Imperfect Justice: Prosecuting Casey Anthony (53 page)

Ultimately, it is this piece of the jury’s decision that I absolutely cannot understand: how could they disregard so much evidence showing that Casey had played a large role in Caylee’s death? Looking through the testimonies that we presented at trial, one thing that seems quite apparent is that, either through her own deliberate actions or through some kind of negligence, Casey was involved in her daughter’s death. There is simply too much evidence tying Caylee’s dead body to the car Casey was driving for me to believe that Casey herself was completely uninvolved.

Our case was not a slam dunk; we knew that from the start. It required work from us, it required work from the witnesses we’d called to present our evidence, and it required work, not to mention common sense, from the jury. From the moment our jury had been fielded back in May, we’d had concerns over their apparent absence of strong opinions as well as over the amount of effort they seemed willing to expend on this. In retrospect, I think those concerns were justified.

My worst fears from jury selection manifested themselves in the verdict. This jury needed someone to tell them exactly how Caylee died. Piecing it together from circumstantial evidence was not good enough for them. They wanted the answers on a silver platter, but we didn’t have the evidence to serve it that way. It’s not just the verdict that tells me this, but also the manner in which it was reached. The fact that they didn’t request any materials to review. The fact that they didn’t have any questions for the judge. If the statements that the foreman of the jury made to the media are true, ten of these twelve jurors felt that ninety minutes of deliberation was sufficient to fully weigh, consider, and reject four weeks’ worth of testimony that we on the prosecution used to establish that this was first-degree murder. The rest of the thirteen hours of deliberation had been spent trying to convince the two holdout jurors of the decision.

Juror Jennifer Ford, the only juror to identify herself, later said in an interview that “no one showed them how Caylee died.” My question would be: How hard in those ninety minutes did you look for it? The jurors had to put the pieces together and apply some common sense to the notion of how people do and don’t act. This jury was not willing to do that, so in a sense we lost before we started.

I
AM FIRST AND FOREMOST
a lawyer, and as such I believe in the system of trial by jury. It’s the best we have. That system can’t work if jurors aren’t free to follow their consciences and do what they think is right, without fear of condemnation. The system can’t work without it. But at the same time they take a sacred oath to honestly try the case and follow the law. We expect them to take that obligation seriously, and we entrust them to do their very best. The system can’t work without that, either.

We will never know if the jury followed the law in this case. We weren’t in the jury room with them. Judge Perry told them that George’s statement to River Cruz could not be used as evidence of how Caylee died. Did they follow that instruction and ignore that piece of evidence? Similarly, the Judge told them that what the attorneys say is not evidence, so they should have ignored most of the defense’s opening statement. Did they ignore the unsubstantiated idea that George had abused Casey? Absent some strong evidence to the contrary, I believe they followed the law.

Three of the jurors have given statements to the media, two anonymously and one by name. Having reviewed them all, I am pleased that it appears they did follow the court’s instructions. None of them seemed to give any thought to the unproven allegations of molestation or any of the other outlandish claims made by the defense in their opening statements. Along the same line, the defense’s repeated attempts to paint Casey as a victim ultimately fell on deaf ears, and no one seemed to believe Roy Kronk was seriously involved in anything beyond his discovery of the body.

Assuming they did follow the instructions, the question becomes one of reasonable doubt. We tell jurors that burden of proof is beyond a reasonable doubt, but defining that term is difficult. A reasonable doubt is not a speculative, imaginary, or forced doubt. We use concepts like “abiding conviction of guilt,” which ultimately means that the definition of “reasonable” is up to them. They must apply common sense, that knowledge of how people act by having lived in the world, to reach their own conclusion.

They presumably felt it was reasonable to believe that a mother would react to the accidental drowning of her young daughter by making no effort to revive her. They presumably felt it made sense that the mother’s next act would be to stuff her in a garbage bag and throw her in a swamp. If the jurors felt that those were “reasonable” reactions in keeping with what they knew about human behavior, then they had every right to feel that way and we have every right to disagree with them. I’d always said that if the jury saw the photograph of Caylee’s remains with duct tape over her nose and mouth and didn’t see in it what I did, then so be it. To me the duct tape was the one thing that could never be lied away, the one thing that said murder beyond a reasonable doubt, the one thing for which the defense had no explanation, and the one thing for which none of the jurors had any explanation in their post-trial interviews. Clearly, though, they disagreed, and we have no right to condemn them, no matter how angry the outcome may make us.

Throughout the weeks of the trial, I kept thinking that justice for Caylee would be sufficient to make the jury work harder and care enough to really think through what was reasonable. From the instant we showed the photo of Caylee’s remains with the duct tape and were met with no discernible emotion from the jury, I knew that it would be a struggle to make them care. Maybe there is something we could have done to make them care more or motivated them to think a bit harder about the evidence that we did have, but if there is I can’t think of it. We just couldn’t make them care more.

And perhaps that is the saddest part of all of this, that right up until the end so few people were willing to care about Caylee. Caylee got lost. I believe she was lost to Casey when she got in the way of the
“Bella Vita.”
She was lost to Cindy when Cindy chose to get behind Casey rather than lose her. And finally, I fear she was lost in the trial and never made it into the hearts of the jury members in the deliberation room.

