No, Daddy, Don't! (27 page)
Authors: Irene Pence
“No,” the doctor said. “I didn’t know any of that.”
Paul Johnson emphasized that the doctor had first been court appointed, which gave him the prosecution’s original stamp of approval even though he lacked some of Battaglia’s background information.
Howard Blackmon reminded the doctor that he had been called to evaluate the competency and sanity of Battaglia to stand trial, and had not been asked to investigate any bipolar aspect.
“It was the defendant who asked about the bipolar condition,” the doctor admitted. “Truth is the truth regardless of who’s paying for it. I didn’t begin to investigate the bipolar aspect until after I had made my report to the judge.”
The doctor smiled reassuredly and said, “I don’t have a dog in this fight. I testified last Saturday at another trial, and I said then that that man was at risk and would be a danger. I’m giving you my opinion.
“Mr. Battaglia was not insane,” the doctor allowed.
“He had a choice of murdering his children. But his lack of sleep, distress, extra work, and taking drugs impacted his bipolar disorder.”
On Monday morning, a week after the trial had started, John Battaglia’s parents entered the courtroom with his youngest brother and Kelly, the blond girlfriend who had called Mar y Jane the night of the murders to see if John could still keep his date with the girls. The faces of all four were sad and anxious.
The defense had presented a number of distinguished doctors. Now the prosecution had to rebut the testimony of those expert witnesses. They called Dr. Richard Coons to the stand.
Expensively dressed, the white-haired, bespectacled man seemed at home in the courtroom, as he had made 9,000 evaluations in the Houston area. He was both a psychiatrist and an attorney, and also had been a major in the Army Medical Corps, working as a forensic psychiatrist. Adding to his credentials, he had helped draft the Texas penal code on insanity, making it such a difficult defense to prove that it sent chills up defense attorneys’ backs.
The doctor had been thorough, giving John Battaglia psychological tests in addition to interviewing him and poring over his divorce files and taped phone calls.
Most telling was the interview he had conducted with John. The defendant had not been consistent with his answers to the psychiatrists. He told Stonedale and Gripon that he had killed the girls to keep them from living his life—from having his problems.
But Battaglia told Dr. Coons he’d become upset when he found out the camping trip had been canceled. The doctor began reading from his report, giving John’s account of the murders and it was quite a departure from what he had told the other psychiatrists. John told the doctor that some guns had been sitting out in his loft because he was going to get rid of them. That night in his loft, he heard a voice telling him to “do the right thing.” Faith was looking at him saying, “No, Daddy, no.” He told her that he loved her, and she said, “I know, Daddy.” He put the gun behind the back of her ear. Then he did the same to Liberty. He said he’d believed they needed to go together.
The doctor turned fully to the jury. “He knew he was killing his children and he did so out of anger and retribution. He had the mother on the phone to punish her. He was extremely frustrated that things weren’t going the right way. He felt that Mary Jean had her foot on his neck.”
Dr. Coons had serious concerns about how John Battaglia would act in prison, saying that “In the pen, it’s an in-your-face environment. John Battaglia had a significant violent history where neither protective orders nor probations were a deterrent to him.”
Collectively, the jury was leaning forward, turned in their chairs to face the witness, their eyes concentrating on him as he spoke.
Under questioning by Paul Johnson, Dr. Coons admitted that there was a hereditary passage of bipolar disorder from mother to son. He also recognized that John was bipolar, but had a milder form that wouldn’t prevent him from knowing he was killing his daughters.
Dr. Coons was the last witness. He stacked up his papers, stood up, and exited through the double doors of the courtroom.
Both sides rested.
F
ORTY-SIX
ORTY-SIX
On Tuesday, the last day of trial, Judge Warder opened court by addressing the jury. She told them that since they had found the defendant guilty of capital murder, it was their duty to determine his punishment.
“You will be given two questions. First, you must determine if John Battaglia will be a continuing threat to society. If your answer to that question is ‘yes,’ then you will be required to answer a second question. Were there mitigating circumstances in the defendant’s favor?
