Buried Memories (31 page)

Bandy reiterated Shirley Stegner’s involvement in the death of Doyle Wayne Barker, emphasizing what a planner Betty had been, and what a conniving, greedy, self-absorbed woman she was. “He’s been beating me, and if I get a divorce, I’ll lose his trailer,” Bandy quoted in a falsetto voice, then shook his head.

That line forced Betty to glare at the district attorney.

“Now Betty says her son got into a fight with Jimmy Don Beets and she heard a shot. Just one shot. Now if there are two shots fired inside a house trailer, and there are two bullets found with the body, you’re going to hear those shots from a .38.

“Now if two men are fighting,” Bandy said, flailing his fists in front of him to demonstrate a fight, “it isn’t likely that one of them is going to get shot in the
back
of the head,” he said, pointing to his skull.

Bandy asked, “Did she try to do anything for Jimmy Don? Did she call an ambulance? Did she try to get someone to determine if this man, ‘Whom I’m deeply in love with,’ to see if he was really dead? No, she just put him in a sleeping bag and pushed him in the wishing well.”

A juror sitting close to Bandy mouthed, “No,” to each question.

“Lil Smith from the marina called her a brave woman. But what Betty Beets was is
cold.
Cold as a well chain throughout it all. She took all of this care of the yard and didn’t know that Doyle Wayne Barker was buried in that yard?” Bandy said with sarcasm. Now that he reached the end of his statement, his voice resounded like a Baptist preacher’s. “That’s tragic! It’s horrifying! It’s shocking that such a crime as that could be committed by someone residing among the God-fearing citizens of Henderson County, Texas.

“She’s been brought to justice and the proof is there, and under the evidence I ask you to find her guilty of the offense of capital murder.”

E. Ray Andrews stood slowly. This would be his only chance. He approached the jury, smiling, as if to say, “Remember, we’re still friends? I’m the good ole boy from Henderson County.” He stood by the rail, touching his fingers together, prayerlike. “Mr. Bandy would like you to believe that Robert and Shirley should be blessed for any of their actions or their testimony. He wants you to think they didn’t do a thing in the world.

“The prosecution told you they were going to bring ninety-five people here to testify. They actually used about fifteen or twenty. Now, where are those other seventy people?” he said, gesturing toward the DA.

“Now you saw Robert Branson. Did you see him leaving here waving and smiling? God bless you, Mom. God bless you, Daddy.” E. Ray smiled as he imitated Robby. But then he frowned, knitting his dark eyebrows together and said, “Robby’s cold blooded. He admitted he was cold blooded [a fact not supported by Robby’s testimony] and I subject him to you as a cold blooded killer.

“And the State brought in this other body over my objection. They couldn’t prove a case against Jimmy Don Beets, so he’s got to go out and bring in other things. He brought that in simply to inflame your minds. He’s done that, but Bandy don’t go back in the jury room with you. Thank the Lord.

“But remember Dr. Petty. He’s a good doctor. We talked about that fracture in Jimmy Don Beets’s skull. I asked him, ‘Could that have been caused by a blow to the head in a fistfight?’ He said, ‘Yes.’ When I passed the witness and Bandy asked, ‘Could it be caused by a bullet?’ Petty said, ‘No.’ You have the benefit to carry that back in the jury room.

“Robby Branson took the stand and admitted killing Jimmy Don Beets one time,” he said, gesturing with his raised forefinger. “That’s the only time he told the truth.

“Robby tells this old story about helping his mother. These lies that were repeated a few minutes ago. That just didn’t happen. That old dog just won’t hunt. Huh-uh. Have you ever seen anyone so cold blooded? Anybody that would turn on their mother that way? Then go out of this courthouse waving at people, waving at reporters, laughing and smiling.”

E. Ray again insisted that Betty knew nothing of Jimmy Don’s insurance and never pestered him or anyone to get her the proceeds, so he maintained that this couldn’t have been a capital murder case.

“The State has no evidence whatsoever that put a gun in Betty Beets’s hand. She didn’t run, but took the witness stand and told you that she did her part in this to protect her macho-man, the liar. Who knows what a mother would do to protect her child? Robby wouldn’t have a care in the world for his mother to rot in the penitentiary. It wouldn’t bother him for them to put her on a table and put a needle in her arm.”

