Trial and Tribulation Jay Bryant
March 30, 2004
Today's Richard Clarke Award for Stepping in your Chamberpot goes to Richard Ernest, a ballistics expert who testified in the trial of Jason Williams, one of the several NBA players in trouble with the law. Williams faces 55 years in prison if convicted of aggravated manslaughter in the death of his chauffeur, but claims he didn't pull the trigger � that the gun went off by accident.
Williams' lawyers put Ernest on the stand to give expert testimony that it was possible for the gun to go off spontaneously if a tiny wood chip has somehow clogged in the trigger mechanism. And so he did, saying it could have happened just like that. When the prosecution got its chance at cross-examination, Ernest was asked if he had performed any experiments to test his theory. Uh-oh. Seems he had indeed, taking a similar gun to a firing range and painstakingly, using "a stereo microscope and fine tweezers" inserted a chip into the inner workings. But try as he might, he was never able to get to the gun to go off spontaneously, without pressing the trigger. Williams story is that his hand wasn't on the trigger, though eyewitnesses say otherwise.
You've got to give the defense kudos for chutzpah, though. In order to show the jury just how their theory worked, they prepared a little animated film, in which the animated gun actually does go off by itself. Where the heck do they think this trial is being held, Toontown? Anyway, the judge told them they couldn't show jurors the Roger Rabbit version of the gun going off, on account of because Williams' twelve peers might actually think that when they saw the gun go off on its own in the film, it meant the gun could actually go off like that. The judge did let them use the animation sequence without the explosion, though, so the jurors would have some idea what they were talking about.
So here's the upshot, so to speak. When the supposedly edited animation is shown to the court, BLAM, off goes the animated gun. The prosecutor leaps up like HE'S been shot, and starts yelling objections at the top of his voice. The judge pounds his gavel like he's spotted a poisonous scorpion on the podium and the bailiffs whisk the jurors out of the room for their own protection, although whether from the animated gunshots, screaming prosecutor or hammer-whacking judge is not certain.
When the confusion dies down, at least a little, the defense counsel claims it was all an accident, that they were sure the banned sequence had been edited out, and can't imagine how it got back in.
See the neat little parallel here? The animated gun went off by accident, just like the real one did. Cute, eh?
Eventually, the jury came back into the room and the judge instructed them to disregard what they had seen. You hear TV judges say that sort of thing all the time, but I've never figured out how it can work. It's sort of like being ordered to enjoy yourself, isn't it? Here a gunshot has gone off, all hell has broken loose in the courtroom, you have been shoveled into the jury room by a bunch of gun-toting bailiffs, and when it's all over, the judge does his Tony Soprano imitation and says, "this never happened, got it?"
I'm not saying Williams is now certain to be convicted. New Jersey juries are highly unpredictable. But the thing the defense tried today didn't work.
Now, I know what you're thinking. How is it that the award mentioned in the lead paragraph of this article got to be named after Richard Clarke?
Well, I'll tell you. It's because his whole gambit, like the Williams defense, is a fictional, unsupported proposition so improbable that its likelihood rests way out on the end of the continuum between reasonable doubt and utterly impossible.
Like sad sack ballistics expert Ernest, Clarke made up a story, only to have it turn out his own paper trail contradicted his claims. In Clarke's case, release of the news interview he did in 2002, when he sang the praises of the Bush administration's anti- terrorism policy to the hilt, put the lie to his book-Sixty Minutes-9/11 panel statements that they were all asleep at the switch. Clarke may have thought he had a smoking gun, but just like the one in Ernest's tests, it wouldn't fire. It turns out not to have been real, just an animation.
Ernest will collect his expert testimony fee, and Clarke will collect his book royalties, but their credibility is, if you'll pardon the expression, shot. A new poll shows only about 25% of Americans believe Clarke is a sincere fellow, while twice that number think he's motivated by politics, greed, narcissism or some combination thereof.
Outside the Somerville courtroom, a posse of placard-carrying Williams supporters marched in support of their man. They probably believed every word the ballistics guru said, and didn't think there was anything wrong with the jury seeing the ersatz explosion. Whatever Williams' clever lawyers peddle, they buy
Outside the Beltway, lots of fervent Democrats will march to the beat of Clarke or any other anti-Bush drummer, explaining away inconsistencies, demanding that Condoleezza Rice be stretched on the rack until she confesses. Whatever John Kerry's clever spin-doctors peddle, they buy.
And, of course, there's lots more testimony to be heard. Maybe the jury will let Williams off. Maybe the voters will go with Kerry. But their causes haven't been helped lately, that's for darned sure.
Veteran GOP media consultant Jay Bryant's regular columns are available at www.theoptimate.com, and his commentaries may be heard on NPR's 'All Things Considered.'
�2004 Jay Bryant
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