Imperfect Justice_ Prosecuting Casey Anthony - Jeff Ashton [116]
The next day the defense filed an objection to the chosen venue, and I liked the way Judge Perry handled it. We had a hurriedly called hearing in chambers with all the attorneys present and a court reporter. When the defense began to complain about the demographics issue—apparently Pinellas has a smaller percentage of Hispanic residents than Orange does—Perry looked at them and said, “Well, the only other place I can think of that can accommodate us on such short notice is Jacksonville. You want to go there?” Located in the northeastern corner of Florida, Jacksonville is thought to be a more conservative area politically, and thus was not the first choice of the defense. They withdrew their objections, and we left to pack.
On that Friday the St. Petersburg Times was reporting unusual activity at their courthouse: extra deputies being brought in, additional food for the courthouse cafeteria, and parking spaces being roped off. The logistics alone had tipped them off, and while no one was confirming it, the media pretty much knew. My sister Judy, who had followed the case, sent me a text when the article came out asking if it was true. I told her I couldn’t answer till Monday.
In a way I was kind of relieved that they had a clue where we were going. We had nightmares of the media camped outside our homes waiting to follow us to the location. I had decided not to drive, so Linda agreed to pick me up in her car. She showed up Sunday morning dressed casually for the drive over. It’s always weird seeing people that you encounter every day in a business suit suddenly dressed differently. She was wearing an odd-looking shirt with a number on it, white pants, and white sunglasses. I packed up the car and off we went. The drive to Pinellas is about two hours, so we talked about the case a bit on the way but mostly just chitchatted.
We arrived at our hotel after Frank, who had already checked in. He met us in the parking lot. When Linda got out of the car, Frank laughed and said, “Nice outfit.”
“Finally,” Linda responded. “Someone who is observant. I’ve been riding with this dummy for two hours and he hasn’t noticed a thing.”
What had escaped my attention was this: When Casey was arrested, a photo of her being escorted in handcuffs by the police had been taken that had been shown a thousand times. In it, she is wearing a blue hooded short-sleeved shirt with the number 82 on the front. It was one of the items she bought with her friend Amy’s forged checks, along with a pair of white sunglasses. I had forgotten that early in the case Linda had gone out and bought the identical shirt and glasses. So the entire drive, she’d been in her Casey costume. I totally missed it. They had a good laugh at my expense, and at that point I think we all needed a good laugh.
Once we were all assembled, Linda had an interesting suggestion. We were still trying to keep a low profile since the word wasn’t out officially that we were in town. Linda wanted us to sneak over to the courthouse and get a group picture to commemorate the occasion. Frank and I thought it was a great idea. After dinner, we went over to the courthouse and scouted out a place for our picture. There were too many news trucks already near the building itself, so we cruised through but didn’t stop. I kept thinking we were going to get stopped by some cop thinking we were up to no good. Finally we settled on a sign on the road at the other end of the parking lot. Linda pulled off on the shoulder,