Kiss of the She-Devil (36 page)

As far as murder trials went, Walton considered the case not to be as easy as it might have seemed from the outset.

“We had four cases,” he said. “Initially we were going to do two trials. It’s always a juggling match. You have to be on top of your game and watch as the evidence is presented because juries are ushered in and out of the courtroom depending on whose case is being talked about.” It can get maddeningly confusing for jurors. “You always want to make sure you’re giving a consistent version or that the evidence is coming into the cases consistently.”

How am I going to convince a jury that this woman was a murderer if she had not left the state of Florida
? Walton pondered over and over again.
How am I going to convince a jury that Sybil wasn’t some sort of undereducated, manipulated person who was easily led, and that maybe the jury should have some sympathy for her?
These were the number one anomalies that kept playing in the APA’s mind.

The driving force Walton had going for him in that regard became, as he put it, that “the case was thoroughly investigated, and I was confident we had
every
piece of evidence we could squeeze out of it. It came down to making sure we presented a consistent and cohesive train of evidence.”

66

N
OT YET OFFICIALLY
winter, it had been one of the worst she could recall since moving to Michigan from Texas almost five years prior. Emily Fulton left work early one day to catch the afternoon session of jury selection, and the snow came down in a whiteout. It seemed there was a foot on the ground already as she drove. To begin with, she did not want to go to court. Here was this crazy snow coming down and driving was hazardous. It was too much: the pressure of hearing the details about her mother’s murder, her father being there, the anxiety of the weather. Emily started crying.

“Someone once told me that, sometimes, when it rains, it is our loved ones from Heaven looking down at us and crying because they miss us,” Emily later reflected. “I think the same is true of the snow, because during this time I felt so much sadness and anger, and the snow seemed to be a physical manifestation of it all.”

Voir dire had begun on November 21, 2000. Those asked by mail to serve their community were ushered into the courtroom in groups, asked questions, and ultimately a jury of Donna’s and Sybil’s peers was chosen. Donna and Sybil were being tried together (and also sat together inside the courtroom). It was a smart move. Why go through this process twice?

Many in Gail’s family had come to Michigan for the trial. They all sat together and settled in for what was going to be a bumpy, emotional ride.

The jury was in place by Monday, November 27, and Judge Richard Kuhn gave Paul Walton the go ahead to address the men and women chosen to hear the case. Walton was a fair man who understood the subtle intricacies of a courtroom that only an experienced trial attorney could. More than that, Walton was a realist with matters of the court; he was not one of these prosecute-regardless-of-the-evidence types of hardnosed DAs looking to climb a political ladder. Walton wanted justice served, regardless of whether it tasted good to his palate. The case he had built against a woman who had been romantically burned, and had come back to seek revenge on the wife she saw as the sole source of all her anguish, was simple in terms of
why:
Donna Trapani viewed Gail Fulton as an obstacle in the way of her man.

Sybil Padgett and the others were the means to that end.
Their
motive was monetary. Donna’s was more cerebral and psychologically deep-seated.

After explaining how Gail walked out of the library unknowingly into the hands of her murderers, this straitlaced, loving, charming, devout, and caring woman had no idea she was going to be the “victim of a contract killing. A murder,” Walton said loudly, “that was masterminded and put into motion by
this
woman”—he pointed at Donna, who looked down and away—“Donna Kaye Trapani!”

Walton listed the reasons why Gail was murdered. One of which turned out to be the “dedication to her family,” he said.

He called Donna the “rebuffed and aging lover to George.” And when George decided to return home and rekindle his relationship and marriage, watch out! Donna took that as Gail Fulton crossing a line in the hot Florida sand.

“Failing in her bid to win back George,” Walton said, shaking his head, reacting to how silly it all sounded, yet how evil and spurious, “immediately I think of a quote when talking about this case . . . and it goes something like this: ‘Heaven has no rage like a woman—a woman’s love turned to hatred. Nor hell knows no fury like a woman scorned.’ Failing in her manipulation to win George back, she decided she was going to kill Mrs. Fulton. A plan [that] was executed with deadly precision. . . .”

