual how something happened so that they could then adopt it from you and give it back to you in the form of a statement?”

“I don’t know about never,” replied Merrill, “but I would not try to.”

“Is it fair to say that the difference between an interview and an interrogation is that while the interview is fact-finding, the interrogation is accusatory in nature?”

“I would think so.”

“Sometimes you lie to people, right?”

“I have,” Merrill calmly replied.

“And when you lie, you have to lie without them knowing you’re lying, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“So, basically, you’re faking it. You’re giving a false impression of sincerity and objectivity, right?”

Garcia honed in on the specifics of the interrogation of Michael Scott.

“What was the purpose of you guys wanting to take him to (the former location of) the yogurt shop?”

“He asked to go. We thought it might help.”

“You have an operator who can operate that video camera, right?”

“Correct.”

“Now you testify that he started remembering more things, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why didn’t you tape-record him right there and then?”

“I just didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I wanted to do it in the office.”

“But you took a video camera to videotape him at the scene. He’s remembering things. It doesn’t make any sense, does it, that when he’s supposedly spouting off these things you don’t tape-record him?”

“Did to me at the time,” replied a nonchalant Merrill.

“So all of that is undocumented, right?”

“That’s right.”

Garcia switched gears again to after the interview. “You tell him that he probably feels like you have beaten the hell out of him. What do you mean by that, Detective Merrill?”

“The interview process is tough,” replied the stocky detective. “Everybody goes away just worn-out.”

“How is it tough?”

“Because you’re thinking as a detective—crime scene. What has he said? What can you use against him? Where are we going here? How do we get him to tell us what we want? And by the time I leave the room, I’m beat.”

“You just said, ‘How do you tell him what we want?’ What did you want?”

“We wanted the truth to these murders. That’s what we wanted.”

Garcia wanted to find out the truth about Merrill’s brandishing of the .22 revolver during the interrogation. “Why did you have to take that extreme measure of taking a gun, putting it in a person’s hand, and at some point putting your finger behind their head?”

“Trying to get those sequences; getting the chain of events down.”

“And you were willing to do whatever it took to get your story?”

“I don’t know about whatever it took. I was willing to do what I could to try to get the story.”

“And you scared him, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, it did.”

“It scared him. As a matter of fact, he says on that tape that you scared the shit out of him. Remember that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“So the truth is that Michael Scott was aware that you put something behind his head.”

“I don’t believe that at all. He said when I put that gun in his hand, his mind went blank. I think that’s what scared him. And then when I had him stand in that chair and accused him of killing four girls, three or four girls, I think that really scared him.”

The following day, September 11, 2002, the state rested its case. It was the one-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers in New York City.