Murder in Little Egypt (44 page)

“I can’t control him,” Margulis said. “I’ve tried. Believe me. I told the judge I’m totally against this. It’s in the record.”

Dale cited DiMaio’s
Gunshot Wounds
in an effort to refute Dr. Gantner’s conclusions about the closeness of the shot to the back of the head.

“You agree that you consider DiMaio an authority?” Dale asked.

“I went so far as to hire him,” Dr. Gantner said, “to be the first chief medical examiner in the city of St. Louis, and he accepted. Then he decided to get married in Dallas and turned me down. So, yes, I consider him to be experienced in the field.”

Dale was out of his league with Gantner, who had to correct him repeatedly on the proper use of technical vocabulary, going so far as to spell out words, such as “peri,” meaning the area around a bullet hole, which Dale kept calling a halo. In Steve Goldman’s view, Art Margulis had shown a greater competence in discussing the medical terminology of gunshot wounds than Dr. Cavaness exhibited. Dave Barron thought the same. What Art Margulis was thinking, they could only guess. Jack Nolen, watching from a back row, figured that Margulis was probably wishing that he had never taken this case. No one could control the doc, Nolen knew. He could see chickens coming home to roost all over the courtroom.

In a final effort, Dale tried to get Dr. Gantner to say that a close contact wound would leave metal fragments on the surface of the skin. Why were there no metal fragments in the area of the wound to the back of the head?

“And it is your opinion, then, that a near-contact wound would not leave any deposit of metallic fragments either from the bullet or the barrel?”

“Not necessarily, no,” Dr. Gantner said. “In my opinion in this case, we have no evidence that it did.”

“No more questions,” Dale said, and he sat down.

In his closing argument, Steve Goldman went over all the evidence, putting particular stress on Dr. Gantner’s credibility and describing Dale Cavaness as amoral:

“He is the kind of man who tried to impose his will onto others and treats them the way he wants to treat them, regardless of how they want to be treated. People expect that in a doctor to some degree. They expect a doctor to be authoritarian and a doctor to be smart, and he is that. He is smart. He is a smart doctor, but he is also a cold-blooded killer.”

Goldman let the jury know how difficult it had been for Marian, Kevin and Charli to testify, to reveal to strangers their private tragedy. They had done so only for Sean’s sake and to protect themselves from Dr. Cavaness’s revenge. They wanted justice to be done.

“You are probably thinking,” Goldman told the jury, “how can a man kill his own son, especially a doctor, who is supposed to save lives. Well, you know, as we go through life, we realize the older we get that people are often much more than they seem, and that certainly applies to doctors. Sean thought the world of him, and he is the one that ended that world.”

Art Margulis in his closing argument spoke of the unthinkable nature of the crime with which Dr. Cavaness was charged and the impossibility of believing that any successful physician would kill his son for a hundred and forty thousand dollars, or for any amount of money. He reminded the jury of Sean’s drinking and instability and said that the young man had been a prime candidate for suicide, which even Dr. Turgeon had stated under oath he could not “completely rule out” as the cause of death. And Dr. Cavaness would have known as an experienced surgeon that in any autopsy Sean’s liver would have shown fatty tissue indicating alcoholism, thus invalidating the insurance policies.

At this point Steve Goldman dearly wished that he could bring up Mark’s murder and show the jury the ghastly photographs of Mark’s ravaged body. Goldman thought that it was likely that Dr. Cavaness had believed that Sean’s body, left out in the country like Mark’s, would also be eaten by animals, making an autopsy impossible. At any rate, Goldman understood, the insurance was still valid, since the cause of death had not been alcoholism, even though Sean had not admitted to his treatment for the problem when filling out the insurance application and his father had also failed to mention it.

Margulis, citing the judge’s instructions to the jury, suggested that at most they could find the defendant guilty of involuntary manslaughter, in that he had admitted handing the gun to Sean, who, the evidence showed, was intoxicated. Beyond that, Margulis said, the prosecution’s case was riddled with doubt.

Sean and his dad “had the best relationship of anyone in the family,” Margulis said. Dr. Cavaness had paid Sean’s rent and tuition and had sent him extra money. No one had been more concerned about his son’s welfare.