Walton talked about how the murder went down, step by step. He mentioned details. He spoke of those chilling moments when Gail looked down the barrel of a gun and into the eyes of her killer—but undoubtedly saw Donna’s face. He mentioned how Sybil and Patrick and Kevin tore out of the parking lot after mowing Gail down in a hail of gunfire and quickly drove back home to seek their monetary reward. He called Donna the mastermind several times to implant that image in the minds of jurors. He called Gail’s death a “contract killing”—maybe more times than he should have—but he made the point that this murder was the plot of
one
woman.

When they returned to Florida from Michigan, Walton explained, pausing first to allow the jury and gallery to focus on what he was going to say next, the well-spoken prosecutor lowered his voice and described how Sybil, Kevin, and Patrick went directly to Donna to “collect their money for a job well done.”

His point was made: These were vile creatures that killed an innocent woman who had done more good for more people within twenty-four hours of her life than they had likely done combined throughout
all
their lives. These killers, Walton implied, were selfish people who took it upon themselves to judge and condemn a woman for nothing more than loving her husband. And even among those who had admitted to the crime already, remorse or sympathy was hard to find. Kevin said he’d killed Gail in cold blood. Patrick said he’d planned and watched. Neither said it had made him feel bad or that he was the least bit sorry for committing such a violent act. It was as if by admitting to the crime, each should be rewarded.

Walton took a moment to go through the charges and make sure jurors understood each count and how his office had legally reached those charges. This was where Walton broke down that one bothersome aspect of the case he felt he faced going in: making sure jurors knew exactly how a woman could commit a murder and yet be in another state when the act took place. He used words like “aided” and “abetted.” He explained the legalese behind “intent to kill.” He outlined the cool contemplation, scheming, and measured acts of violence Donna had planned methodically, making a solemn point, giving everyone in the courtroom a closer look into Donna’s mind-set and thought process as she began planning Gail’s death: “The intent to kill was premeditated and deliberate. This simply means that the defendant considered the pros and cons of the killing and thought about her actions
before
choosing.”

Donna Trapani had gone up to Michigan and proclaimed her pregnancy to Gail. She said she was dying. That didn’t work. Then she drove home. She sent George e-mails begging him to come back to her. That didn’t work, either. So she carefully and evilly decided Gail would have to pay for George’s decision to diss her. And maybe, when George finally woke up, he would come crawling back to her.

Ending his opening statement, Walton went through the day-to-day mechanics of the affair and how Donna became a marginalized woman hell-bent on revenge. Most were probably sitting, listening to how this relationship unfolded and then fell apart—and how George brought Donna (who claimed to be pregnant and dying) up to meet his wife—and thought why in the world did Donna kill Gail if she had felt so betrayed? Why not put a cap in the back of George’s ear? If Donna was truly a woman belittled by a man she had devoted her heart to, why had she taken revenge on his innocent wife?

Simple: Donna Trapani hated Gail. That argument was made by the recurring criticisms and hasty gestures and mean-spirited remarks Donna had made about Gail whenever she mentioned her in a letter, fax, or e-mail. Donna got off on the idea that Gail would suffer. Donna felt fuzzy inside thinking about Gail being taken out of the picture so she could then move in and pick up the pieces of George’s shattered life.

Larry Kaluzny began by asking the jury why they were in the courtroom, pointing down at the table he stood near.

Kaluzny answered his own question by paying respects—as infinitesimal as they were—to the one person who is generally forgotten once a murder trial gets under way: the victim.

“We are here,” the highly regarded attorney said, “obviously because Gail Fulton was killed.” But also, he added decisively, “Because Donna says, ‘I’m not guilty.’ Make no mistake about that. Whether she testifies or not, she tells you,” he said, pausing, looking at each juror, “‘I am
not
guilty.’”

