Mike on Crime (14 page)

Canadian air force pilot Julian White would never forget the desperate search for his good friend, Dru Sjodin, or the void left in his life by her tragic death. White, who was currently living in Moose Jaw, Sask., was one of the first witnesses to testify. He was also one of the last people to speak with Sjodin and raced around Grand Forks the night she disappeared hoping to find a trace of her. “She was a bubbly, happy girl. Everybody loved her. She was an American sweetheart,” White told reporters outside court after finishing his day on the witness stand.

White met Sjodin while both were attending the University of North Dakota. White—who returned to Canada after completing his aviation studies—was dating Sjodin's roommate, Margaret Flategraff, at the time. He was in Toronto on the day Sjodin went missing but spoke with her briefly around noon. Sjodin mentioned she was on her way to work. White told jurors he flew to Winnipeg and then drove back to Grand Forks later that evening. He arrived at his girlfriend's apartment to learn Sjodin hadn't been heard from since her phone went dead in a conversation hours earlier with her boyfriend.

“I went out to look for her and was driving the route between Dru's apartment and the mall. I drove all around but I found nothing,” White told court. White said he even checked one of the parking lots at Columbia Mall but didn't see her car. Police found it hours later in another nearby lot.

Flategraff testified how she called 911 when Sjodin didn't come home that night. Several other concerned friends gathered at her apartment to worry and wait. Danielle Mark, a sorority sister of Sjodin's, told court how they'd gone out for dinner the previous night following a fun-filled “initiation” week. She tried to call Sjodin several times on the evening she went missing and couldn't understand why there was no answer.

WEDNESDAY AUGUST 16, 2006

They were begging him to take them to a body—but Alfonso Rodriguez refused to admit guilt despite a crumbling alibi and mounting evidence against him.

“You're in a position where you could end this investigation...I think you can take us to that girl,” a clearly desperate Dan Ahlquist of the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension told Rodriguez in one of three audiotaped interviews played for the jury. “There are lots of things that could make this not so bad. Showing you care for the outcome of the investigation would help. If this were to drag on, it would hurt your Mom. The family of the girl is hurting right now. They'd like to know where she is,” he said. “It would better your position to be the helper, instead of just giving silence.”

The pleas fell on deaf ears as Rodriguez refused to budge from his position that he wasn't involved in crime. “I didn't do nothing. What do you want me to admit to something I didn't do? I've never met that girl. I've never talked to her. I've never seen her until I saw her in the paper,” Rodriguez said during one of his three Nov. 26, 2003 interviews.

Ahlquist described how investigators honed in on Rodriguez after compiling a list of seven known sex offenders living in the immediate vicinity through a national sex offender database. Rodriguez—who had just been released from prison in May 2003 after serving a 23-year sentence for kidnapping and rape—was the first to be interviewed because he had the worst history of all those on the list, said Ahlquist. The interviews began with Rodriguez admitting he was in Grand Forks on the day Sjodin went missing but claiming it was a non-eventful trip. “It was pretty quiet, not too much of anything,” he said. He claimed he did some early afternoon shopping before going to a movie around 4:30 p.m. and being in the theatre until 7 p.m. Sjodin was grabbed at 5 p.m. It hadn't taken him long to strike.

TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 5, 2006

It took less than four hours for jurors to reach their verdict. Alfonso Rodriquez was guilty. But this was just the first legal hurdle. Now prosecutors would begin telling—and graphically showing— jurors why they believed Rodriguez should be sentenced to die. Close-up photos of a bound and battered Dru Sjodin, references to God and accounts of Rodriguez's criminal past would all be presented as part of the prosecution's sentencing bid. Jurors would then have to begin deliberating whether Sjodin's killing meets the eligibility requirements for Rodriguez to be sentenced to death under federal law.

If they ruled it didn't—as Rodriguez's lawyers urged—the case would immediately end with Rodriguez being sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole. If they ruled it did—as prosecutors strongly urged—jurors would continue sitting for a final phase of the case that would involve additional evidence and argument on the sole point of whether Rodriguez lived or died.

