Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [168]
Then the gun, to his horror, went off. By accident. It might have been a defense. It could have created some reasonable doubt. It would, at least, tone down the most powerful detail, emotionally speaking, in the prosecution's case. Yet, that argument could now be employed only as one of several possibilities during a general summation to the Jury. You could not build your case on it, not when many a lawyer in Provo, given the existence of the confession, would see such tactics as sleazy.
2
A trial for murder in Utah was conducted in two parts. If the defendant was found Guilty in the First Degree, a Mitigation Hearing had to be held right after. One could then introduce witnesses who were there to testify to the character of the accused, good or bad. After such testimony, the Jury would go out a second time, and decide between life imprisonment and death.
If Gary was found guilty, his life would depend on this Mitigation Hearing. Yet here he became uncooperative. He would not agree to calling Nicole as a witness. They tried to discuss it. There, in the little visitor's room at County Jail, he did not listen to Snyder and Esplin's argument that they had to be able to make the Jury see him as a human being. Who better than his girl friend could show he was a man with a good side? But Gilmore would not allow bringing her into the case. "My life with Nicole," he seemed to be saying, "is sacred and sealed."
He was not forthcoming. He did not suggest witnesses. When he gave up a few details of how he lived in Provo, the details were dry.
He did not offer the names of friends. He would say, "There was this kid I work with, and we had a beer." He sat on his side of the visiting room, remote, soft voiced, not unfriendly, hopelessly distant.
On the other hand, he did show some curiosity about his lawyers' backgrounds. It was as if he preferred to ask the questions. In the hope of priming him, Snyder and Esplin were ready, therefore, to talk about themselves. Craig Snyder's father, for instance, had run a nursing home in Salt Lake, and Craig had gone to the University of Utah. While there, he made head cheerleader, he told Gary with a self-effacing grin. His wife had been president of a sorority. He was still an avid football and basketball fan. Played golf, paddle ball and tennis, gin rummy and bridge. After law school, he moved to Texas and worked in the corporate tax department of Exxon, but came back to Utah because he liked being a trial attorney more.
"Any kids?" asked Gilmore.
"Travis is six, and Brady is two." Craig's expression was round and serious, friendly and cautious.
"Yeah," said Gilmore.
Esplin had wanted to be a sports hero, but suffered hay fever as a child. He grew up on a ranch, and went to England on a mission.
When he came back at twenty-one, he got married. Long before, by the time he was thirteen, he had read all the Perry Mason books he could find. Erle Stanley Gardner made Mike Esplin a lawyer, but private practice seemed to consist of bankruptcies and divorce cases.
So, for the last year, he had worked full time in Provo as a Public Defender.
Gilmore nodded. Gilmore took it in. He did not give a great deal back. Did not think there was anything they could use from his prison years. Only the prison record and that wasn't written for him but for the institution. His mother might make a good witness, he allowed, but she was arthritic, and could not travel.
Snyder and Esplin got in touch with Bessie Gilmore. Gary was right-she could not travel. There was the cousin, Brenda Nicol, only Gary was angry at her. At the Preliminary Hearing on August 3, he had waved to her across the Court. Thought she was there to see him. Soon learned that Noall Wootton had called