As many defense attorneys will do during opening arguments, Kaluzny broke into a canned speech about the
facts
of the case and how jurors should judge a defendant on those
facts
alone.

The problem with this argument is that most juries judge a defendant by her appearance, demeanor—if a defendant smiles, if she laughs, if she scratches herself the wrong way, if she whispers to her lawyer too many times, if she testifies, if she closes her eyes when she’s not supposed to, if she cries or doesn’t cry, and so on. Juries do this first. And then, maybe, when they begin deliberations, only then do they talk about
facts
and evidence. But judgments are made first, no doubt about it. No matter what any potential juror says during the voir dire process, he or she is judging a defendant the moment that defendant sits down. Jurors are human beings, obviously, and people like to judge other people. Everyone draws conclusions about others based on a list of personal hang-ups, reservations, insecurities, self-esteem issues, and makes immediate decisions. This does not change because a person has sworn an oath. Yet defense attorneys—many of them—refuse to address this concern in their openings. Instead, like Larry Kaluzny, they belabor this idea of sticking to the
facts
of a case and basing the verdict on those facts.

“We ask that you be conscientious,” Kaluzny told jurors, “as you listen to the
facts
of this case—of credible evidence”—and here came the defense hammer walloping the prosecutor—“not of just
theory
. Of believable facts. Not anger. Of reliable facts. Not vengeance. A precious life is gone, other lives have been touched by that, and another life is at stake here as well.”

Then came a little preachy rhetoric all defense attorneys spew when speaking about how juries should never, ever
presume
guilt (yet they all do). Leave that to the cops and prosecutors, Kaluzny jabbed, almost laughing. They, he added,
always
presume guilt. They have to whenever they step into a case.

“Juries presume innocence,” he said, slowing down. “That presumption is strong, and it exists as we sit here now.”

Thanks for pointing that out, there, Mr. Defense Attorney.

Kaluzny went on and on, trying to stay as far away from those
facts
as he could. Because, when anyone studied the bare bones of this case, it was inside those
facts
that Donna was going to meet the iron lock of the steel door closing in on her freedom.

67

S
YBIL PADGETT’S ATTORNEY,
Raymond Correll, mimicked Larry Kaluzny’s arguments. There was not much difference between the two cases—albeit one defendant was now accusing the other of acting on her own, while the other was saying she had been programmed to kill because of the threats and manipulation of the other. Donna Trapani manipulated Sybil Padgett. She hung things over her head. She dug up rotten things about Sybil at work, threatened to go to the authorities and report Sybil for falsifying records, and forced the weaker woman in the friendship into finding her a killer. One could argue all day why Sybil did not go to the police, but it would not solve the situation of bringing Gail back to her family and her killers to justice.

Walton started with Barbara Butkis, the library worker who first spotted Gail lying in the parking lot, bleeding to death. This image of a librarian gunned down in the parking lot of what is a solemn, peaceful, nonthreatening public space was disturbing and chilling. It brought tears to Barbara’s eyes as she recalled those violent memories now embedded in her psyche. Those in the gallery swallowed lumps, twisting and turning in their seats, as Barbara described Gail’s final moments and the panic Barbara developed as she realized Gail had been shot.

“You said you noticed an injury to her head?” Walton asked several questions into the testimony.

“Yes,” Barbara replied, “because I kept looking all over to see if there was something I could do for her. And noticed”—she paused, caught her breath—“and noticed . . . there was a hole at the top of her forehead.”

Many in the courtroom gasped.

“About how big was the hole?”

“It was just a . . . Well, I guess it was just a small one that I could tell.”

And so Barbara set the stage, giving jurors a clear picture of the end result: Gail Fulton lying in a pool of her own blood, wheezing for her last breaths, undoubtedly praying to God. But even more, Barbara was also able to interject Gail’s working schedule into the trial, which proved it was not a normal nine-to-five, Monday-through-Friday, working-class routine. For someone to know when Gail was at work, he or she would have had to know Gail or have stalked her.