Defence lawyer Richard Ney told jurors they had already given Rodriguez a “death sentence” and said there was no need to inflict further punishment. “Alfonso Rodriguez will die in prison. You've already decided that. The thing to decide now is whether that will happen when God decides or when man decides,” Ney said during his opening statement. Prosecutor Drew Wrigley immediately objected to the statement. Erickson told Ney “we've had enough” and ordered him to move on. Ney admitted Sjodin's death was “terrible” but said it didn't meet the legal definition of being “especially heinous, cruel or depraved.”

Rodriguez had three prior sex-related convictions. Two of his three former victims were called to the witness stand to describe how their lives had suffered as a result of the attacks. The evidence could be used by jurors to weigh Rodriguez's fate.

One woman, who was 18 at the time she was raped in 1974, said she was still battling depression, anxiety and thoughts of suicide. She described having a breakdown only days earlier which involved barricading herself in a bedroom, pushing furniture up against the door and arming herself with a flute. She also admitted to being admitted to mental health facility last winter. “I was having suicidal thoughts. I was grieving. My brother had died. And Dru Sjodin had died,” she said, fighting back tears. She also described several failed relationships, including two divorces.

The other victim, who was also sexually assaulted by Rodriguez in 1974, described dropping out of college following the attack and many years spent as a transient living in her car and doing odd jobs across the United States. “It seemed like nothing made any sense anymore, in terms of having any hope, faith for the future. All of that seemed broken,” she said. “I was looking for a fresh start. But I found out it was something you couldn't really run from,” she said. The woman had since turned her life around, got married and found full-time work but said she always remembered what Rodriguez did to her. “It just eats at you. You think about it every second,” she said.

The most explicit evidence came when jurors were shown several close-up photos on large television monitors of Sjodin's decomposed body as it was found. There were also images of her bound wrists. Sjodin's friends and family, including both parents, were visibly upset and darted their eyes to avoid seeing the pictures, which prosecutors showed to enhance their argument that Rodriguez deserved to die.

In his final argument, Ney told jurors federal death penalty provisions require certain evidentiary tests must be met in terms of planning. Ney suggested there is no evidence of a cold-blooded killing and that while Rodriguez may have planned to kidnap Sjodin, the murder wasn't something he anticipated. “This was a crime of immediacy, of impulse. It was very disorganized,” said Ney.

But Wrigley told jurors they should have little doubt about what Rodriguez planned to do. “Don't let anyone draw your attention away from Alfonso Rodriguez and how he terrorized Dru Sjodin in her final hours,” he said. “The facts regarding his intentions are very clear and very troubling.”

It didn't take long to reach their decision. Jurors concluded on their second day of deliberations that the case certainly met the requirements for a death penalty sentence. Now the only question left to answer was whether they would dish out the ultimate penalty. There were three final steps jurors would have to consider:

1. Had prosecutors proven beyond a reasonable doubt there were “non-statutory aggravating factors” present in this case? Those factors involved the emotional impact on Sjodin's family and friends.
   
2. Had Rodriguez proven there were any mitigating factors in his favour? Defence lawyers claim there were many, including remorse and exposure to toxic chemicals, sexual abuse and racism.
   
3. Did the aggravating factors outweigh the mitigating factors?
   

Judge Ralph Erickson told jurors it was not a contest to see whether there are more aggravating factors or mitigating factors, but rather a question of weight. And jurors had to be unanimous on the question of death, or else the sentence would automatically be one of life in prison with no chance of parole.

MONDAY SEPTEMBER 11, 2006

Prosecutors went straight for the heart of the jury, with several members reduced to tears as they listened to moving tributes to the young victim. Dru Sjodin's mother, father, stepfather, boyfriend, roommate and good friend all took the witness stand to offer painful glimpses into how Sjodin's death impacted them.

