If You Only Knew (34 page)

CHAPTER 83

VONLEE HAD ADMITTED TO
taking part in a murder and also covering it up. Whether she was feeling guilty about it, sick over it, had drunk herself into denial and forgetfulness, it was all beside the point. For the APA, this was all about the law.

Skrzynski wasted little time getting into what he thought was the most important aspect of his cross. His first question: “Miss Titlow, you have male genitalia, right?”

“Yes.”

From there, the APA brought in the escort business Vonlee had owned and operated, asking a series of questions regarding “soliciting men for sex.”

“You never solicited undercover police officers?” the APA asked.

“No, I did not.”

“And you were never arrested by the police for that?”

“Yes, I was.”

“You never solicited an undercover police officer to give him sex?”

“No, I did not.”

“But you were arrested?”

“Yes, I was.”

This was a contradiction in facts. When such exchanges were left unexplained, just floating out there, the jury would assume the worst. A good trial attorney, Skrzynski, being at the top of his game here, knew that assumption and speculative questioning could be as powerful as an admission. He moved on from that line of questioning and focused on the idea of Vonlee “posing for pictures.”

She denied that they were dirty pictures for public consumption—the photos were for her personal use only.

The postulation here by the state was that Vonlee had “made erotic pictures and sold them over the Internet.”

She disagreed with the state on this point.

Skrzynski speculated how hard it was to believe that Vonlee made upward of twenty-five thousand dollars a month as an escort service owner/operator, and she and her girls had
not
slept with any of the guys.

She wouldn't budge on this point. (Though she later told the author they had indeed provided sex in some form for pay.)

The APA moved on to an idea that was central to any motivation Vonlee might have had for killing Don.

“At the time that this happens in August of 2000, you're not interested in the sex change operation, are you?”

“It wasn't on my mind, no.”

“And that certainly was not a motive that you might have had to kill someone, was it?”

“No, it was not.”

“All right. So that idea of a sex change operation was a media invention you said?”

“Yes, it was.”

Bill Cataldo listened carefully and found no opening in which to interject and slow the pace down. With every question Skrzynski posed, Vonlee came across worse; the hole was getting deeper. Vonlee seemed to be a money-hungry transsexual, an escort service madam, a drunk, wild chick, who lived life in the fast lane, willing to go along with her aunt because she would ultimately benefit financially from the death. Skrzynski took a good hour questioning Vonlee on everything from how slippery the floor in the kitchen was to how she screamed at Zimmerman and Tullock, to those first responders arriving at the scene, to how Billie Jean had maybe once said to her niece that she should hire a “friend” for twenty-five thousand dollars to kill Don (a suggestion that Vonlee thought was nothing more than her aunt talking about the cost of a new floor).

After all of that, the APA put into question the “fact,” according to Vonlee, that she had told Danny on the first day she met him she was a transsexual. The state wasn't buying it.

Then it was on to the ring Danny had given her and how she couldn't accept it because she “had a penis.”

Skrzynski wanted to know if she had ever told Zimmerman and Tullock that “there were ways of hiding it (her penis) so that no one will ever know.”

Vonlee denied ever saying such a thing.

The APA kept pressing. One question after the next. Hardballs, all of them, from the subject of her penis to how many drinks she had on the day Don died. Vonlee withstood the barrage fairly well and came across as sincere and, perhaps, a bit naïve.

It was perfectly clear from the APA's point of view that the state did not believe much of what Vonlee was saying. Her story didn't have holes—it had craters! She might have been more involved in the entire murder than she was trying to sell to jurors.

On and on, this went, well into the afternoon. Vonlee was asked about certain parts of her story, backward and forward. One would guess the APA was trying to trip her up. Skrzynski said a lot of “Now, wait a minute . . .” and “Is that right?” These phrases gave jurors the impression he did not believe her side.

Not once during this blistering cross-examination, though, did Vonlee lose it, or come across as if she was flat-out lying. She tried to answer every question as best she could, even those she knew would hurt her.

Vonlee said a number of times, “I had no idea she was trying to hurt him,” as they discussed the actual moment when Don was passed out and Billie Jean and Vonlee were down on their knees, messing around with him.

In the end, Vonlee stuck to her story that she believed, at first, it “was all a joke” and that Billie Jean had done this before. But when she came out of that bathroom and saw her aunt with the pillow, she realized Billie Jean had a plan to kill Don and she was initiating it. And Vonlee's crime, or involvement, began right there, in that moment, when she helped her aunt toss the pillow and empty bottle of booze, went to the casino, came home, and called 911 and told the cops a story.

