March 29
TEXAS:
Legal fees for Cobb, David exceed $34,000
To date, the cost to Lamar County for the legal defense of capital murder
defendants Christopher Cobb and Michael Dewayne Davis is more than
$34,000, according to records at the district clerks office.
Attorney Steven Miears of Sherman was appointed to represent both men, who
declared they are indigent and cannot afford lawyers.
Cobb, 22, is accused in the Aug. 29, 2004, deaths of his
great-grandparents, Charley Smith, 89, and Ruth Smith, 88, whose bodies
were found in their residence north of Elk Hollow Golf Club the next
morning. Hes accused of killing them for money to buy drugs.
Davis, 38, is accused in the slaying of Marvin Davis, 79, no relation,
whose body was found Jan. 8, 2004, in his trailer at Genes Flea Market on
the Northeast Loop. Hes accused of strangling or fatally beating him
during a burglary or robbery.
Miears is the lead attorney in both cases. Because the death penalty may
be sought, Miears was allowed to add another attorney, Jack Herrington of
Paris.
State District Judge Jim Lovett, in whose court both murder cases reside,
has approved:
In the case of Christopher Cobb: 14 hours for Miears at $125 an hour, or
$1,750; 17.5 hours for Herrington at $100 an hour, or $1,750; 38.5 hours
for Herringtons staff at $35 an hour, or $1,347.50; Herringtons office
expenses of $989.97; 20.75 hours for an investigator, William "Bill" Brown
of Nortex Investigative Services of Paris, at $50 an hour, or $1,037.50;
3.5 hours for investigator James L. "Jim" Chadwick of Paris, at $35 an
hour, or $122.50; and $64.14, $204.49 and $492.20 for medical records.
Thats $5,837.47 for attorneys, $1,160 for investigators, and $760.83 for
medical records, for a total of $7,758.30.
In the case of Michael Dewayne Davis: $3,213.19 and $5,593.75 for Miears;
$7,343.75 for another attorney, "Richardson"; $77.22 for Richardsons
expenses; $3,777.94 and $1,305.50 for Herrington; $1,003.94, $1,162.50,
$900.49 and $1,000 for investigators; and $898.27 for an "expert." Thats
$21,311.35 for attorneys, $4,066.93 for investigators, and $898.27 for an
expert, for a total of $26,276.55.
So far, the total for the legal defense of Cobb and Davis is $34,034.85.
(source: Paris News)
*******************
Murder trial returns to court after 2 years
A capital murder trial resumed Monday after a delay of 2 years, with the
same jury seated in the box, waiting for testimony.
The trial had been on hold while the courts were debating the question of
the admissibility of DNA evidence. In November, the Texas Court of
Criminal Appeals upheld a decision to allow DNA evidence in the murder
trial of Joe Edward LaRue, 41, accused of capital murder in the slaying of
Donna Pentecost.
Pentecost was a 33-year-old Port Neches woman found bludgeoned to death in
her yard Oct. 15, 1989. According to investigators, she also had been
sexually assaulted.
On Monday, the state, which is seeking the death penalty in the case,
offered LaRue a 50-year sentence in exchange for a guilty plea, but he
refused it.
The case slowly has been wending its way to trial in the 15 1/2 years
since her death.
LaRue was indicted in this case in 1991, but charges were dropped in 1994
for lack of evidence. The case was refiled in 2001 after DNA testing
technology had improved.
LaRue has been in custody in Jefferson County since his second capital
murder indictment in November 2001. He was arrested in New Mexico in 1999
on assault charges.
In testimony Monday, prosecution witness Gary Byrd described how he and
LaRue, Pentecost's coworkers at Jordan Industries at the time, came to
discover her nude body outside her house, her head covered by a rag.
Police investigators believe a 40-pound concrete block found nearby was
used to crush her skull.
Byrd said Jordan Industries provided staff to refineries on a contractual
basis. The weekend Pentecost was killed, a job she wanted to work became
available in Sulphur, La.
When she didn't show up, LaRue suggested he, Byrd and another worker go
pick her up at her house. They knocked at her door, but she didn't answer,
Byrd said.
Byrd walked to the corner of the house where he saw what looked like a
mannequin, he said. Then he walked closer and realized it was a body.
"I let out, 'Oh, my God,' and I just kind of stood there," he said, adding
that LaRue had a similar response. They didn't go in the house, but
returned to Jordan Industries and called the police from there.
On her last day of life, Pentecost, who had two sons, and a friend, Ianita
Phelps, had taken their children to the South Texas State Fair at the old
fairgrounds in Beaumont and then to Kmart to shop for Halloween costumes.
Then her friend dropped her off at home, taking Pentecost's kids back to
spend the night at her house.
Phelps saw Pentecost as a caring mother and a "good person."
But according to other witnesses, Pentecost had another side she concealed
from Phelps and others.
Defense attorney Doug Barlow questioned witnesses about stories
circulating around Jordan Industries that Pentecost was involved with
illegal drugs.