Because, as in any criminal trial, the burden of proof was on the prosecution, Steve Goldman got the last word. His closing rebuttal argument was an impassioned plea for justice.

“If Dr. Cavaness shows anything about his feelings about Sean,” Goldman said, “you can tell it when he was up here holding those pictures of his dead son as if they’re a bunch of playing cards. This is a big game to him. Think of him . . . on that night, December 13, when he snuck up here in the middle of the night and snuck up on his son and shot him in the back of the head. How he stood over him and shot him again in the ear. How Marian, his ex-wife, called him up and said, ‘My God, our son is dead!’ and he hung up on her.”

Goldman told the jury that they would have to have the same courage as Marian and Kevin and Charli had had in testifying. They had to be able to tell John Dale Cavaness and all the John Dale Cavanesses that they cannot sacrifice their sons for insurance money or for any other motives.

Goldman’s voice broke several times as he described how Sean had indeed idolized his father and how Dale had preyed at last upon those feelings.

“Sean never learned,” Goldman said in conclusion, clearing his throat to keep his composure, his voice finally tremulous, his eyes glistening, “or rather, I guess, he learned too late, when he snuck up behind him, what his father was really like and what he really meant to his father.

“You are Sean’s only chance for justice now. Thank you.”

Marian, Kevin and Charli were in court for Goldman’s closing argument, which moved them to tears and which Kevin said helped him to accept the awful necessity of having testified against his father. It had been a simple choice, really, difficult though it had been, between the murdered Sean and the murdering Dale. Not to have had the courage to testify would, as Steve Goldman said, have been to deny justice to the victim, not to speak of helping Dale go free to kill again. Kevin said that he hoped people would understand why he had had to do it.

“The people that matter will understand,” Charli said. “We can’t worry about the rest. They don’t matter.”

As for the verdict, they were not sure. Goldman and Dave Barron had warned them about the unpredictability of juries. But as Goldman had told the jury, if there was not already enough evidence in this case for a conviction, then no case could have enough.

Marian accompanied Kevin and Charli to their apartment to await the verdict, which they knew might take hours or even days to reach. The jury began deliberations at twenty minutes past four on Tuesday afternoon, one week to the day after their selection.

An hour and ten minutes later, the jury requested from Judge Luten further instruction as to the difference between first- and second-degree murder. The judge referred them to his original instructions, which defined the difference as that between premeditated murder and murder without deliberate premeditation.

At five minutes to seven, two hours and thirty-five minutes after they had begun deliberations, the jury returned with its verdict. The courtroom filled up again with the press and with Dale’s supporters; Kevin, Charli and Marian remained at the apartment and were not aware that the jury had taken so little time to reach unanimous agreement.

The jury’s foreman, Peter M. McLean, the twenty-six-year-old Hallmark employee, presented the verdict. The jury had found John Dale Cavaness guilty as charged.

Judge Luten asked each juror whether he or she agreed with the verdict; each replied in the affirmative.

Dale showed no emotion whatsoever as one juror after another reaffirmed his guilt in a steady, assertive voice. As was obvious from their manner, no jurors had doubted his guilt; the only discussion, and there had been little enough of that, had been on the question of premeditation. Dissent came from the rear of the courtroom in the form of murmurs from the visitors from Eldorado; other observers seemed pleased that justice had been done, among them two of the jurors from the first trial, who had come to see their work completed.

“It’s a long time coming and I’m happy with the verdict,” Steve Goldman told the press. Art Margulis expressed disappointment and looked pained when a reporter from the Kansas City
Star
said that Dr. Cavaness’s southern-Illinois supporters were questioning his judgment in calling such an inexperienced ballistics expert to counter such distinguished State witnesses as Drs. Gantner and Turgeon. “I can’t comment on that,” Margulis had to say. “It would be unethical.” He also had to make no comment when asked whether he had been paid in full. The story was, a reporter said, that the defense fund had dried up after reaching thirty-eight thousand dollars.