As they sparred back and forth about the details of that night, Skrzynski brought out one major contention through his brilliant cross-examination: Why hadn't Vonlee told Danny she went into the bathroom and came out and saw Billie Jean with the pillow? Skrzynski referred to the omission as a “big detail” to have left out of her recorded conversation with Danny—one that she was perhaps tacking on now to cover for herself.

“I really didn't want to discuss it with him,” Vonlee said.

Skrzynski's allegation was a well-placed one. If jurors thought Vonlee had added this “detail” later, she was guilty.

The money came up again as Skrzynski wound down. The APA insinuated that Vonlee took the money because she earned it by keeping her mouth shut about the crime they had committed
together
.

Vonlee disagreed.

Skrzynski detoured back into Danny and when he realized Vonlee was a man. He was having a hard time accepting that Vonlee had told Danny when she first met him.

“So”—the APA asked, pacing a bit back and forth in front of Vonlee—“as of the time of Don' s death . . . you're telling the jury that Danny already knew that you were a man?”

“If he didn't know, I don't know how he didn't. But he seemed very surprised when I relayed to him that I had a penis. I mean, there is a possibility he may not have known. I don't know.”

Skrzynski saw one final opening: “There is?” he asked, surprised by Vonlee's answer. “So then he's telling us the truth when he says he doesn't know then, right?”

“If he doesn't know, I don't understand how in the world he
couldn't
know.”

“I mean. Isn't the whole idea of you getting dressed up as a woman . . . to convince people that you are, in fact, a woman? Isn't that what's the whole idea of this?”

“No, it is not,” Vonlee said. She felt insulted by the statement. (Skrzynski obviously had no clue what it was like to live inside the body of a man as a woman, and Vonlee considered the APA was being insensitive.)

“That's not why you have hormone shots so you can have breasts? That's not why you do that?”

“No! It's not.”

“That's not why you dress in low-cut gowns and miniskirts? You don't want people to believe that you're a woman? That's
not
why you do that?”

“That's not the only reason.”

Skrzynski kept at it, tossing salt.

Finally, Vonlee said, “I do that for myself. Because that's the way I feel.”

“And your goal is to make people
feel
that you're a woman, too, right?” Skrzynski said, not letting up.

“My goal is for me to be comfortable, and I'm comfortable in dresses and heels and makeup and my hair done. That's . . . the way I
choose
to live. I mean, it's not to fool anybody.... I've always felt that way.”

Skrzynski went through a series of questions centered on how dressing up as a woman was meant to “deceive people,” and that's what Vonlee was good at—deception.

Vonlee said no, no, no. The APA had it all wrong.

“People think that I am a female,” she said defiantly.

Skrzynski stopped. “Thank you,” he said.

CHAPTER 84

ON TUESDAY, MARCH 19,
John Skrzynski and Bill Cataldo offered closing arguments. There was nothing new here—or, rather, nothing that hadn't already been said ten times backward and forward. Each side argued calmly and with merit for his case. Vonlee was facing a mountain of evidence. Many courtroom watchers believed it would be an easy win for the state. Yet, as Billie Jean Rogers's trial had proven, surprises did happen within the confines of a high-profile murder trial.

As Vonlee sat and listened, she harkened back to a day when Billie Jean was “Aunt Billie,” the fun aunt, the aunt every kid screams for when she comes through the door at Christmas, the aunt every parent worries about.

But here was Vonlee facing a murder charge at the hand of that same beloved, adored person. How life could throw daggers, with one seemingly always landing in the center of the heart.

As the trial drew toward an ending, her hero-worship sentiments held a nostalgic bitterness and sadness for Vonlee. As she sat and listened to Judge Potts give the jury instructions after each side concluded its closing, Vonlee had mixed feelings about her aunt. She wanted to hate her, but she couldn't. Still, had this all been some sort of a dream? Had Vonlee fallen into a black hole? She recalled this period when the judge was instructing jurors as being a moment when she felt as though she was living someone else's life. It was that seven to fifteen years—there it was buzzing in Vonlee's head as the day's proceedings closed out.

It sounded so doable.

So fair.

* * *

On the following morning, March 20, the jury sent a note to Judge Potts. Within that note, it was obvious that each juror had taken his and her responsibility seriously. The jury wanted “pictures” of the “crime scene, forensics of the body, transcripts of the tape” that Danny Chahine had made. They also wanted a transcription of Vonlee's testimony.

