The four hairs could just as easily not have come from Ron, but Hett didn't mention this. With a slip of the tongue, Hett stepped out of bounds. As he was testifying about the two scalp hairs, he said, 'These were the only scalp hairs that matched or were consistent with Ron Williamson.'
The word 'match' is off-limits in hair analysis because it is extremely misleading.
Laypeople on the jury may struggle with the concept of hairs being microscopically consistent, but they have no trouble understanding a match. It's quicker, cleaner, easier to grasp. Like a fingerprint, a match eliminates all doubt.
After Hett used the word 'match' for the second time, Barney objected. Judge Jones overruled him, saying he could deal with it on cross-examination.
Hett's most egregious act, though, was the manner in which he testified. Instead of educating the jurors, Hett chose instead to simply bless them with his opinions. To help the jury evaluate the evidence, most hair analysts bring into court enlarged photos of the hair in dispute. A photo of a known hair is mounted next to a questioned hair, and the expert goes into great detail explaining similarities and dissimilarities. As Hett said, there are about twenty-five different characteristics in hair, and a good examiner will show the jury exactly what he or she is talking about.
Hett did nothing of the sort. After working on the Carter murder for nearly five years, hundreds of hours, three different reports, he did not show the jury one single enlarged photo of his work. Not a single hair taken from Ron Williamson was compared with a single hair taken from Debbie's apartment.
Hett was, in effect, telling the jury to simply trust him. Don't ask for proof, just believe his opinions.
The clear implication of Hett's testimony was that four of the hairs found in the Carter apartment came from Ron Williamson. Indeed, this was the sole purpose of putting Hett on the witness stand.
His presence and testimony highlighted the unfairness of expecting an indigent defendant to get a fair trial without giving him access to forensic experts. Barney had requested such assistance months earlier, and Judge Jones had declined.
Judge Jones should have known better. Three years earlier, a major case from Oklahoma landed at the U.S. Supreme Court, and its outcome rattled the criminal courts of the country. In Ake v. Oklahoma, the Court said: 'When a State brings its judicial power to bear on an indigent defendant in a criminal proceeding, it must take steps to assure that the defendant has a fair opportunity to present his defense… Justice cannot be equal where, simply as a result of his poverty, a defendant is denied the opportunity to participate meaningfully in a judicial proceeding in which his liberty is at stake.'
The Ake decision required that the basic tools of an adequate defense be provided by the state to an indigent defendant. It was ignored by Judge Jones in both the Fritz and the Williamson trials.
Forensic evidence was a crucial part of the prosecution. Jerry Peters, Larry Mullins, Mary Long, Susan Land, and Melvin Hett were all experts. Ron was left with only Barney, a competent courtroom advocate, but, sadly, one unable to see the evidence.
The state rested after Melvin Hett. At the beginning of the trial, Barney waived his opening statement, reserving it for the start of his defense. It was a risky maneuver. Most defense lawyers can't wait to address the jurors early on to begin sowing doubt about the state's evidence. The opening statement and the closing argument are the only stages in a trial when a lawyer can directly address the jury, and they are opportunities too ripe to pass up.
Barney, after the state rested, surprised everyone by again waiving his right to an opening statement. No reason was given, none was required, but it was a very unusual tactic. Barney called to the stand seven straight jailers. All denied they had ever heard Ron Williamson in any way implicate himself in the Carter murder.
Wayne Joplin was the Pontotoc County court clerk. Barney called him as a witness to review the records of Terri Holland. She had been arrested in New Mexico in October 1984 and hauled back to Ada and placed in jail, where she promptly helped solve two sensational murder cases, though she waited two years to inform the police about Ron's dramatic confession to her. She pleaded guilty to the bad-check charges, received a fiveyear sentence with three suspended, and was ordered to pay court costs of $70, restitution of $527.09, $225 for attorneys' fees at the rate of $50 per month, $10 a month to the Department of Corrections, and $50 a month to the Crime Victims Compensation Fund. She made one payment of $50 in May 1986, then all was apparently forgiven.