Dorthea Moreman, a hairdresser who was Pentecost's roommate for several
weeks before her death, said "she knew Donna was doing some things she
shouldn't ought to be doing" and it worried her.
When pressed by Barlow, Moreman admitted that the "things" were drugs. In
police affidavits dating shortly after Pentecost's slaying, Moreman had
said she went with Pentecost somewhere in Port Arthur while Pentecost
scored heroin.
After her death, rumors flew "thick and fast" around Jordan Industries,
Byrd said during cross-examination by Barlow.
One such story involved Pentecost's death at the hands of a heroin dealer
to whom she owed $1,000.
(source: The Beaumont Enterprise)
*************************
Inmate tastes legal victory but faces more hurdles
Death row inmate Kenneth Vodochodsky admits he ran over a San Antonio
teenager late one night while cruising on the city's popular Southwest
Military Drive.
"I remember it like it was yesterday," he said last week in his 1st death
row interview with a reporter.
He recalls 2 groups of people arguing and then pointing his 1993 Chrysler
LeBaron toward the road and hitting the gas. The car slammed into
17-year-old Alexander Zulaica, who died 13 hours later.
But that's not why Vodochodsky is on death row.
Vodochodsky was convicted on a capital murder charge in connection with
one of South Texas' deadliest police ambushes, which occurred 6 months
after his crash on Southwest Military Drive.
Everyone agrees Vodochodsky wasn't the triggerman who killed the 3 peace
officers who died Oct. 12, 1999, outside his mobile home near Pleasanton.
Vodochodsky, then 19, was found guilty of capital murder for the death of
one of the officers, Atascosa Sheriff's Deputy Thomas Monse Jr. under a
Texas law that states anyone who encourages, assists or even tries to help
commit murder is equally culpable of the crime.
Prosecutors claim that's what Vodochodsky did.
Vodochodsky continued to maintain his innocence last week, saying he had
no part in his friend's murderous rampage that led to the deaths of Monse,
Deputy Mark Stephenson and State Trooper Terry Miller.
His friend and roommate, Jeremiah Engleton, committed suicide after a long
standoff with authorities, leaving few answers about Vodochodsky's
involvement behind.
The way Vodochodsky sees it, he's been on death row for more than 3 years
for no reason.
And the state's highest criminal appeals court says he's right.
The Texas Courts of Criminal Appeals reasserted this month there wasn't
enough evidence to keep Vodochodsky behind bars, much less waiting to die
by injection.
The court denied Atascosa County's request to reconsider the ruling issued
last April, throwing out Vodochodsky's death sentence and sending his case
back to trial court.
Attorney Alan Futrell believes his client has been spared lethal
injection. He said it will be difficult for prosecutors to gain another
conviction without new evidence.
"I don't see how they could do a better job in trying to convict
Vodochodsky than they did the 1st time," Futrell said. "Boy, retrying this
case would be a mess."
Vodochodsky's parents declined to be interviewed.
Although no decisions have been made on how to proceed with Vodochodsky's
case, the district attorney for the 81st Judicial District, Ren Pea, said
Vodochodsky should prepare to return to South Texas to face a new trial.
Pea said he hasn't decided if he'll retry the case or take Vodochodsky to
court on several other indictments related to the deadly 1999 ambush. He
has until Wednesday to decide if he will appeal the latest court ruling.
The pending indictments include capital murder charges for the 2 other
dead officers, as well as lesser offenses such as attempted murder and
conspiracy to commit murder.
"We're not going to say it's done, by any means, we're not going to do
that," Pea said.
If the district attorney appeals the latest court ruling on different
grounds, Vodochodsky will have to remain on death row until a new ruling
is rendered, which could take months.
If the district attorney declines to appeal and also decides against
pursuing the other indictments, then Vodochodsky would be freed from death
row as soon as the appeals court issues a mandate releasing him, Futrell
said.
He said there is no deadline for the court to issue such a mandate.
"You like to think it will be soon, but I started thinking that last
April," Futrell said.
Futrell acknowledged the remaining indictments could entangle Vodochodsky
in years of legal battles, but said, ultimately, the evidence prosecutors
have is the same as that presented in the first capital murder trial.
Vodochodsky's conviction centered on statements he allegedly made to his
neighbor, Edward Essary, two days after the October 1999 shooting.
"Jeremiah was going to kill himself and take some 'pigs' with him," Essary
testified during the trial.
Essary said Vodochodsky told him, "I bailed him out to do just this."
But the Texas Courts of Criminal Appeals said prosecutors failed to
provide any evidence that Vodochodsky was part of a murderous plot, noting
Vodochodsky didn't participate in buying the ammunition or specifically
mention killing a peace officer when speaking to Essary.
Judge Mike Keasler, who seldom sides with defendants, wrote for the
majority: "There is no evidence that Vodochodsky actually did any
affirmative act to assist Engleton with the plan."
Vodochodsky maintained he didn't know Engleton was going to commit mass
murder that night and believed the bullets were for shooting practice,
something they often did.
"I'm not a mind reader," he said in the interview. "I couldn't predict
what was going to happen."