“My world exploded,” Sjodin's mother, Linda Walker, told court. “She was a soft, tender, caring child. She was a wonderful contributor to society. A daughter, a sister, a friend. I was excited for her future.”

Sjodin's stepfather, Sid Walker, described the raw emotion that followed her devastating death. “Linda would wake up at night, screaming. I felt helpless. All I could do was hold her,” he said.

Allan Sjodin, Dru's father, said she left a lasting impression on all who knew her. “She was my baby. People would be drawn in by those beautiful blue eyes of hers. Once you met her you didn't forget her,” he told jurors. “We've lost the love of our life. We struggle with every second of every day.”

Sjodin recalled his final meeting with his daughter just days before her death. He had already said goodbye and driven away but was suddenly struck by a “panic attack” after going about eight kilometres. “I turned around, went back and told her I needed to give her another hug,” said Sjodin.

Dru had been dating Chris Lang for several months before her death and the couple seemed destined for a bright future together, court was told. “Her smile was very captivating. She was a kind soul. It was real,” Lang told jurors in his statement. “She treated me like I mattered. She made me feel wonderful about myself.” Lang said he called Sjodin ”my lovable goofball” and felt she could achieve anything she set her mind to. Sjodin was hoping for a future in the arts or photography and often dazzled loved ones with her sketches, paintings and pictures. “She really seized life, every minute. There was so much ahead of her. Everything was blooming,” he said.

Danielle Mark, one of Sjodin's best friends, recalled how she took great pride in doing volunteer work with underprivileged kids and raising money for diabetes and victims of crime. And Sjodin's former roommate, Meg Flategraff, told jurors how Linda Walker was a bridesmaid at her recent wedding. “She stood in for Dru because she couldn't be there,” she said.

Defence lawyers had objected to much of the heart-wrenching testimony being heard and even moved for a mistrial once the prosecution had called all its evidence. Judge Ralph Erickson refused, saying there was no prejudice to Rodriguez.

In his opening statement, prosecutor Drew Wrigley said the death penalty was the only fit punishment for an “intentional, heinous, cruel and tortuous crime.” “The facts in this case cry for justice,” he said.

TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 12, 2006

Alfonso Rodriguez's elderly mother made a tearful plea for her son's life by painting a glowing picture of a “kind, loving” man who struggled in life because of brain damage caused by exposure to toxic farm chemicals. Dolores Rodriguez showed jurors several pictures of Alfonso as a toddler as she described her fears that he will be sentenced to die. “I would suffer. I'm not in good health,” wept Dolores, who had to use a walker to get to the witness box. “He's a wonderful son, kind, loving. I'm happy when I talk to him, when I visit him. That's the only time I feel happy.”

Rodriguez—known as “Tito” to family members—was repeatedly exposed to dangerous pesticides while growing up with his migrant farm family in Minnesota, his mother told court. The family would come up from Mexico every spring to work with sugar beets and lived in a small home with no electricity or running water. Rodriguez was a very sick, undersized child who also faced ugly racial taunts while attending school with several siblings, she said. “The other children used to call them dirty Mexicans and other names. They weren't happy and used to cry when they had to go to school,” said Dolores. Her son first got in trouble with the law in his early teens when he began making obscene phone calls to women living in the Crookston area, said Dolores. She spoke to police and detailed her son's troubles, which included severe headaches, a swollen head and tremors.

Dr. Karen Froeming, a clinical neuropsychologist from California who had met with Rodriguez three times in the past year, testified she believed he suffered brain damage as a result of “significant” exposure to farm chemicals as a child. She put Rodriguez through a series of clinical tests and found he suffered from a very low IQ and that his reading, writing and math skills were at an elementary school level. “These impairments have a lot to do with impulse control,” said Froeming, who was retained by defence lawyers as an expert. Froeming told jurors she believed Rodriguez was being truthful. But she admitted being in the dark about additional background information, including how he'd lied to police about being involved in Sjodin's death while a desperate search for her body was underway. “That would certainly have raised my index of suspicion,” she said in cross- examination.