Margulis never did reveal whether he had been paid his full fee, but Jack Nolen, ever curious and resourceful, dug the story out from a couple of his private sources. Nolen heard that the doc, owing his attorney some twelve thousand dollars, had his supporters deliver to Margulis two expensive shotguns, one a Parker, which were supposed to be worth at least as much as the amount due. According to Nolen’s informants, the guns were fakes, which Margulis would discover if and when he tried to sell them. One way or another, the doc had managed to screw even his attorney. There was no telling what else the doc might accomplish before this was all over.

The jury remained sequestered for another night. On the following day the penalty phase of the trial would take place. The jurors would have to decide whether Dr. Cavaness was to be punished by life imprisonment or by death.

Steve Goldman telephoned Kevin, Charli and Marian with the news. They were relieved, and they thanked him. Kevin was alarmed to learn that Goldman wanted him to testify in the penalty phase, in which the prosecutor intended to seek the death penalty, to disclose some incidents which had been excluded from the first part of the trial.

With Goldman requesting the death penalty, Kevin feared that for him to speak out again against his father, after guilt had been established and after he had already played, as he knew, a crucial role in Dale’s conviction, would be like asking the jury to take revenge for him, for the family, for Sean. He was deeply uneasy about placing himself in that position. It was almost as if Goldman were asking him to become his own father’s executioner.

But Goldman assured Kevin that all the evidence, not merely the family’s testimony, had convicted his father. And the jury, not Kevin, would determine Dale’s ultimate fate. Deciding on life or death was their civic responsibility, which they had agreed to carry out. They were a fine jury. They had understood the complex ballistics evidence perfectly well. Dr. Gantner’s testimony, as well as Dale’s self-incriminating performance in court, had been the crucial points. If so skillful a lawyer as Art Margulis could not get Dale off, nobody could have. Now all that Kevin had left to do was to supply the jury with a few more pieces of information so that they could make an intelligent and just decision. That was what the courts were for: to relieve victims and their families of the burden of carrying out justice.

Kevin agreed to take the stand once again. That night they talked of what they thought the jury would decide. They concluded that Dale’s age—he was now sixty—would be taken into consideration and that he would be spared the death penalty. They agreed that they were satisfied with the conviction and being sure that Dale would be safely locked up forever.

“He won’t stay in jail,” Marian said. “He won’t be able to stand being locked up. I know him. He’ll kill himself.”

In the hallway outside the courtroom after the verdict was announced, Detective Dave Barron encountered the Reverend Staley Langham, who was carrying his projector and slides and who expressed bitterness that Art Margulis had not permitted him to testify on the doctor’s behalf. He had evidence that would have freed Dr. Dale. It was right there in those slides.

“There’ll be a new trial,” Reverend Langham told Barron, with some heat. “This one was a joke. It’s a travesty. We all know Dr. Dale was innocent. That was a farce in there and a miscarriage of justice.”

“Well, Rev,” Barron said, leaning over Langham, “I know you’re a man of the cloth, so you probably don’t bet. But I’d like to bet you a dinner that there won’t be any new trial. How about it?”

“I am not a betting man,” Langham said.

“What makes you so sure there’ll be a new trial?” Barron asked.

“We’ll show this was a farce. Your people lied. You know that. And Margulis was incompetent. Having an incompetent attorney is grounds for a new trial.”

“Oh, yeah?” Barron said, drawing closer, his voice rising. “Let me tell you something. If Art Margulis is incompetent, he sure as hell has fooled a lot of people and he sure gets paid a lot to be incompetent. Art Margulis is one of the best defense lawyers in St. Louis. There isn’t any better. The one thing he won’t do is turn a trial into a dog and pony show by putting jerks like you on the stand. He has too much respect for the court. Maybe that would work down where you come from, but we don’t go for that kind of garbage in St. Louis.”

Reverend Langham began shouting and waving his slides in the air: “Your evidence was phony! You lied! You perjured yourself! You falsified evidence!”

“Just a minute, Rev,” Barron said. “If what you say is true, you’re accusing me of a crime. Why don’t you go upstairs and swear out a deposition if you believe it? And let me tell you something, Rev. If I ever hear you saying that again, I’ll beat your ass in.”