One juror turned toward Betty, giving her a sympathetic glance.

“Now Ray Bone. Me and him’s almost got into a little hassle up here,” E. Ray said and grinned. “Convicted killer. He was
Bandy’s
witness.

“Then we put Mrs. Beets on the stand and you heard Bandy asking that poor woman, how come you didn’t cry? And how come you lied in the previous hearings? And she told you she lied to protect that waving, grinning cat, cold-blooded-killer son of hers.

“How come Betty Beets got up here? It’s always been my theory living in a rural area, being a country boy, that the jury wants to hear both sides.

“The DA did not prove every element of the indictment beyond a reasonable doubt. All he did was throw in red herrings. Red herrings about another body. Red herrings about fan-dancing auditioning. Just stick to the evidence of this case alone. That’s how it should be tried.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you fair people in Henderson County will return a verdict of not guilty. I thank you very much.”

Bill Bandy had been taking notes on E. Ray’s closing. Now he laid down his pen, and went back to the front of the jury to make his final plea.

“Members of the jury. It’s a strategy in law, if you don’t have a defense, try the prosecutor.”

The jurors smiled and nodded.

“Betty’s plan hit a snag. Texas law has a seven-year waiting period before a missing person is presumed dead.

“What kind of wife would shoot her husband as he lay sleeping on their bed? What kind of mother would seek to pin the murder on her own child? What kind of person would turn this town into a killing ground?” Bandy’s voice rose with each question, and the jurors hung on every word.

“There is a need for justice in this case, a strong need that calls out from Jimmy Don’s family, his son, his mother and father. Those who loved him, from the men he worked with fighting fires. The men who turned out and looked for him so diligently. This case has been investigated, indicted, and it has been proved. Members of the jury, it is your responsibility, and I ask you to do your duty and find her guilty of capital murder.”

The hushed courtroom sat silently after hearing Bandy’s appeal. Then Judge Holland announced that since it was one
P.M.
, they would take a lunch break. After lunch, the jury would begin its deliberations.

TWENTY-EIGHT

While the crowd of media and onlookers waited for the jury to reach its verdict, they wandered through the shops and walked past the businesses surrounding the courthouse. All the buildings on courthouse square are turn-of-the-century architecture, and built about that time or shortly thereafter. The structures have a look of heritage and stability about them. The largest buildings throughout Athens are not fancy shops or elaborate stores, but churches, some dating back to the nineteenth century. That influence marks the community, and some of the movers and shakers in Dallas trace their roots to Henderson County. One, Clint Murchison, became the first owner of the Dallas Cowboys football team, and Rita Clements, whose husband, Bill, was a Texas governor. Both men made their fortunes in oil.

Once word spread that the jury had reached a decision, those milling around the courthouse, and out on the spacious grounds surrounding the building, scrambled back inside to find a seat. In moments, they’d learn Betty’s fate. The jury must have heard the snickers in the courtroom as Betty pretended to cry, but her attorney was E. Ray Andrews, and how many chosen jurors could have been his cult followers? He had won more than his fair share of serious felony cases.

Everyone waited expectantly as the somber-faced jurors, who had deliberated for six and a half hours, filed into the room. Judge Holland asked the jury if they had reached a verdict. The foreman nodded and handed the written verdict to the bailiff to take to the judge. He glanced at it for a second and asked Betty and E. Ray to stand.

The judge read, “We, the jury, find the defendant, Betty Lou Beets, guilty of the offense of capital murder as charged in the indictment.”

Betty blinked, but showed no emotion. E. Ray muttered an expletive under his breath. Four of Betty’s children sat in the courtroom, paralyzed by the news, and too numb to cry.

In Texas, the punishment phase is a separate procedure, and it would begin the following Monday. Judge Holland announced he’d sequester the jury as a cautionary act. Because Betty had been found guilty of a capital charge, the judge didn’t want to take any chance that jurors would read the newspapers or be swayed by a friend or family member who held their own opinion without the benefit of having heard the testimony.

Judge Holland told the jury they’d be in the Holiday Inn all weekend. He looked at them sympathetically and said, “I hope it won’t be too confining for you.”

