Imperfect Justice_ Prosecuting Casey Anthony - Jeff Ashton [126]
The courtroom was impressive, with a ceiling two stories high and a balcony that accommodated a hundred spectators. It faced south with two big windows looking out on Orlando behind the judge’s bench. It had been built as a largely ceremonial center with little attention paid to acoustics, but over the past ten years, the sound system had undergone some improvements. Judge Perry had just authorized the most recent round, and we were assured that the sound had improved considerably. Even so, it took three or four days before everyone could be heard without strange echoes or feedback. They did a great job of fine-tuning the system, and by the fourth day, we finally got to the point where everybody could hear us.
Along with us were Mario Perez and Arlene Zayas, who were the primary nonlawyers working with us on the case. Both people stayed with us throughout the trial, each with his or her own carved-out role. Mario would be our computer operator during the entire trial. Linda had wanted to hire a professional trial presentation company to come in and help us with the graphics and trial exhibits. Sadly, juries today expect dazzle and high-tech presentations, and Linda thought we really needed the extra polish. She had lobbied hard for it, but in the end the office wouldn’t go for it. Instead, we bought some presentation software that Mario, an invaluable though silent member of the team, learned to use. The software was far above and beyond what we had ever used in the past but still fell short of what Linda wanted.
Arlene, meanwhile, served as our witness manager and secretary, which meant that she was in the unfortunate position of being the one we would yell at for things that were not her fault. Needlessly stressful for her, but that’s the role of the witness manager, to take the grief. She knew we weren’t criticizing her personally. It was her responsibility to have all seventy-five witnesses there when we needed them, which was no small job. Linda, Frank, Mario, Arlene, and I left the office that Monday afternoon knowing everything was in place, but not really knowing just how crazy the trial would be.
Linda, Frank, and I each had our own role to play, too. I was going to be the forensics man and the one who took on George Anthony. Frank was assigned to the “friends of Casey,” plus Lee Anthony. Linda was going to handle all the law enforcement witnesses, Cindy Anthony, and Casey herself, if and when Casey took the stand. We had to anticipate that Casey was going to testify, based on the posturing of the defense and the allegations they we knew they were about to dive-bomb us with. Linda was exceptional at cross-examination and was really looking forward to her marquis moment with Casey.
The courtroom felt different now that it was filled with people. Our team had prepared for this day for three years, and now that it was curtain time, I was feeling the rush. The gallery had filled in a half hour earlier with journalists and citizens who had waited all night for tickets. The court stenographer was at her post, the bailiff was by the jury box, and the clerk was positioned in front of Judge Perry’s bench. The jury was in place, all seven women, five men, and three alternates.
The prosecution team sat at the table on the right, directly facing Judge Perry. I was in the center, flanked