But he said even if he did, mere knowledge of crime is not enough to
convict someone of capital murder.
"I don't know what the big discussion is about, since in my situation,
even if I had known something, it was not against the law," he said.
Critics of Texas' "law of parties" use Vodochodsky's case as an example of
the statute being abused as punitive justice.
Cynthia Orr, board member of the National Association of Criminal Defense
Lawyers, said people can't go to jail for simply knowing someone who
smokes marijuana.
"There's just no legal hook to assess responsibility for Mr. Vodochodsky,"
Orr said.
Vodochodsky said he's a scapegoat and is being made to suffer for his
friend's actions.
"Somebody's got to pay for it, you know," he said.
Vodochodsky said he's hopeful he'll leave death row before the end of the
year. But, for now, he said he's just biding time.
"I pace myself," he said. "I've put it in my mind to be cool, to chill out
and just wait. I have no choice. There's no sense in driving myself
crazy."
And, although he continued to maintain his innocence, Vodochodsky, for the
1st time, publicly expressed remorse for the officers' deaths.
"I feel bad for the lives that were lost," he said.
As far as the accident that killed Zuliaca, Vodochodsky said he didn't
intend to run over him.
"I didn't realize it until after it happened," Vodochodsky said. "I went
around the building and I saw some other guy helping him get up so I
figured he was OK. So, I left and went back home."
(source: San Antonio Express-News)
***********************
'Texas justice'? It's a punchline
I'm worried about Texas. As someone who spent almost 5 years there, it
concerns me that -- in matters of criminal justice -- the Lone Star State
has gotten a reputation as the nation's problem child.
Thanks to a flexible standard of crime and punishment, you don't
necessarily have to commit the crime to get the punishment.
Such was the theme of a recent episode of the David E. Kelley TV drama
Boston Legal in which a Yankee lawyer flies to Texas to handle the appeal
of a mentally impaired black man.
The accused is on Death Row despite the fact that the state had no solid
evidence against him. Yet the judges hearing the appeal don't seem to care
that an innocent man could be headed for a lethal injection. (The theme
comes across as believable given that Texas has such a deplorable record
in administering the death penalty. Of all the executions carried out in
the United States in recent years, about 1/2 took place in Texas.)
But what's really jarring is what occurs in real life. For starters, law
enforcement officials in Texas have an atrocious record when it comes to
informing incarcerated Mexican nationals of their right -- under the 1963
Vienna Convention on Consular Relations -- to speak with a representative
of the Mexican consulate. It's not like the authorities in Texas haven't
had plenty of opportunities. Of the more than 50 Mexicans currently on
Death Row in the United States, 16 are in Texas.
That negligence helped spark an international incident in the case of Jose
Ernesto Medellin, a Texas Death Row inmate who was never told by
authorities that he had the right to speak with the Mexican consulate.
Medellin is now petitioning the Supreme Court. His case has already been
heard by the International Court of Justice, the chief legal arm of the
United Nations. The ICJ said that, under an optional protocol on consular
relations, Medellin and the other Mexicans on death row in the United
States were entitled to new hearings.
The Bush administration said it would instruct state attorneys general to
comply with the ruling, then did an about face and withdrew from the
protocol.
It's a good thing that the state can't seek the death penalty for alleged
drug dealing.
Consider the 2001 Dallas fake drug scandal. That fiasco has been back in
the headlines recently now that the Dallas County district attorney's
office -- which 4 years ago prosecuted and jailed at least 2 dozen
innocent Mexican immigrants on bogus drug charges -- has begun its
prosecution of Mark Delapaz, a former narcotics officer who, according to
prosecutors, deserves most of the blame.
But from having commented on the story since it broke, I know it's far
more complicated. At least 50 % of the scandal belongs to prosecutors and
to their higher-ups in the office, who were informed by both police and
officials at the county drug lab that fake drugs were making their way
through the system. And yet the office sat on this information -- while
innocent people sat in jail -- before dismissing the bulk of these cases
in January 2002.
At the time, Dallas County prosecutors had a dumb policy of not testing
drug evidence unless the case went to trial. Many of the cases were
plea-bargained, and so they never went to trial. But they still should
have caught the red flags. We're talking about defendants being arrested
with what was supposedly as much as 30 pounds of cocaine, and the accused
were poor laborers with no criminal records.
What's more, before I left Texas in January, I turned up documents that
suggested that a handful of prosecutors may have taken a more active role
in the scandal by trying to induce guilty pleas from defendants in fake
drug cases, perhaps in the hopes of deporting those who were here
illegally and discrediting the rest.
I'd be happy if any of this came out in the Delapaz trial. But since it is
the district attorney's office that is trying the case, I won't hold my
breath.
All in all, it's just another day in the Texas criminal justice system --
a system designed to give people whatever they'll put up with. And so
things will be this way until Texans decide that they're tired of being
the national punch line and start demanding that those who represent them
be more evenhanded and stop making a mess of Texas.
(source: San Diego Union-Tribune - Ruben Navarrette is a columnist for the
San Diego Union-Tribune)