There have been many cases in the past where juries have convicted people of murder based on less evidence, cases where the exact cause of death was unknown, or even cases where the body was never found. Part of it always comes down to the random and unpredictable variable of who shows up for jury duty. I do think that the outcome was influenced by the publicity and the difficulties it created for us in jury selection that I talked about before. I remember a conversation I had when we were debating whether to try and pick a jury here in Orlando and I said, “You might be able to get a jury here, but you’re not gonna like what you end up with.” I guess what applied to Orlando applied to Pinellas County as well. Maybe we should have gone farther away. Maybe to the moon.

I
N
S
EPTEMBER,
G
EORGE AND
C
INDY
Anthony gave their first televised interview since the verdict when they appeared on
Dr. Phil.
Watching both of them together, I found myself thinking of that day at our office when they came in, and we’d explained to them via their lawyer what Casey would be accusing George of at trial.

I thought about the look on George’s face then, and how utterly eviscerated he’d been by both the accusation itself and the idea that his daughter would make up such an outrageous claim. I remembered the sound of Cindy’s voice as she leaned over to him and said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” echoing a sentiment that everyone associated with this case had wondered at one point or another, yet it was the first time we’d heard Cindy say it. I recalled how sorry I felt for them in that moment—because they’d lost their granddaughter, but also because I could see just how hard it was for them to accept the reality of what their daughter had become.

In some ways that day at our office had changed everything and in other ways it changed nothing. While George’s demeanor toward us shifted for the better after that, Cindy’s remained largely the same. Now, months after that day, their disconnect appeared to have only grown more entrenched, and it was on full display on
Dr. Phil.
For anyone watching the segments, it was obvious that they were still going in opposite directions. Cindy was as rooted in her denial as ever, even going so far as to test out a brand-new “theory” about a seizure playing a role in Casey’s decision-making and Casey’s ability to help or protect Caylee. Meanwhile, George, in some of his strongest statements to date, appeared as though he was finally facing the reality he’d spent three years ignoring, saying that he felt Casey had played a role in Caylee’s death, though he could not say precisely what.

Replaying all of my various interactions with them over the years, it was hard not to feel frustrated all over again by the behavior each of them had displayed throughout this case. Difficult as they had been, though, neither of them deserved what Casey had put them through. I’m not sure how any parent bounces back from what they’ve experienced. My hope for them is that whatever their beliefs may be—whether it’s complete denial or tacit acceptance—they are able to heal and move on. To find a way to make themselves whole again. And perhaps someday, a while down the line, maybe even Cindy will finally have the fortitude and the hindsight to pick Caylee.

A
S A PROSECUTOR, ONE OF
the things that you never want to get good at is losing. I’m a competitive person and I like to win, but in a case like this the loss always feels worse, because the stakes are so much higher.

In many ways, it’s been strange for me during the months since the verdict to see such a high level of frustration with the verdict, one that’s usually reserved for the actual losing participants, spread across the country. On one hand it’s helpful to know that I’m far from alone in thinking that this verdict was the wrong decision. On the other hand, though, it’s odd how personally people took the decision. While I applaud everyone’s passionate support of justice for Caylee, it’s important to remember that as unsatisfying as this may be, this is how the system works. In general, you put your faith in the system, and usually it treats you right. Sometimes there is a case that manages to expose the flaws that exist, but that doesn’t mean the system is broken—just that it’s not something we can simply bend to our will.

Looking to the future, the trick for me, as well as for everyone else who finds themselves angry and frustrated, is how do we let go? How do those of us who haven’t forgotten Caylee in our hearts move on? Forgive? Not possible. Forget? No way.

There are no easy answers to these questions, but the one thing I’ve learned in my years as a trial lawyer is that you must accept the verdict. The law will not punish Casey. We have to come to terms with that. What we can all hope for instead is to turn that anger we feel into something positive. In the past, when faced with an outcome like this, I’ve always channeled my frustration into another case. I did this not because I wanted another chance at winning, but because I wanted to turn my frustration into something positive. And that is the best that those of us who want to remember Caylee can do. Turn your anger into something positive—hug your child, help someone else, keep a little closer eye out for the little ones you see running around. Justice is not just about what gets decided in the courtroom, it’s about how we should go about our lives and respect others. And in the end, that’s what it really means to remember Caylee.

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge some people without whom my career, this case, and this book would not have been possible. First and foremost, my mother and father, Barbara and Richard Ashton. Mom, everything I have accomplished in my life has been for one single purpose: to make you and Dad proud of me. We talked many times about how much he enjoyed watching me work and how much we both wished he could have been around to see this one. Love you, Mom.

Now to my wife, Rita. Thank you for putting up with me, listening to me bitch on the bad days and brag on the good ones. You were a single parent a lot this summer, and I know it was tough at times. I couldn’t have done any of this without you. We found each other later in life, but sometimes the best is saved for last. I love you.

To my kids, Adam, Jon, Becky, Alex , David, and Emma, I am proud of you all and love having you in my life. To David and Emma, sorry Daddy didn’t have much time to play this summer.

To Linda Drane Burdick, trial partner, work wife, and friend. This has been the best professional partnership of my career. You are truly one of the best lawyers I have ever worked with. I will forever be in your debt for bringing me in on this case.

Frank George, it was truly an honor to finally get to work with you. Your level head and sense of humor were a perfect complement to the team. Your skill and professionalism are your great assets and will serve you well in what will be a stellar career in law.

Lawson Lamar, thank you so much for allowing me to serve you once again on this case. Your constant support of our efforts is greatly appreciated.