Ron: 'At home.' Peterson: 'Doing what?'
Ron: 'After ten o'clock five years ago, I could have been watching television or asleep.'
Peterson: 'Isn't it a fact you went out that door, went down that alley-'
Ron: 'Huh-uh, bud. No way.' Peterson: '… went down that alley.' Ron: 'No way man.'
Peterson: 'You and Dennis Fritz.'
Ron: 'You're-no way. No way.' Peterson: 'Walked up to that apartment.' Ron: 'No way.'
Peterson: 'Do you know where Dennis Fritz was that night?'
Ron: 'I know he wasn't at Debbie Carter's. That's the way I'll put it.' Peterson: 'How do you know he wasn't at Debbie Carter's?'
Ron: 'Because you framed him.'
Peterson: 'How do you know he wasn't at Debbie Carter's?' Ron: 'I'd bet my life on it. Let's put it like that.'
Peterson: 'Tell us how you know.'
Ron: 'I just don't-don't ask me any more questions. I'll get down and you can put it to the jury, but I'm telling you you framed him and now you're trying to frame me.'
Barney: 'Ronnie.'
Ron: 'My mother knew I was at home. You come harassing me for five years. Now, you can do whatever you want to do to me. I don't care.'
Peterson tendered the witness and sat down.
During his closing argument, Barney did much to malign the police and their work-the prolonged investigation, the loss of Gore's hair samples, their seeming blindness to Gore as a suspect, Dennis Smith's slipshod fingerprinting at the crime scene, the numerous requests for samples from Ron, the questionable tactics used in taking his dream confession, the failure to provide the defense with Ron's earlier statement, the evershifting opinions from the OSBI gang. The list of errors was long and rich, and Barney referred to the police more than once as the Keystone Kops.
As all good lawyers do, he argued that there was plenty of reasonable doubt and appealed to the jurors to use their common sense.
Peterson argued that there was no doubt whatsoever. The cops, all fine professionals of course, did an exemplary job with their investigation, and Peterson and his team had provided the jury with clear proof of guilt.
Picking up on something he'd heard from Melvin Hett, he played things a bit loose with his terminology. Talking about the hair analysis, he said, 'So, over a long period of time Mr. Hett is examining hairs and eliminating, examining and eliminating, along with his other cases. Then in 1985, there's a match.'
But Barney was ready. He immediately objected, saying, 'If the court please, there hasn't been a match since statehood. We object to him using that term.'
The objection was sustained.
Peterson plodded on, summarizing what each of his witnesses said. When he brought up Terri Holland, Ron became tense.
Peterson: 'Terri Holland is telling you what she recalls after two years, and her testimony was that she heard this Defendant tell his mother that if she didn't bring him something-'
Ron jumped to his feet and said, 'Hold it!'
Peterson: '… he ought to kill her just like he killed Debbie Carter.' Ron: 'Shut your mouth man, I never said that!'
Barney: 'Sit down. Be still now.' The Court: 'Mr. Williamson.'
Ron: 'I did not say that to my mother.' Barney: 'Ronnie.'
The Court: 'Listen to your attorney.'
Ron sat down and seethed. Peterson labored on, spinning the testimony of the state's witnesses in a light so favorable Barney was forced to object repeatedly and ask Judge Jones to remind the prosecutor to stay within the facts.
The jury retired at 10:15 a.m. on Wednesday. Annette and Renee remained in the courtroom for a while, then left for lunch. It was difficult to eat. After hearing every word of testimony, they were even further convinced their brother was innocent, but it was Peterson's courtroom. Most of the rulings had gone his way. He'd patched together the same witnesses with just as little evidence and got a guilty verdict against Fritz. They despised the man. He was loud and arrogant and ran over people. They detested him for what he was doing to their brother.
The hours passed. At 4:30 word arrived that the jury had a verdict, and the courtroom filled up quickly. Judge Jones took his place and lectured the spectators against outbursts.
Annette and Renee held hands and prayed.
Across the aisle the Carter family held hands, too, and prayed. Their ordeal was almost over.
At 4:40, the jury foreman handed a verdict to the clerk, who glanced at it and passed it on to Judge Jones. He announced the verdict-guilty on all counts. The Carters silently pumped their hands in the air in a show of victory. Annette and Renee wept quietly, as did Peggy Stillwell.
Ron hung his head, shaken but not altogether surprised. After eleven months in the Pontotoc County jail he had become part of a rotten system. He knew Dennis Fritz was an innocent man, yet he'd been convicted by the same cops and same prosecutor in the same courtroom.
Judge Jones was anxious to finish the trial. Without a pause, he ordered the state to begin the penalty phase. Nancy Shew addressed the jury and explained that since the murder was especially heinous, atrocious, and cruel, and since it was committed for the purpose of preventing arrest, and since there was a strong likelihood that Ron would kill again and was thus a continuing threat to society, he should be put to death.
To prove this, the state called four witnesses, four women Ron had encountered before, none of whom had bothered to press criminal charges against him. The first was Beverly Setliff, who testified that on June 14, 1981, seven years earlier, she had seen Ron
Williamson outside her house late at night as she was preparing for bed. He yelled,
'Hey,' and, 'I know you're in there and I'm going to get you.' She had never seen him before. She locked the doors and he disappeared.
She did not call the police, didn't even think about it, really, and didn't consider filing a complaint until the next day, when she saw a cop at a convenience store and told him about the incident. If a formal report was prepared, she never saw it.
Three weeks later, she saw Ron again, and a friend told her his name. Six years passed. When Ron was arrested, she called the police and told the story of the prowler.
The next witness was Lavita Brewer, the same woman who testified against Dennis Fritz. She told her story again-meeting Ron and Dennis in a bar in Norman, getting in the car with them, becoming frightened, jumping out, calling the police. According to her version, Ron never touched her or threatened her in any manner. She became hysterical in the backseat of Dennis's car because he would not stop and let her out, and the worst thing Ron did during the episode was to tell her to shut up.
She eventually jumped out of the car, fled, called the police, but did not press charges. Letha Caldwell testified again. She had known Ron Williamson since their junior high days at Byng and had always been friendly with him. During the early 1980s, he and Dennis Fritz began hanging around her house late at night, always drinking. One day she was working in her flower beds and Ron appeared. They had small talk and she kept working, which irritated him. At one point, he grabbed her wrist. She broke free, walked into the house, then realized that her children were inside. He followed her, but didn't touch her again and soon left. She did not report the incident to the police.
The final witness was by far the most damaging. A divorced woman named Andrea Hardcastle told a harrowing tale of an ordeal that lasted over four hours. In 1981, Ron and a friend were at her house, trying to coax her into going out with them. They were headed for the Coachlight. Andrea was keeping three children of her own and two others, so she could not go out.
The men left, but Ron soon returned to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. He entered the house uninvited and quickly made a pass at Andrea. It was after ten at night, the children were asleep, and she was frightened. She had no interest in sex. He exploded, striking her repeatedly about the face and head and demanding that she