“But before you get to that, we’ll have the closing statements.” She nodded in the direction of the assistant district attorneys.
All three dark-haired prosecution attorneys wore dark suits, making them look like a handsome matched set. From that group, Pat Kirlin stood. He again had the task of leading the prosecution’s closing argument. First, he reminded the jury of the state’s position since voir dire—they were seeking the death penalty for what he phrased, “the ultimate act of revenge.” He refreshed the jury’s memory of the psychiatrists’ testimony, recalling that Dr. Crowder had presented a laundry list of excuses for John Battaglia’s actions.
“Would John present future endangerment? How about when he pointed a gun at his brother, Marc? It was not only his wives he assaulted. Now that assault has escalated to murder.
“He is capable of future violent acts against society. No one can force John to take his medication. There is no way to control what John will do in the future.
“John said that he shot his girls because he heard a voice telling him to ‘do the right thing.’ I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, when you are back in the jury room, do the right thing.”
With fourteen years experience as a defense attorney, Paul Johnson strode confidently to the jury box. Normally he wore a brown or tan suit to blend with his sandy hair, but today he wore a more dramatic dark navy suit, blue shirt, and red tie.
He picked up on Kirlin’s last line saying, “You are here because you told us you would do what was right. We wanted strong jurors, strong enough to give a life sentence.
“The defense never inferred that there was a question of guilt. The guilt is clear-cut. But can you not see that his mental illness plays a part? Did we not bring you medical credibility? It was the doctors’ opinion that if it weren’t for John’s bipolar disorder, this crime would not have occurred. For you to send a mentally ill man to be killed shows no more compassion than John Battaglia gave to his children.”
Johnson spoke unhurriedly, looking each juror in the eye. He kept his left hand casually in the pocket of his coat, while his raised right hand punctuated the air, giving emphasis to his words.
Recounting his impressive string of psychiatrists, he mentioned Dr. Edward Gripon whom the judge had appointed. “Let’s talk about credentials, folks. Both sides got his report the same day. That’s when the prosecution backed off using him.
“Bipolar is like pouring gas on a lit match. What we had the day of the murders was an explosion. But with John under medication, this last year has been a good predictor of future behavior.
“Whatever you do, John will never set foot in the free world again. Don’t put a man to death who acted out of illness. There are too many underlying causes for this to have been an act of revenge.”
The jury had listened attentively to the defense attorney, and now watched the chief prosecutor approach them.
Howard Blackmon had spoken softly during the trial. However, for his closing statement, he raised his voice, speaking more forcefully as he addressed the jury.
“The defense would like nothing better than to turn this into a debate between psychiatrists. But lets look at the facts.” He recapped the evidence that had been presented at the trial.
To show that this was no spur-of-the-moment, insane act, Blackmon reminded the jury that Battaglia had Faith call Mary Jean, and then waited until she could return the call and hear the slaughter of her children. Gesturing toward the defense, he said, “Their experts told you that bipolar made him do this. This was an act of meanness. This man has an unquenched thirst for vengeance.
“There is a confrontational environment in the pen. I pity the poor inmate that angers him. I pity the guard.
“Based on what you have heard this week and last week, I ask you to find that there are no mitigating circumstances in this case. Answer ‘no’ to that second question.”
At 11:22
A.M.
, the case went to the jury. By 2:44
P.M.
, the red button had flashed five times. Each time, the anxious attorneys stood waiting for the bailiff to answer the jury’s call. Each time, he came back with a written question for the judge.
A.M.
, the case went to the jury. By 2:44
P.M.
, the red button had flashed five times. Each time, the anxious attorneys stood waiting for the bailiff to answer the jury’s call. Each time, he came back with a written question for the judge.
Spectators had rushed to the cafeteria on the first floor for a dry hamburger or a wilted salad. They didn’t dare venture too far in search of better food. During the wait, John Battaglia’s parents sat red-eyed, holding hands on one of the wooden benches in the corridor, not too far from the entrance to the courtroom.
