Presumed Guilty: Casey Anthony: The Inside Story (67 page)

J
UDGE
P
ERRY ONLY GAVE US
one day to prepare for closing arguments, and I knew my closing arguments were going to be around four hours long. It was mostly a matter of organizing the exhibits and the order I wanted to present my arguments.

If you remember, I wrote my closing arguments first—before anything else, so I would know where we were and where we wanted to end up.

On the day of closing arguments, Judge Perry ruled that we had submitted enough evidence to show that Caylee had died by accidentally drowning in the pool, but that I couldn’t argue anything about Casey being sexually molested by her father or her brother because we hadn’t proved it or shown any evidence of it. As far as I was concerned, there was as much evidence of sexual abuse in this trial as there was about murder, and I could reasonably make the argument that there was significantly more.

There was no direct evidence. It was all circumstantial. I get that. But I argued that we showed that there was plenty of evidence: the paternity test done by the FBI to see if Lee was the father; that Casey hadn’t been to a gynecologist until she was nineteen years old; and that she had had her menstrual cycle since she was ten and that she had had an irregular menstrual cycle and other female problems. I mean, wasn’t that a pretty good indication that her parents were keeping her from a doctor so her sexual activity wouldn’t be found out?

Judge Perry sarcastically commented that he had never had one of those exams in his life.

“It is common sense,” I said. “Both sides will ask the jurors to use their common sense.”

I continued, “The court can make a reasonable inference from the hidden pregnancy, and there is evidence about Ms. Anthony’s sexual background and behavior that stems from sexual abuse. I spoke of her other behavior, the compartmentalization, the lying which is consistent with someone who has been sexually abused.”

“There’s no more evidence that this child was killed by chloroform than there is of sexual abuse. I think they’re equal. Both of these theories ask the jurors to draw from inferences, and the jury is going to hear arguments of chloroform and of duct tape, of which there is also no evidence.”

“While there are no witnesses, there is the testimony of Tony Lazzaro, that they had shared secrets. As the court knows, and as everyone knows, the testimony and the good faith basis is that the secret has to do with molestation, improper sexual behavior and incest. To ignore it or to pretend none of it exists just because someone didn’t get up on the stand and actually say it doesn’t make it less real. It’s the equal to what the state says about chloroform.”

“The court hereby finds that there’s no facts in evidence or reasonable inference that can be drawn therefrom that there is evidence that either Mr. George Anthony or Mr. Lee Anthony molested or attempted to molest Ms. Anthony.”

Here’s the crazy part. Judge Perry decided this on his own. The state didn’t make a motion to exclude this. He brought it up, and he ruled on it. In all my years of trying cases, I had never seen a judge do this before. Maybe some do, and I hadn’t seen it until then.

Maybe the prosecutors wanted the issue to go before the jury so they could argue against it, ridicule it, criticize it.

I don’t believe a judge should be making motions and objections.

Just before I got up to do my closing arguments, I was very calm and ready. I was actually anxious, looking forward to it, ready to do it. My co-counsel Dorothy Clay Sims, one who was never shy about holding back what she was thinking, was worried; just before I was about to get up, she handed me a list of things to say during the closing.

“How am I going to look at this now?” I asked, and I handed it back to her.

“Don’t worry, Dorothy,” I said to her. “I got this.”

With that I arose and did my thing.

I began by telling the jurors that I was sure they had more questions than they had answers. I’m also sure that you, my reader, do too.

“One question that will never be answered,” I said, “can never be proven, and that is,
how did Caylee die? What happened to her?
That evidence was never presented to you. In fact there were a great deal of things that you were probably looking for and never received.”

I told the jury that the state has to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt and to the exclusion of every reasonable doubt, that the prosecution gets to go last because it’s the state’s burden.

“It’s not a two-sided affair,” I said. “The state has the only burden here.”

I told the jury we had put on evidence and testimony, but that we weren’t required to do so.

“We could have sat back, not questioned one single witness, and done absolutely nothing throughout the course of this trial, and the prosecution still had the burden to prove every element and every charge.”

I then told the jury, after talking about my biggest fear, I would outline the state’s case piece by piece, and then talk about the defense’s case, “even though we weren’t required to do anything.”

“Let me start with my biggest fear,” I said. “This case deals with so much emotion. I know there were times where every single person here felt something deep inside.” I talked about the guidance the law gives them when it comes to their emotions.

I then showed them a huge exhibit of the Florida Rules for Deliberation, which read in part, “This case must not be decided for or against anyone because you feel sorry for anyone, or are angry at anyone.” And then I added, “and that’s because we want you to base your verdict on the evidence, not on emotion. And it’s my biggest fear because it’s such a difficult thing for you to push aside. Caylee Anthony was a beautiful, sweet, innocent child who died too soon. But to parade her up here to invoke your emotions would be improper.”

“It’s improper under the law, and it’s improper to the rules of your deliberation. And I submit to you, that is the way the state presented its case.”

“They started with—let me start with Mr. Ashton’s remarks to you today.”

“Mr. Ashton started out showing you a video of little Caylee, started talking to you about parenting, about what a mother should or should not do. He went on for a great length of time talking about this beautiful child. They gave you two weeks of testimony that was completely irrelevant and served only one purpose, and that was to paint Casey Anthony as a slut, as a party girl, as a girl who lies, and that has absolutely nothing to do with how Caylee died. And you would dishonor the law, and even Caylee’s memory, if you were to base your decision on anything but the evidence—to use emotion to get you angry is improper.”