Then a rather telling question—one that made Bill Cataldo smile: “Does someone's inaction, nonaction, to stop or prevent a crime resulting in death amount to fulfillment of condition three, second-degree murder, knowingly creating a high risk of death, knowing that death would be the likely result of his actions?”

The judge explained that she had provided the jury with everything each needed within her instructions, concluding: “It is up to you to decide an answer.”

Later that same day, Judge Potts indicated she was bringing in the jury because “they have reached a verdict.”

After everyone got settled and the foreperson stood, Judge Potts asked Vonlee to do the same.

With a worried gaze flushed over her, a look of utter instability, as though about to collapse, Vonlee stood. The wait was over. The jury was about to deliver her fate.

“We find the defendant guilty of the lesser offense of second-degree murder.”

Bill Cataldo had pulled it off. “He had a full recorded confession,” Cataldo said of the APA, “and I
still
beat him.”

Judge Potts put off the sentencing until April. She wanted to take a look at everything, sit back, think it through, and then do the right thing.

Cataldo believed all along that Vonlee had been “used by Billie Jean.” He considered the notion that the jury understood Vonlee had stopped. “She didn't commit the ultimate act. She was consistent.” Her story never wavered. “Remember, she volunteered that statement to Danny Chahine. It wasn't coerced. It wasn't an interview in where the police are using leading questions to get information out of her. And she
passed
a polygraph.”

Every one of those points, the defense attorney added, led the jury to believe that first-degree murder was not the right choice.

This alone was cause for a celebration.

CHAPTER 85

A “CRUSHING BLOW” WAS
how Vonlee described hearing “guilty,” regardless of the lesser count. She wanted a verdict of not guilty, obviously. Or maybe a manslaughter conviction with time served. But that wasn't to be. Harry Vonlee “Nicole” Titlow was now a convicted murderer. And always would be.

“I feel that I was found guilty of murder for not stopping Billie Jean,” Vonlee said later. Vonlee especially did not appreciate the way Judge Potts answered the jury's question. She believed the jury was headed toward manslaughter and would have voted for the lesser offense, had their question been answered properly by the judge.

“Everything changed at that point,” Vonlee said, talking about the moment they asked the second-degree murder question and Judge Potts told them to decide among themselves what the answer should be.

There was something inside Vonlee that kept telling her maybe Judge Potts would go easy on her. Perhaps she'd see that Vonlee was not a murderer, in fact, but rather someone who had taken responsibility for her small part in a larger crime committed by someone else.

Thank God I didn't get first-degree,
Vonlee gratefully thought as she went back to her cell and had a moment to take in what the course of her life had just delivered to her. She was ecstatic that it was simply over. Nothing was worse, she admitted, than all the waiting and wondering.

As the days passed and she focused on the upcoming sentencing, another feeling arose. Vonlee was obviously going through what was a series of emotions after a decision had changed her life.

“None of this was fair,” Vonlee now believed. “My aunt did this and I am the one paying for what
she
did? I did not kill anybody. I did not kill
anybody.
Billie Jean did.”

Falling back on her Christian roots, Vonlee started attending church services inside the jail. Her faith had played a large role in her journey and where she ended up, Vonlee believed. There were times, she claimed, when she'd lie on the bed in her cell and “speak in tongues” and not know how in the world she was doing it. She'd never spoken in tongues before. It was something that just started one night after church services and she went with it.

On her knees, praying, Vonlee became terrified by the notion that she had “let God down.” She had broken prayer promises to God and was now paying for that deceit.

Seven to fifteen was what I should have taken, Lord, I know,
she prayed one night.
I realize now it was a blessing that I had been given.
Vonlee could see that God had given her a chance and she squandered it. A divine gift had been handed to her and she had rejected it.

“I felt that the Devil had sent Mr. Toca in as one of His minions,” Vonlee said later. “I mean, I'm not a religious fanatic or anything, but he . . . he was the Devil. He came to me with an evil intent. And the entire motive for me to follow him was money, fame and fortune. It was something both of us were motivated by.”

As April came to pass, Vonlee was called back into court to receive Judge Potts's sentence. By now, she had left revenge in the wake of her emotional roller coaster and came around the curve of acceptance. Vonlee's focus after sentencing, however, was going to be getting Frederick Toca disbarred for what she believed he had done to her. Beyond all the appeals that would be filed, Vonlee was on the hunt for an appellate lawyer that could take a look at what Toca had done. Vonlee spoke to Bill Cataldo and others about her plan; there wasn't a lawyer in town she could find who actually disagreed with her on this matter.