Nervous assistant district attorneys paced between their offices and the courtroom. Everyone had an opinion about what the long wait indicated.
Finally, at 5:55
P.M.
, the light flashed again. The jury had reached its verdict.
P.M.
, the light flashed again. The jury had reached its verdict.
Once the call went out, everyone came running. Suddenly, the courtroom pews were filled with excited people. The defendant huddled with his attorneys. Conversation grew louder as the gallery waited for the judge and the jury.
Judge Warder took her place at 6:15
P.M.
and asked spectators to leave if they couldn’t remain silent during the reading of the verdict.
P.M.
and asked spectators to leave if they couldn’t remain silent during the reading of the verdict.
The bailiff opened the door for the jurors, and twelve somber people trudged in. They looked physically exhausted—wrinkled clothes, tousled hair—and many had red eyes from crying. They made eye contact with no one.
John Battaglia and his attorneys again stood for the reading of the verdict.
Holding the form containing the jury’s decisions, Judge Warder read the questions again. “Question One. Would the defendant commit acts of violence and be a continuing threat to society. Answer: Yes.”
Question Two. Were there mitigating circumstances ? Answer: No.”
Judge Warder thanked and excused the jury, then turned to John Battaglia. She began, “You will be taken by the sheriff . . . on a designated date after six
P.M.
where [they] will carry out your sentence of death.”
P.M.
where [they] will carry out your sentence of death.”
Battaglia’s parents sat clinging to each other, their faces red and wet. As John stood he turned to them, and with a little smile he mouthed, “It’s okay.”
Mary Jean Pearle had waited for this moment one day short of a year. Somber faced, and looking drained and tired, she stood up and unfolded a wrinkled piece of paper as she walked to the front of the courtroom. In her mind, she had given the victim’s statement for months, but she had spent most of last evening putting the finishing touches on it. Having avoided John’s eyes during all of her testimony, she now stared directly at him as she began to read:
“On May 2, 2001, you chose to shatter my world forever by brutally terrorizing and executing the two sweetest, innocent, and kind babies in the world.
“The only two people in the world that cared for you and trusted you, their father, with their lives . . .
“You are one of the most heinous murderers of modern times. Hitler did not kill his own children. Dahmer didn’t kill his own children.
“Faith used to tell me, ‘I’ve got the worst father in the world.’ I’d say, ‘Oh, Faith, no you don’t.’ She’d say, ‘Okay, the second-worst next to the daddy in University Park that killed the mommy in front of the kids.’
“Well, Faith, you were right! He was the worst father in the world. Liberty hid under the bed, not wanting to go to dinner with you that Wednesday night. But I said, ‘Oh, it will be okay!’ I trusted you with their lives.
“Your cowardly, evil, and selfish nature also took a father from Laurie. Much less the life she could have shared with her sisters that adored her . . .
“I am what’s left of the goodness in them. They died with my love in their hearts and thought I might be able to save them. But to no avail. At least I know that I will be reunited with them in heaven forever.
“Until then, I will try to work to help others escape the domestic violence living hell you’ve put [us] through.
“Enjoy the new peers and lifestyle you have chosen. Don’t ever give me a second thought. I would like to say the next time you see me is when they put the needle in your arm. But I’m not going to waste the time to be there.
“For what you have done, my family, friends, and myself hope you burn in hell forever.”
Dorrace Pearle took the arm of her oldest son, Bobby Clark, as he escorted her through the crowd of friends congratulating them for winning the case.
Once they were out of the courtroom, Dorrace said, “Win? Win? What’s all this ‘win’ business? All we’ve done is lose. Oh, we’ve lost so much.”
Professor Michelle Ghetti teaches her family law students that domestic violence is always about power and control. John proved her point.
Since the murders, Mary Jean has remarried, but John’s final act will haunt her the rest of her life.
John David Battaglia’s power and control will finally end when he pays the ultimate price.
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