There’s a backstory behind Ashton using that video of Casey and Caylee to begin their case. I also had possession of that video, and before I gave my closing arguments, Dorothy told me I should play it.

“You have to show the jury how much these two loved each other,” she said. “It’s important.”

“That’s come out already in the testimony,” I said. “What that’s doing is playing on the jury’s emotions, and I’ve been arguing from the very beginning that the prosecutor is the one playing on their emotions, so I can’t do that.”

“But this is too good a video not to play it,” she said.

“Sorry, Dorothy,” I said, “I just don’t think it’s the right thing to do. And I won’t do it.”

Lo and behold, Ashton got up to give his closing argument, and starts it by playing that same video!

I leaned over to Dorothy and said, “I told you he was on our side.”

“Though the state called a string of witnesses to testify to Casey’s bad behavior, what’s interesting is that everyone the state called kept coming back with the same thing: Casey was a good mother. Caylee loved Casey. I asked many questions as to how Caylee reacted to Casey because I thought it important that you understand that a child cannot fake this. A child cannot fake love. A child knows when someone is loved. It behaves a certain way. And I did this not to appeal to your emotion. It was especially directed at the child abuse charges.”

“You didn’t hear one single instance having anything to do with child abuse. Not one. Ask yourself, when did someone get on this stand and tell me or demonstrate to me in any way that Caylee was abused?” I could literally see jurors number three and ten nodding their heads.

“Child abuse cases are sad. They’re one of the most horrible crimes imaginable. One thing is for certain. If there’s an abused child, people know about it. People see bruises. People see different things about the child. There will be broken bones. But there was nothing other than the fact that this child was loved and well taken care of.”

The implication was clear. In discussing what happened to Caylee, the jurors would have to rely on the evidence.

“What was put before you? I agree with one statement that Mr. Ashton said, and that is you can’t speculate. Don’t speculate. Don’t guess. If you don’t know what happened, it wasn’t proven. There are no mysteries to solve here.”

This statement was directed to juror number one based on a conversation that she and I had during jury selection. I was reinforcing it, and when you do that you’ll have no greater ally in the deliberation room than someone who has been educated on the law.

I concluded, “If you have questions, then it was not proven. And that’s as simple as it goes.”

W
HEN
I
BEGAN MY CLOSING ARGUMENTS
, Ashton sat in his chair laughing, and grimacing, and making faces. It was something he did during my opening statement to the jury. Three or four times during the trial I brought it to Judge Perry’s attention at sidebar, and each time he dismissed my concerns about it.

We had a break, and I could see he was still doing it, so when we came back into court the very first thing I said to Judge Perry was, “Your Honor, I want to point out that Mr. Ashton continues to make faces and he is laughing during my closing arguments.”

“I haven’t seen him making any faces,” was Judge Perry’s response.

He was apparently blocked from seeing Ashton by the exhibits I had brought for my closing.

He’s going to let him get away with it
, I told myself.

I resumed my closing arguments and was on a roll, talking about George’s connection to the duct tape and the gas cans, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the laughter coming from Ashton. He was acting so inappropriately that I didn’t miss a beat when instinctively, reflexively, I pointed to him and said, “It doesn’t matter who’s asking the questions, whether it’s this laughing guy right here …”

Ashton jumped up and objected, and we went sidebar.

I was done with him.

This is not the way a trial should be run
, I felt. I was disgusted with the whole process and ready to accept responsibility for my actions.

This is not justice,
I told myself.

At sidebar Judge Perry could not have been more upset with me, and after sending out the jury for fifteen minutes, he laid into me.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t hold you in contempt of court for violation of this court’s order about not making disparaging personal remarks against counsel,” he said.

“I don’t believe that was a disparaging remark about counsel. I was just merely pointing out his behavior.”

He said I should approach the bench, and when I did, he said he could not see Ashton because of the exhibits.

“If you would move those signs where I can see Mr. Ashton, then I would be able to see him.”

“Sir, would you like me to move a seat over?” Ashton asked in his most unctuous way.

“Yeah,” said the judge.

I hadn’t gotten a lot of words out, when one of the court administrators told him, “It’s on TV, and you can see Ashton laughing.”

Judge Perry went into his back room and watched the video of Ashton carrying on. When he came back his anger was directed at Ashton.

He told everyone, “Go look at it, and I’m going to do what I need to do.”

“Your honor,” said Ashton, sucking up as only he could, “I trust your judgment about whatever it is you saw, and I don’t need to see it.” He went anyway.

He told us to go back and look at the video if we wanted to. We did, and there he was, laughing like he was at a comedy club, rather than a murder trial of a baby.

When we came back, Ashton told the judge, “Your honor, as I viewed the video, I appear to be smiling behind my hand. I wasn’t laughing. I wasn’t nodding. I was doing what I could to make sure that my expression was not seen by the jury. If I exceeded the court’s order, I apologize.”

I could see Judge Perry was about to do something—I didn’t know whether he was going to hold Ashton in contempt or not—or hold me in contempt for that matter—but I knew he was about to crack the whip and do something extremely harsh. I stepped up and said to him, “I would not request that Mr. Ashton be held in contempt because of his facial expressions. This case has been highly emotional for both sides, and all I really request is that it stop.”

When I did that, Judge Perry calmed down, and he let us off with a warning.

That day Kerry Sanders, a correspondent for NBC, called me and said, “What you did was a very gentlemanly thing to do. It was a class act.”