Imperfect Justice: Prosecuting Casey Anthony (34 page)

All that changed when Roy Kronk stumbled back into that Florida swamp. On December 11, 2008, the day Caylee’s body was found, Linda Kenney Baden entered the case. A defense attorney from New Jersey who was heavily involved with the forensic science community, Baden was the wife of Dr. Michael Baden, a celebrity forensic pathologist who was always on TV. I’d heard her name, but had never worked with her before, and my initial impression of her was not favorable. A month or so after she came on board, her new book,
Skeleton Justice,
coauthored with her husband, was released with much fanfare, so it was easy to speculate that she was chasing the spotlight. However, after taking witness depositions with her, I came to respect that she knew what she was doing and ended up enjoying her as opposing counsel.

During the early days of Baden’s involvement, Baez filed more than twenty “emergency” motions with the court, attempting to involve his experts in the processing of the crime scene and the evidence. One motion asked that their forensic pathologist observe our medical examiner, Dr. G, during her autopsy and for a second autopsy. The second autopsy was no problem for us, but Dr. G didn’t need any rubberneckers. Baez and Baden suggested that a forensic expert be appointed by the court to control the processing of the evidence. They also wanted what is called a special master, sort of an extension of the judge’s authority, to preside over their examination of the evidence, a process from which we would be excluded.

By January 8, we were in court hearing those and sixteen other “emergency” motions, most of which were either for materials they would have eventually received in the normal course of discovery or things they would never be entitled to anyway. We figured that most of the motions were drafted by Baden since they didn’t seem to show an in-depth understanding of Florida law. Ultimately, the majority of them were denied, but we agreed to give the defense access to the crime scene when the sheriff’s office was done.

Meanwhile, we filed a motion of our own to restrict the disclosure of photographs of Caylee’s remains. A while back we’d heard rumors that Jose had engineered Casey’s sale of photos of Caylee for $200,000 to ABC, and we did not want to see photos of Caylee’s body end up the same way. The defense agreed to the motion and so those photos were not seen in public till the trial.

Whenever an attorney becomes involved in the financial affairs of a client aside from the payment of fees, it is a matter of concern. We had no specific information, but our concern was that if something inappropriate had occurred that Casey didn’t know about, our entire effort might be undermined. Suddenly she would have a postconviction claim against her attorney because of conflict of interest.

We filed a motion asking the judge to hold a hearing in chambers to inquire and make sure that whatever deals had been struck, the defendant knew about them and waived any conflict. The defense was furious, and filed the first of many pleadings calling us every despicable thing you can think of. I remember that the judge seemed annoyed that we had raised the issue, but in the end I think he saw the wisdom in the precaution. The court had an obligation to ensure that counsel was free of conflict, so Judge Strickland set it for hearing.

We all went into the jury room on the twenty-third floor of the courthouse. Altogether there were the three of us along with Baez, Casey, Judge Strickland, and the court reporter. First, Judge Strickland inquired about the sale of photos and confirmed that Casey had sold the photos and videos of her daughter to ABC for $200,000, which was being used for her defense. Baez claimed the money did not go directly to him but was eventually deposited in his trust account, saying that his fee was $89,000 and change, and the rest was for expenses.

Baez stated that Baden had a separate contract with Casey directly, but that she had received no money yet. He indicated that he had no deals finalized for right to publication of any story nor did Casey. The judge did not make any more detailed inquiry into potential negotiations, but Casey did confirm the information provided by Baez that she had sold the photos.

I was so disgusted by her at that moment. At the time when the sale had taken place, I was confident that Caylee was already dead and that Casey knew it. What kind of mother would sell pictures of her dead child for profit? I was also upset with ABC for participating in such checkbook journalism. I would have liked to inquire further about potential deals being cut, but clearly the judge felt that was enough and was not in the mood to press further. Ultimately, I was satisfied that we had done all we could to avoid that potential land mine.

When Baez and company finally ran out of money in March 2010, and Casey was found indigent, it was clear that the State was not going to pay expenses for out-of-state attorneys to travel. We suspected that Baden would probably bail out, but to her credit, she stayed on through the completion of the depositions of the forensic experts, and finally withdrew in October 2010.

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VERY TIME A NEW ATTORNEY
joined the defense team, Baez touted him or her as having special expertise, whether it was in forensics, cross-examination, or procedure. The media ate it up. It seemed as though everyone who hooked up with the defense was suddenly anointed a great lawyer and part of the “dream team.” But O. J. Simpson’s, this defense was not.

Perhaps the strangest entrant to the case was Todd Macaluso, a personal injury shark from California. As required of any attorney from another state who is not a member of the Florida Bar, Macaluso filed a motion seeking the court’s permission to enter
pro hac vice,
or “for this occasion.” These are motions by lawyers who have not been admitted to practice in a certain jurisdiction, but are allowed to participate in particular cases. In the filing, Macaluso was required to state that he was a member of the California Bar, in good standing, without discipline pending.

He filed that form making that declaration, but Linda went online with the California Bar and discovered that he was under investigation for some questionable acts with clients’ money. One of our local reporters also discovered this, and asked Baez about it before we could spring it on them in court. Macaluso filed a corrected pleading, blaming his secretary for the oversight. Judge Strickland let him be involved in the case despite the pending investigation.

Later on, at the indigency hearing where we learned that the defense was out of money, we also found out that Macaluso had bought his way into the case by giving the defense $70,000. In truth, he had very little actual involvement in the case. He spoke only once in court, to make a claim about how many searchers had looked in the area on Suburban Drive. He was eventually suspended in California over the discipline issue and withdrew from the Casey Anthony case in April 2010.

