Lethal Guardian (37 page)

“Excuse me? Could you answer that, yes or no? You did not come home for Christmas break?”

“I can’t answer that without an explanation.”

“Did you come home in December 1995?”

“I was assisting the authorities in 1995—”

The judge broke in. “Answer the question, please.”

“No, I did not come home.”

Over the next few minutes, Kane showed clearly that Beth Ann never had any intention of coming home once she stepped foot on British soil. When asked if she had ever heard that Mark Despres had been arrested, she said yes.

“And did you know that he had been arrested on October twenty-eight?”

“I’m not sure that I knew the date.”

“When did you first hear that?”

“I’m not sure.”

For a good part of the afternoon, Kane stayed on the subject of her living in London and, later, Ireland. He wanted to know why immigration wouldn’t let her back into England after she had gone to the Canary Islands.

“I don’t recall.”

Then he wanted to know how she got back into the country.

Smirking, she said, “A plane.”

“And in what airport did you land?”

“I don’t recall.”

“Was it Stansted Airport?”

“I don’t recall.”

“You don’t recall…. How many airports are there in the London area?”

“I believe there’s four.”

“Well, you landed at an airport, I take it?”

“Yes.”

At about 4:45
P.M
., court was suspended for the day after Keefe objected to a line of questioning that was geared toward why Beth Ann Carpenter wouldn’t talk to Scotland Yard officials about Buzz’s death, but was willing to aid in the capture of Haiman Clein.

The first thing Wednesday morning, April 3, 2002, Beth Ann took the stand again. So far, it hadn’t gone all that badly. There were no sudden emotional breakdowns or tirades or controversial bouts of testimony. It was, when it came down to it, her word against, well, just about every witness the state’s attorney’s office had presented to the court.

At first, she continued testifying about her time abroad. Kane wanted the jury to believe that she had left the country to avoid arrest and, later, the death penalty, and Keefe, of course, thought he’d already proved differently.

When Kane began asking her about the context of the phone calls she was receiving from Clein while he was on the run, she again said that she couldn’t “recall.”

“Now, in November of ’95,” Kane asked about twenty minutes into his cross-examination, “end of October, early November, who did you first hear from that Mark Despres was arrested?”

“I don’t recall.”

“You don’t recall?” Kane asked in disbelief. Then he posed the obvious next question, “Was that something that at all was any concern to you about Mark Despres’s being arrested for the murder of your brother-in-law?”

“It was of
some
concern, yes.”

“But not enough…for you to be able to now remember when you first heard he was arrested?”

“I don’t recall….”

Sometime later, Kane asked, “And can you tell us what you
recall
Haiman telling you about a warrant being issued for him?”

“I don’t recall.”

Kane then established that Clein had phoned her most of the time, not the other way around.

“And can you tell us…what he told you?”

“As I said, I don’t recall what he said.”

“You don’t recall what he said?”

“No.”

A bit later, “Okay, what did you say to him…?”

“What did
I
say to
him
?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t recall what I said to him.”

Kane continued to question her about the substance of the phone calls, but she continued to say, over and over, “I don’t recall.” It was odd, many in the gallery said later, that she had a way of recalling issues of no significance and failing to recall issues that could be of help to the jury. For example, Kane wanted to know if she recalled telling Ali, the man she had worked for and lived with in London, that Buzz had been murdered. “I don’t recall.” What about telling Ali about the arrest of Mark Despres? “I don’t recall.”

Throughout the morning, Kane tried to get her to admit that she knew more than she was saying, but she wouldn’t budge. Then he began to talk about Buzz’s kids, Briana and Anson.

“You knew that at the time Buzz was killed, your sister, Kim, was pregnant, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Whenever Kane talked about the investigation portion of the case, asking her what types of questions investigators had asked her early on, she said she didn’t recall.

It was obviously turning into a worthless struggle to get Beth Ann to say anything useful or important. She would talk about insignificant factoids all day long, but when it came down to anything that might shed a negative light on her…“I don’t recall.”

After being on the stand for nearly two days, about six hours of which were under cross-examination, Beth Ann had said “I don’t recall” to Kevin Kane approximately seventy times.

Under Hugh Keefe’s direct questioning, however, she hadn’t uttered the same phrase once.

“It was almost as if two different people were on the stand,” a courtroom observer later said. “One on direct examination who had an excellent memory—and another on cross-examination who had amnesia!”

A hearing took place on Thursday, April 4, 2002, regarding Dr. Robert Novelly, a psychologist whom Keefe wanted to testify about the behaviors of people who suffer from codependency syndrome. According to the defense, Beth Ann had stayed with Clein after she knew he’d had Buzz murdered because she was obsessed with him, and she needed him in her life to make her feel whole.

Kane argued that testimony about the syndrome was not recognized under state law and therefore should not be admitted.

In front of Judge Devlin, without the jury present, Novelly said that Beth Ann “may have” suffered from codependency, but he could not be positive.

Ultimately Judge Devlin said Novelly’s testimony wasn’t relevant and wouldn’t help the jury in reaching its verdict.

Mark Despres was intoxicated with the notion of meddling in the process of justice any way he could. Rumor around the courthouse during the afternoon of April 4 was that Despres, whom Keefe wanted brought in to see if he would testify, was going to “go nuts” once he got into the courtroom. Despres had been acting erratically during the past few years—setting up, many believed, an insanity defense for himself. He had claimed he was psychiatrically impaired and suffered from several mental disorders. At times, he refused to bathe himself and was on a cocktail of medications. Thus far, however, there was little factual proof of his being mentally disturbed.