After Betty’s verdict had been read, her same four children who had attended the verdict announcement—Faye, Connie, Phyllis, and Bobby—waited outside the courtroom for their mother to emerge. The courthouse had no way for the jury, defendant, or observers to leave other than through the double doors exiting to the main marble lobby. After the judge left, a deputy escorted the jury to the bus that would transport them to the Holiday Inn; then the large body of spectators filed out. Several minutes elapsed before Betty appeared in the doorway. Deputy Copeland held on to her arm; her wrists were still locked together.

Her children ran to her, sobbing, all trying to hug her at the same time. With everything that had transpired, they still loved their mother.

Reporters waited in the rear of the courtroom to grab comments from the families as they departed after the announcement.

Doyle Wayne Barker’s sister, Peggy Campbell, appeared happy with the verdict. “I finally know how my brother died,” she said.

Jimmy Don Beet’s only son, Jamie, told reporters, “I think justice has been done. Now my dad can rest in peace.”

A reporter approached a tired-looking Robert Branson, Sr., the father of Betty’s children. “I just feel like this has been hell on the kids,” he said.

No one had spoken in Betty’s defense, so her oldest daughter, Faye Lane, stepped forward. “I know my mother didn’t do this,” she said. “I know down in my heart she’s innocent. It was all an accident.”

One of Judge Holland’s clerks locked her files and headed toward her office door. It had been a long day because the jury’s verdict hadn’t been announced until nine
P.M.
, and she wanted to go home. But when she reached the foyer outside her office, she stopped. She had never heard such crying in her life.

After Bobby Branson’s sisters had left, he still clung to Betty. “Mama, Mama,” he sobbed. “They can’t take you.”

The clerk hid in the shadows, not wanting to intrude. Betty appeared stoic, but her son locked a hug around her neck that bent Betty toward him.

On the threshold of manhood, the seventeen-year-old cried like a baby. “Mama, tell me everything’s gonna be all right. It’s gotta be.”

The clerk hid deeper in the shadows as she watched the pathetic scene unfold and listened to Bobby’s heart-wrenching cries as they echoed down the hallways.

In the punishment phase the following Monday morning, Judge Holland charged the jury to answer two questions. The first: “Were all questions of the defendant’s guilt of capital murder resolved beyond a reasonable doubt?” And the second; “Would the defendant commit future acts of violence and therefore constitute a continuing threat?”

Bandy again spoke first. He looked more formal today in a navy suit, and white-and-navy striped shirt. Adjusting his red tie as he stood to speak, he headed for the jury, maintaining that when they voted for the verdict, all questions of capital murder beyond a reasonable doubt were answered.

“Betty’s act was deliberate with the reasonable expectation of death.” He paced in front of the jury, then stopped and pointed at them, not in an accusatory way, but indicating, “You have the responsibility.”

“You saw the evidence the investigators found on Jimmy Don Beets’s body—two deliberate shots. Death was expected. She told her daughter Shirley that she was going to do this. Deliberate, planned, carried out without mercy,” he said in even, measured tones, as if counting each of Betty’s actions.

When he addressed the possibility of future acts of violence, Bandy said, “She told you of shooting Bill Lane twice. We know of the other two she killed. We must judge a person by their actions. She is a continuing threat of future acts of violence if given the opportunity. Members of the jury, I ask you to vote those questions ‘yes.’ ”

E. Ray pulled himself out of his chair and slowly made his way toward the jury. His shirt collar lay wrinkled under his suit coat. Squinting, he said, “Both of those questions resolved Friday? Was all questions in your mind resolved? Then how come it took over six hours? No, all question was not resolved Friday. You had a job to do, but I certainly disagree. I heard a person say the other day, ‘Can we go to church while we’re at the Holiday Inn?’ I would have liked to answer that question—yes, please go to church. You can correct a wrong here today. The burden of proof is still on the State of Texas. You can correct this wrong by reconsidering in favor of Mrs. Beets. When you get back there, I’m asking you to answer ‘no’ to both of those issues. Don’t listen to anyone else. Can you find her guilty of capital punishment and live with it? Look in your heart and do the right thing. I have faith in you.