In April 2009, when we announced our decision to seek the death penalty, the defense was required by law to have a qualified death penalty case lawyer on its team. There was talk that Terrie Lenamon would reenter the picture, but he did not want to come back on board. In an interview with
Orlando Sentinel
columnist Hal Boedeker in May 2009, Lenamon explained his decision. For starters, he had had few interactions with Casey. He also said that he and Baez had “a disagreement over strategy over mental-health mitigation,” a statement that I interpreted as meaning that Lenamon had suggested a route to take and Baez had disagreed with him. Because Baez was lead counsel, his way prevailed.

In his interview with Boedeker, Lenamon went on to say that he felt media attention was going to be a problem for the case. Furthermore, Lenamon expressed concern that “the death penalty lawyer who will be brought in will be rubber-stamping a preplanned defense.” He then went on to add that “whoever that [death penalty] lawyer is has to be independent of the strategy in evaluating the case.”

“I am hopeful they bring in some big-shot death penalty lawyer,” he said. “I will be the first one to say it’s the best move Mr. Baez has made since bringing me in.”

In the end Baez did just that, as another lawyer, Andrea Lyon, joined the case. Andrea was a capital death penalty attorney in Chicago and a true believer in the abolition of the death penalty. She was a clinical professor at DePaul University in Chicago, and was the director of the Center for Justice in Capital Cases there. We would later learn that the center had added funds to Casey’s defense pot.

From the start Lyon seemed quite capable; she is a big woman with a forceful presence. I remember one of my first conversations with her. Linda, Frank, and I were in the elevator and she told us that the defense wouldn’t be having any more of those unseemly press conferences that Jose was so fond of. I was briefly optimistic that perhaps things were changing. Then they quickly proceeded to hold a press conference, and then another, and many, many more. Lyon, like Baden, also had a book coming out,
Angel of Death Row: My Life as a Death Penalty Defense Lawyer,
coauthored with Alan Dershowitz. In January 2010, she told
Today
show host Meredith Vieira that Casey “didn’t kill her kid.” But Lyon declined to discuss any evidence she had seen to support her claim. I thought that Illinois had the same rule as Florida against making pretrial statements; oh well, I guess I was mistaken.

An Orlando defense attorney got in trouble with a local defense attorneys’ association for leaking a speech Lyon made at a death penalty conference, Life After Death, held in Orlando in 2008, where she made a very unflattering sexual reference to female prosecutors going home and putting on their “strap-ons.” We took it as a reference to a dildo—classy broad. The press had a field day, especially since the lead prosecutor in the Anthony case was a woman. Other statements Lyon made at that conference also created a stir, including her comments that judges are “ugly” and jurors are “killers.”

To familiarize herself with Lyon, Linda reviewed the entire speech. Within the speech Lyon made repeated reference to her preferred defense tactic, creating an alternative suspect. Linda was of the opinion that Lyon was behind the defense’s campaign to attack Roy Kronk, the utility worker who had found Caylee’s remains. Shortly after Lyon entered the case, Mortimer Smith, an investigator who worked for her center, was digging into Kronk’s past.

While Lyon was quite a charismatic adversary, the lawyer who, aside from Baez, would be there the longest arrived in March 2010. Cheney Mason was an Orlando lawyer touted in the press as having a stellar reputation. He’d made statements to the press in the past as a consultant, in which he questioned some of the things Baez was doing, so we were a little surprised, but we all knew Cheney and knew he craved the limelight. Linda, Frank, and I had each known Cheney for years and thought well of him. I can’t recall if I had ever actually done a trial with him, though I had watched Linda in trial against him a year or so earlier. Cheney was in his sixties by then and quite a character. He probably won’t like this, but we had always referred to him as Foghorn Leghorn, in that his accent and speech pattern were a spot-on match to that lovable Looney Tunes rooster. Cheney tended toward the bombastic—not really a details guy on either the law or the facts, but he could be very persuasive.

Most of all, though, he was experienced and pragmatic. When he first got involved, I think he wanted to ride in on his white horse and resurrect this failing defense. We always hoped the addition of a new, reputable attorney would class up the defense team’s tactics. Unfortunately, we would find in the weeks and months ahead that instead of Cheney raising Baez to his level of professionalism, Baez seemed to bring Cheney down to his.

The first time I saw Mason in court with Lyon, I knew they were oil and water. Mason was an old Southerner type who seemed fine with women in certain roles, like being protégés, but seemed to have trouble with women who were his professional equals. He showed that side in his dealings with Linda once, not a mistake you want to make twice. Lyon, meanwhile, was a big-city lawyer who could give as well as she took. Big city versus old country, we on the prosecution team knew this would be fun to watch. He would say disrespectful things to us about motions Andrea had filed, such as how ridiculous they were. You could tell they would never get along. As predicted, Lyon would leave the case as soon as the death penalty motion was argued, citing cost issues.

Ann Finnell entered the case in September 2010. Ann was a very experienced capital litigator, much like Andrea Lyon, only less abrasive. I actually liked working with Ann, though I am sure she was not happy to be working on Baez’s team. There were a number of occasions when she would lament to me privately about what an insane situation this was, referring to the lack of coherent management in the defense team and how she regretted getting involved.

The last to enter was Dorothy Sims, a civil lawyer from Ocala. She was touted as an expert in cross-examination of medical experts. During trial, however, she was relegated to the role of hand-holder and gal Friday. I thought Baez and Mason treated her very disrespectfully.

Ultimately, this defense team was not Kumbaya. It was all about who could survive in what was undoubtedly a difficult atmosphere, one in which Baez would perpetually govern every decision. When the dust settled there were four left standing, the four that would be our opposition for the trial: Baez, Mason, Finnell, and Sims.

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