By Amber Dunn
Victim Assistance Coordinator in the Denton County Criminal District Attorney’s Office
If you are like me, as a victim assistance coordinator (VAC) in a prosecutor’s office, your favorite part of the job is being in the courtroom with the victims and their families. I could not wait to be back in court after having no jury trials for the last 16 months due to the pandemic.
It would have been nice to have a simple case to get my bearings, but no chance. Instead, my first jury trial back was a capital murder that had been set to go to trial for some time. In this case, the defendant had been robbing people to sell the items and get cash. The victim in our case, an older gentleman, did not show for work one day, which caused his co-workers concern. They contacted his family, and his mother and daughter headed to his house to check on him. The front door was locked, so his daughter went around back. She found her father on the living room floor stabbed to death.
We worked with the victim’s family, which consisted of his mother, his adult daughter (the one who found him), and his adult son. Our victim was an only child, and he was a very loving son. He would take his mother out every Sunday for dinner. His mother had even moved closer to him at his request so that he could look after her. We never know when something bad might happen but there was never a thought that he would go before her. On the 911 call, which the victim’s mother made, you can hear her say that she did not know how she could live—meaning, of course, without her son. It was a very emotional 911 call to say the least. Mother and son shared a close relationship, one that will never be the same because of this defendant.
Pre-trial conversations
This family came to the office several years ago for our first meeting, attended by the victim’s mom, daughter, and son, plus two prosecutors, the investigator, and me. We did not get very far into the meeting before the daughter stormed out of the room with much emotion—having found her dad’s body, you can only imagine the sight she saw. I, of course, went after her. I talked her down, and we rejoined the meeting. Our hearts went out to her.
During the pandemic, many cases were resolved by plea agreements, but this case was not one. It was actually set for a jury trial before the pandemic even started. It was reset for a date during the pandemic, too, and then it was reset yet again, this time because the prosecutors just did not want to try the case with masks in the courtroom. I remember calling the mother to tell her that it was reset again. When calling families to tell them something like this, it is often hard for them to understand. We have never gone through a pandemic before, and we did not know what the courtroom would look like. Facial expressions are a huge part of communication, and we did not want to lose that—we wanted the jury to get the full picture of someone answering questions from the stand, including any of their facial expressions. A person’s testimony is very important, and we needed the communication to be clear in every way possible. I was glad when the mother agreed completely with our decision. It was nice to call a victim for once and have her understand and agree with why we asked for a reset.
We finally went to trial this year when courtrooms started reopening.
The trial itself
There was no real social distancing during this trial. It looked like the normal old courtroom I am used to except for the air purifier sitting right outside the jury box, next to the State’s table. It gave me some peace that the air we were breathing was being purified. I felt safe around the mother as we had both been vaccinated. It is a new world we are living in, and we all need to do our best to keep each other safe.
During trials, there are times I know who’s about to take the stand thanks to the good communication I have with my investigator. If I know a witness is going to show crime scene pictures or when the medical examiner (ME) testifies, I always warn the family members that they will not want to be in the courtroom during this testimony. During this trial, when the ME was about to testify, I let the family know it was time to leave. This family had many other loved ones and friends who came to support them; they took up three full rows in the gallery. I thought everyone was following me as I headed to the door, but when I looked back, I realized the victim’s daughter was not in the crowd leaving.
I stepped aside, went back to the first row, sat down by her, and said, “You do not want to be in here for this.” She replied, “Yes, I do.” I repeated, “No, you do not. Please come with me.” I could tell she was not moving, so I said, “Let’s go talk about it outside,” and she reluctantly followed me.
We left the courtroom and I explained to her (and everyone else) that as soon as the witness was off the stand, I would take them all back in, but that I needed to go back in to be with the family and friends who had stayed in the courtroom. The mother of the deceased understood so I went back into court. On my way, I asked my investigator, Mike Sparby, to reiterate what I had just explained, and he of course always has my back, so I knew I was leaving the family in good hands.
It was only a short while before my investigator came back into the courtroom requesting my help in the hallway. The daughter was not backing down and wanted in the courtroom. I spoke with both her and her grandmother, who was already crying, and tried to talk the daughter into staying out in the hallway with her grandma. I explained to the daughter that we had only two witnesses after the ME, and we could not risk her having an outburst because of graphic photos—it could be a huge distraction and cause a possible mistrial, and we would have to start all over again with the trial. We had come too far for that.
