its perils and uncertainties, Melvin Hett was a staunch believer in hair analysis. He and Peterson became friendly, and before the Fritz trial Hett passed along scientific articles touting the reliability of evidence that was famously unreliable. He did not, however, provide the prosecutor with any of the numerous articles condemning hair analysis and testimony.
Two months before the Fritz trial, Hett drove to Chicago and delivered his findings to a private lab called McCrone. There, one Richard Bisbing, an acquaintance of Hett's, reviewed his work. Bisbing had been hired by Wanda Fritz to review the hair evidence and testify at trial. To pay him, Wanda was forced to sell Dennis's car. Bisbing proved to be far more efficient with his time, but the results were just as conflicting.
In less than six hours, Bisbing refuted almost all of Hett's findings. Looking at only the eleven pubic hairs that Hett was certain were microscopically consistent with Fritz, Bisbing found that only three were accurate. Only three 'could' have come from Dennis Fritz. Hett was wrong about the other eight. Undaunted by such a low estimation of his work by another expert, Hett drove back to Oklahoma, ready to testify without changing his opinion.
He took the stand on Friday afternoon, April 8, and immediately launched into a windy lecture loaded with scientific terms and words, designed more to impress the jurors than to inform them. Dennis, with a college degree and experience teaching science, could not follow Hett, and he was certain the jurors couldn't, either. He glanced at them several times. They were hopelessly lost, but they were obviously impressed with this expert. He knew so much!
Hett tossed out words like 'morphology,' 'cortex,' 'scale protrusion,' 'shallow gapping,' 'cortical fusi,' and 'ovoid bodies' as if everyone in the courtroom knew exactly what he meant. He seldom slowed long enough to explain himself. Hett was the star expert, with an aura of reliability that was bolstered by his experience, vocabulary, confidence, and strong conclusions that some of the known hairs of Dennis Fritz were consistent with some of those found at the crime scene. Six times during his direct testimony he said that Dennis's hair and the suspicious hairs were microscopically consistent and could have come from the same source. Not once did he share with the jury the truth that the hairs could have just as easily not come from the same source. Throughout his testimony, Bill Peterson continually referred to 'the Defendant Ron Williamson and the Defendant Dennis Fritz.' At the time, Ron was locked away in solitary confinement, strumming his guitar, completely unaware that he was being tried in absentia and that things were not going too well.
Hett wrapped up his testimony by summarizing for the jury his findings. Eleven pubic hairs and two scalp hairs could have come from Dennis. It was the same eleven pubic hairs he'd driven to the McCrone laboratories in Chicago and shown to Richard Bisbing for a second opinion.
The cross-examination by Greg Saunders yielded little. Hett was forced to admit that hair analysis is too speculative to be used for positive identifications. Like most experts, he was able to talk his way out of tough questions by using his endless supply of vague scientific terms.
When he was excused, the state rested.
The first witness called by the defense was Dennis Fritz. He testified about his past, his friendship with Ron, and so on. He admitted that he had been convicted of cultivating marijuana in 1973 and had lied about this on his application to teach school at Noble seven years later. His reason for doing so was simple; he needed a job. He denied repeatedly that he had ever met Debbie Carter and certainly knew nothing about her murder.
He was then handed over to Bill Peterson for cross-examination.
There's an old adage in bad trial lawyering that when you don't have the facts, do a lot of yelling. Peterson stomped to the podium, glared at the murderer with the suspicious hair, and began yelling.
Within seconds, Judge Jones called him to the bench for a little chastising. 'You may not like this defendant,' the judge whispered sternly, 'but you're not to be angry in this courtroom.'
'I'm not angry,' Peterson angrily shot back.
'Yes you are. This is the first time you've raised your voice to this bench.' 'All right.'
Peterson was incensed that Fritz had lied on a job application. Thus, Dennis simply could not be believed. And Peterson dramatically produced another lie, a form Dennis had filled out when he hocked a pistol at a pawnshop in Durant, Oklahoma. Again, Dennis had tried to hide his felony for cultivating pot.
Two clear incidences of outright deception; neither, of course, had anything to do with the Carter murder. Peterson harangued him for as much mileage as he could possibly beat out of his self-confessed lying.
It was ironic, and would have been comical had things not been so tense, that Peterson worked himself into such an indignant lather over a witness who couldn't tell the truth. This, from a prosecutor whose case was built on the testimony of convicts and snitches.
When Peterson finally decided to move on, he had no place to go. He hopscotched from the allegations of one prosecution witness to another, but Dennis did a credible job of holding his ground. After a contentious one-hour cross, Peterson sat down.
The only other witness called by Greg Saunders was Richard Bis-bing, who explained to the jury that he disagreed with most of the conclusions reached by Melvin Hett. It was late on Friday afternoon, and Judge Jones adjourned court for the weekend. Dennis made the short walk back to the jail, changed clothes, and tried to relax in his stuffy rat hole of a cell. He was convinced the state had failed to prove him guilty, but he was far from confident. He had seen the nasty looks from the jurors when they were shown the gruesome crime scene photos. He had watched them as they listened to Melvin Hett and believed his conclusions.
For Dennis, it was a very long weekend.
Closing arguments began Monday morning. Nancy Shew went first for the state and plodded through a recitation of each of the prosecution's witnesses and what had been said.
Greg Saunders countered with an argument that not much at all had been proven by the state; that its burden of proving Dennis guilty beyond a reasonable doubt had clearly not been met; that this was nothing.
Ronnie as a Police Eagle, age ten.
The Williamson family around 1970: Annette, Ron, and Renee, with their parents, Juanita and Roy.
High school portrait, age eighteen.
Debbie Carter, two days before she was murdered.
The crime scene- Debbie had the upstairs apartment. Denice Haraway, abducted April
28, 1984.
Tommy Ward and Karl Fontenot being escorted to trial.
Ron Williamson's mug shot. Dennis Fritz's mug shot.
Ron being led away from the Pontotoc County Courthouse after he was found guilty of murder and received the death penalty.
District Attorney Bill Peterson.
Greg Wilhoit spent four years at F Cellhouse for a murder he did not commit. He and Ron Williamson became close friends on death row.
U.S. District Court Judge Frank H. Seay. As an epilogue to his decision granting a new trial he said, 'God help us, if ever in this great country we turn our heads while those who have not had fair trials are executed. That almost happened in this case.'
After eleven years in prison, Ron returns to Ada.
The client with his legal team. Front row: Kim Marks and Penny Stewart; second row: Bill Luker, Janet Chesley, Ron, Jenny Landrith, Mark Barrett, and Sara Bonnell. (April 15, 1999.) Dennis Fritz and Ron Williamson in court as they hear Judge Tom Landrith dismiss the charges. (April 15, 1999.) Barry Scheck and Mark Barrett celebrate at a press conference after the release of Ron and Dennis. (April 15, 1999.) Ron at Yankee Stadium two weeks after his release.
Annette and Renee with their brother shortly before his death. ing more than a case of guilt by association; and that the jury should find his client not guilty.
Bill Peterson had the last shot. For almost an hour, he rambled on and on, regurgitating the high points from each of his witnesses, trying desperately to convince the jurors that his crooks and snitches were worth believing.
The jury retired to deliberate at noon, and six hours later came back to announce it was split eleven to one. Judge Jones sent them back with the promise of dinner. Around 8:00 p.m., they returned with a verdict of guilty.
Dennis listened to the verdict in a frozen silence, stunned because he was innocent, shocked because he'd been convicted with such paltry proof. He wanted to lash out at the jurors, the judge, the cops, the system, but the