Barney was down to his last witness, the defendant himself. Allowing Ron to testify was risky. He was volatile-earlier in the day he had lashed out at Terri Holland-and the jury was already afraid of him. He had a criminal record, which Peterson would hammer him with, attacking his credibility. No one was certain how much, if any, of his meds he was receiving. He was angry and unpredictable, and, worst of all, he had not been prepped by his lawyer.
Barney asked for a conference at the bench and said to Judge Jones: 'Now then, the fun starts. I'd like to have a recess to do whatever I can as far as having any kind of calming influence on him. He seems-well, he hasn't been jumping up and down. I'm ready to have a recess anyway.'
'You're down to one possible witness?' Judge Jones asked.
'I'm down to one, yeah, and I think you're using the right term too, Judge.'
When they adjourned for the noon recess, Ron was led downstairs on his way to the jail. He saw the victim's father and yelled, 'Charlie Carter, I did not kill your daughter!' The deputies hustled him away even faster.
At 1:00 p.m., he was sworn in. After a few preliminary questions, he denied having any conversation with Terri Holland and denied ever meeting Debbie Carter.
When did he first learn of Carter's death? Barney asked. 'On December the 8th, my sister, Annette Hudson, called over to the house, and mother answered the telephone. And I heard mother say, 'Well, I know Ronnie didn't do it because he was at home.' And I asked mother what that was about. She said that Annette had called and said that there had been a girl killed in our neighborhood.'
The lack of preparation became more apparent a few minutes later when Barney asked the witness about first meeting Gary Rogers.
Ron said, 'And it was just shortly after that that I went down to the station and gave a lie detector test.' Barney almost choked: 'Ronnie, don't-you're not supposed to talk about that.'
Any mention of a polygraph in front of the jury was prohibited. Had the state done so, a mistrial would have been in order. No one had bothered to inform Ron. Seconds later he stepped out of bounds again when he described an incident with Dennis Fritz. 'I was with Dennis Fritz and we were going down the road and I told him that Dennis Smith had called me back and told me the results of the polygraph test had been inconclusive.' Barney plowed ahead and changed the subject. They talked briefly about Ron's conviction on the forged instrument. Then a few questions about where he was on the night of the murder. Barney finished with a feeble 'Did you kill Debbie Carter?'
'No sir. I did not.' 'I believe that's all.'
In his haste to get his client on and off the stand with as little damage as possible, Barney neglected to rebut most of the allegations from the state's witnesses. Ron could have explained his 'dream confession' to Rogers and Featherstone the night after his arrest. He could have explained his jailhouse conversations with John Christian and Mike Ten-ney. He could have diagrammed the jail and explained to the jury that it was impossible for Terri Holland to hear what she heard without others doing so. He could have flatly denied the statements of Glen Gore, Gary Allen, Tony Vick, Donna Walker, and Letha Caldwell. Like all prosecutors, Peterson was itching for a shot at the defendant on crossexamination. What he didn't expect was for the defendant to be thoroughly unintimidated. He began by making much of Ron's friendship with Dennis Fritz, now a convicted murderer.
'Isn't it a fact, Mr. Williamson, that you and Dennis Fritz are about the only friends each of you got; isn't that right?'
'Well, let's put it like this,' Ron answered coolly. 'You framed him, and now you're trying to frame me.' The words echoed around the courtroom as Peterson caught his breath.
Changing the subject, he asked if Ron remembered meeting Debbie Carter, something he continually denied. The question was asked again, and Ron blurted, 'Peterson, I'm going to make this clear to you one more time.'
Judge Jones intervened and instructed the witness to answer the question. Again, Ron denied ever meeting Debbie Carter.
Peterson stomped and strutted around, throwing a few jabs and hitting air. He got into trouble again when he returned to his fiction. 'Do you know where you were after ten o'clock on December the 7th?'