The daughter told me that seeing those photos would bring her closure. If you have ever seen some of the pictures I have, you know that no family member is going to get any closure out of those horrific images. I think once the daughter realized I was not going to give in, she got mad and said she was going to take a smoke break. Grandmother did not want her to, but I encouraged her to go. She needed this time.
At this point, the rest of the family had sat outside the courtroom doors to wait. The daughter stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned around. I was still watching her, and something in me told me that if I turned my back or went back into the courtroom to be with the other family and friends, she would bolt for the courtroom doors. Having that feeling, I just stood by the doors watching her, and she finally figured out that I was not leaving. She turned around and headed to the elevators. I could see she wasn’t happy. This is the first time as a VAC I have felt like I needed to guard the courtroom doors.
I should note that the autopsy photos were so graphic that a juror passed out! When he recovered, he told everyone that he was not going to look at any more pictures. We were thankful we had been able to show the pictures we needed to before that happened.
About this time, one of the prosecutors came into the hallway to let me decide if I wanted to let the family back in. He said he was going to show only the diagram with the rods depicting the stab wounds and let the medical examiner describe everything. That was still not a visual any family needs to see of their loved one. I told him we would just wait until the next witness got on the stand, and he said that was fine, that it was my call. I had already seen the daughter storm out of the courtroom earlier in the week because of a witness who made her so emotional that she just could not control herself. This was just how this daughter is—very emotional. There is a time and place for all feelings, but when there is a jury in the courtroom trying to pay attention to someone’s testimony, family members have to control themselves. I know it is hard and I always have Kleenex ready, but when the judge had already warned the gallery, that was my cue to go above and beyond to make sure they didn’t draw his or the jury’s attention.
I am sure some of you who are reading this article are saying that the courtroom is open to the public, and you’re right, it is. Having said that, I will also say that if I can shield the victim’s family from more pain and heartache, then I will. We have to help a family go through one of the hardest things they will ever do in their lives, and if we can make it just a little bit less awful, we should do everything we can to help that family, even if they fight us. I would not be doing my job if I did not try to protect them from everything I could. Sure, we might get the cold shoulder for a little bit after such a situation, but when it is all over, that family will give you a hug afterwards and you know for sure that you did your job.
Words from the judge
By the end of Friday, we were still in the middle of the defense’s case so we had to break for the weekend. I went into the courtroom to make sure everyone was gone, and the bailiff told me that the judge had remarked how well I was doing my job. The bailiff had been watching the camera outside the courtroom and saw that the daughter tried to come back in during the autopsy pictures. I smiled and said she sure wanted to, that I felt like I had to guard the doors.
As the bailiff was talking to me, the judge stepped back in, saw me, and told me himself, “You are doing a good job.” That really meant more to me than the judge could ever know. I knew this case had been long and hard, but to know that the judge appreciated what I was doing just made my day. I had never thought about anyone watching us through the cameras in the hallway, but it just goes to show that a person should do her job with everything in her no matter if someone is looking or not.
After the defendant was sentenced to life in prison, the family gave two victim allocution statements. I always read the statements before they are given in court, just to be prepared; because of the emotion the daughter had been displaying, I felt like I really needed to read her statement. I approved each one as written; now once they get up there and start their statement, if they go off-script, then that is on them. I had already explained the guidelines to the statement—keeping it short for the court’s time, not asking questions because the defendant cannot answer them, and no profanity in the courtroom. The allocution went well.
Conclusion
Though not all cases turn out the way we would like them to, if we have done our jobs, no matter how difficult they might be, crime victims and families will respect what we have done. I will never forget certain cases, not because of what the defendant did, but because of the amazing family I got to work with. Being a VAC is not a job everyone can do, but if you have compassion and empathy for someone during one of the hardest times in their lives, then you will be able to do the job and show that you care about them and what they have to go through. I am truly blessed to get to work with such talented people who do what it takes to see justice done for victims of violent crimes. The trial team on this capital murder case did an outstanding job, and I am just proud to have been a part of the team.