I also wanted at least four males on the jury, preferably fathers. Angel had a way of engendering sympathy in men. I wanted them to feel an instinct to protect her. I wanted them to hope, perhaps to believe, that they could seek her out after the trial was over and let her know it was their vote, or their influence, that had set her free.
After three hours of questions and answers, challenges and arguments, Judge Green announced that a jury had been chosen. There were five men and seven women. I hadn’t been able to get every person I wanted on the jury because Frankie kept using his challenges to kick them off, but I felt good about the group sitting in the box.
The jurors were given buttons with their names on them, and the judge swore them in. He instructed them on how they should conduct themselves during the case and then looked up at the clock on the back wall.
”It’s noon. I’m hungry. We’ll adjourn until one thirty for lunch.”
After the jury was out of sight, the bailiffs escorted Angel back to the holding cell. Caroline had packed me a sandwich and some chips, and I spent the lunch hour going over my opening statement. At precisely one thirty, Judge Green walked back into the courtroom and ordered the bailiffs to bring the jury in.
I stood as the jury filed in and took their seats. I smiled and tried to catch the eye of each person passing the defense table.
”I trust you had a good lunch,” the judge said. ”Is the state ready?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Is the defense ready?”
”Yes, Judge.”
”Read the indictment, Mr. Martin.”
Martin stood and read the indictment that charged Angel Christian with knowingly, intentionally, and with premeditation taking the life of John Paul Tester. Count Two charged her with abusing the corpse by mutilation.
”Opening statements,” the judge said.
Frankie Martin stood up. ”Ladies and gentlemen, the evidence in this case will show you that the defendant, Angel Christian, brutally stabbed and mutilated John Paul Tester in the early morning on April 12, 2006. Mr. Tester visited a club where the defendant worked on that same evening. The defendant flirted with Mr. Tester, she served him many drinks, and at approximately eleven thirty p.m., Mr. Tester withdrew two hundred dollars from an ATM in the club lobby. The defendant left the establishment shortly after Mr. Tester left. A witness will testify that she saw a woman accompany Mr. Tester to his room around midnight. Mr. Tester was found at approximately one p.m. that afternoon in his hotel room. He had been drugged and stabbed nearly thirty times. His penis had been sliced off and removed from the room. His wallet was gone. His severed penis was found near Pickens Bridge that same morning.”
Martin was calling Tester ”Mister” instead of
”Reverend.” I’d take care of that soon enough.
”Among the evidence gathered during a forensic examination of Mr. Tester’s hotel room were two hairs that were found on his clothing. Both hairs were tested for DNA. A hair sample was later obtained from the defendant. The DNA profile of the hairs found on Mr.
Tester’s body matches exactly the DNA profile of the hair sample obtained from the defendant. The chances of those hairs belonging to someone else are more than one hundred billion to one. You’ll also see a photograph of the defendant taken by the police two days after the murder. The photo shows a bruise on the defendant’s face, and our contention is that she received the bruise during some kind of altercation with Mr. Tester.
”But more important, we have a witness who will testify that the defendant confessed to this brutal crime. Our witness is an inmate at the Washington County Detention Center. Her name is Sarah Dillard.
Ironically, she’s Mr. Dillard’s sister. She will testify that the defendant confessed during a conversation they had at the jail. The defendant told Miss Dillard that on the night of the murder, the defendant followed Mr. Tester back to his motel room with the intention of robbing him. She’ll testify that the defendant told her that she drugged Mr. Tester and killed him after he passed out on the bed.
”I wish I had a videotape to show you, or an eyewitness, but unfortunately, I don’t. What I do have is a web of circumstantial evidence so tightly woven that the defendant cannot possibly escape. Everything points to her. She was at the club. She spoke to Mr. Tester. She served him drinks. She flirted with him. She invited him to leave with her. She followed him to his room, and then she drugged him, murdered him, and robbed him.”
Martin turned and pointed at Angel.
”Don’t let yourselves be fooled by that young woman’s beauty or her youth. Don’t let yourselves be taken in by her attorney’s tricks or the smoke and mirrors that will be placed before you during the course of this trial. That young woman sitting over there committed a vicious murder, and we have the evidence to prove it. It will be your duty to render a verdict of guilty in this case, and to impose on her the only sentence that will give justice to John Paul Tester and his family: a sentence of death. This woman committed first-degree murder. My job is to prove it. Yours is to make her pay the price. I fully intend to hold up my end, and I hope that once you’ve heard all the evidence, you’ll do the same.
Thank you.”
Martin sat down at the prosecutor’s table, and I stood. Martin’s argument had been passionate and persuasive, but parts of it were dishonest, and I intended to point that out immediately. I walked to the wooden lectern, picked it up, and set it down three feet to my right. I didn’t want any barriers between the jurors and me. I glanced at the jurors and then out over the courtroom. Junior Tester had come in and was sitting on the front row, directly to my left.
I noticed that he’d put on at least twenty pounds since I’d visited him last month. He hadn’t shaved in days and looked tired and haggard. He was also staring directly at me. It unnerved me, but only for a few seconds.
”Not much point in having a trial,” I said, ”if you believe everything Mr. Martin just said.” I smiled at the jury. ”If everything he said were true, I suppose we could just go ahead and ship Miss Christian off to death row right now and save everybody all of this trouble.”
I sought out eyes, looking for signs that Martin’s argument had closed their minds. They weren’t avoiding me. They were still receptive to what I had to say.
”But what Mr. Martin just told you isn’t true. It was his interpretation of the evidence, and as every one of you knows, there are two sides to every story.
Now, first things first. This young lady’s name is not
‘the defendant.’ ”
I walked over to the defense table and stood directly behind Angel. I put my hands on her shoulders.
”Her name is Angel Christian, and she’s going to testify in this case. What she will tell you is this:
”On the night of April the eleventh of this year,
”Miss Christian wasn’t a dancer, not a stripper, and she certainly wasn’t a prostitute. She was a waitress. She arrived here in February after leaving a viciously abusive situation back home in Oklahoma.
She originally intended to go to Florida, but she met a young lady on a bus in Dallas who told her she’d help Miss Christian find work here.
”Miss Christian will tell you that on the night of April the eleventh, she served Reverend Tester the drinks he ordered-six doubles, straight scotch, the equivalent of twelve drinks, in two hours. She’ll tell you Reverend Tester became intoxicated and that he was aggressive, even a little abusive, towards her.
She’ll tell you Reverend Tester used inappropriate language and that Reverend Tester touched her inappropriately. She reported Reverend Tester’s behavior to her employer, Ms. Erlene Barlowe, who will also testify in this case.
”Ms. Barlowe spoke to Reverend Tester and eventually asked the reverend to leave. Miss Christian had never seen or heard of Reverend Tester prior to his coming to the club that night, and she never saw him again after he walked out the door.”