Dressed in a lime green prison jumper, his hair unwashed and tousled, in shackles, Despres was escorted into the courtroom by prison officials as onlookers and court personnel watched in trepidation. Here was the triggerman. The killer. Not the brains behind the murder, but the muscle. Despres had gained a considerable amount of weight since being incarcerated. He was big, like an out-of-shape WWE wrestler, and could have probably taken down, chained or unchained, anyone in the room he wanted.

There was an early indication that Despres wasn’t going to talk, so Judge Devlin first wanted to know if he was ready and willing to cooperate.

“Would you answer questions about the case truthfully?” Devlin asked.

Despres just stared ahead in silence.

“Let the record reflect,” Devlin said, “that Mr. Despres remained silent.” A few seconds passed. Then, “Do you realize if you do not answer the questions, that the state could consider this a violation of your plea agreement?”

Silence.

Judge Devlin repeated to the court reporter his earlier affirmation. Then, “Do you realize that I would probably allow you to plead the Fifth?”

Silence.

Without incident, Mark Despres was then taken back to his prison cell.

Sometime later, Despres took part in a court-ordered “Competency to Stand Trial Evaluation.” When he was asked where he was born, he answered, “Blue thirteen,” apparently some planet he’d invented. The doctor repeated the question. “From my mother,” Despres then said. No, it was a brother, “Vlad,” he added. “My own last name is Cohen.”

“Do you have a son of your own, Mr. Despres?”

“No, I do not.”

For the past year or so, Despres had had scabs and bruises on his arms and had refused to shower regularly. Scars on his wrists indicated that he’d tried to commit suicide on at least one occasion. When asked about the scabs, Despres said, “Bugs. When they get on me, I rip them off.”

“Did you make the scabs, or did the bugs cut you and make the scabs?”

“Yes.”

Then doctors asked him if he understood that he was facing murder charges. He said he didn’t.

“The victim of the shooting you were involved in, do you know his name?”

“Ronald Reagan.”

“Do you know the role of the defense counsel?”

“To bring me sandwiches.”

“What about the prosecution?”

“To kill everyone.”

“The judge?”

“To make sure you’re dead.”

“Tell us what a plea bargain is, Mr. Despres?”

“A candy bar.”

It was then explained that he should “reconsider his tactic of attempting to fake a mental illness. We’re going to give you another chance to answer our questions. Now, is the judge’s role to oversee the hearing or provide transportation?”

“Provide transportation.”

“Is the sky blue or orange?”

“Orange.”

Despres didn’t want to play ball anymore. And because of his pigheaded belief that he could somehow hoodwink the system, the courts were threatening to revoke his plea bargain—which meant he would have to stand trial for his role in Buzz’s murder.

In the end, doctors concluded that he “intentionally feigned or grossly exaggerated symptoms in an effort to appear seriously impaired.”

The courtroom was packed and people were jockeying for position in the corridors on Tuesday, April 9, as Kane and Keefe gave their closing arguments.

Kane had a simple notion to project to the jury: Despite having “more baggage on him than a Boeing 747 on the way back carrying people from Paris,” Clein should be believed because he didn’t have to admit to half of what he did. He might have been a liar and a cheat, Kane said, but “compare [his testimony] to the manner in which the defendant testified.”

For about thirty minutes, Kane talked about every facet of the case Beth Ann had disputed, going into great detail regarding the state’s contention of motive: the custody battle over Rebecca—which was, when it came down to it, the seed of betrayal and hate.

Referring to Clein as “Mr. Wonderful” throughout much of his closing, Hugh Keefe, like an ex-spouse dealing out insults during divorce proceedings, blasted every aspect of Clein’s credibility. Tara Knight, also contributing to the closing, assailed Beth Ann’s taste in men by saying, “I would like to remind you that she is not on trial for staying with Clein or having bad taste in men. Every one of you,” Knight said, “has stayed in a poor relationship. This is a smear campaign.”

Keefe called Clein a “bum, liar and drughead.”

He proposed: “If Haiman Clein is not credible, then Beth Carpenter is not guilty.”

Was the jury going to believe Haiman Clein or Beth Ann Carpenter?

On April 12, a Friday, nearly a week after the jury was given the case, jury foreman Edwin Perez, as the courtroom sat on edge and a few of the female jurors began to show tears, read that Beth Ann had been found guilty of conspiring to murder her brother-in-law, Anson “Buzz” Clinton.

Beth Ann began to sob quietly. Her family, sitting in back of her, began to gasp in disbelief as one of her relatives let out a rather loud yelp.

As they had maintained throughout the trial, Beth Ann’s family said nothing as they left the court in shock. The Clintons, however, all smiles, stayed and spoke openly about their delight that the mastermind behind their son’s murder was going to pay for her crimes. Yet, at the same time, the conviction added little to the empty space created in their lives since Buzz had been gone.

“Buzz has been vindicated,” Dee Clinton told one reporter. “He was a good, decent human being. He loved his family and his children.”

After Beth Ann’s sentencing date had been postponed once, she finally met her fate on August 2, 2002. Every major newspaper and television station in the state, along with the Associated Press, was in attendance to see what the court was going to hand down to the redheaded lawyer who had captured headlines for the past five years.

Judge Devlin showed little sympathy for Beth Ann Carpenter, saying that if anyone else should’ve known better, it was an officer of the court. Dee, Buck and Suzanne Clinton all spoke on Buzz’s behalf, bringing tears to the eyes of many of Buzz’s relatives in attendance. At one point, Dee even suggested to the judge that a photo of Buzz be placed in Beth Ann’s cell for the entire duration of her sentence.

By far, the most emotional part of the sentencing came when young Billy, Buzz’s little brother, played a videotape he’d made. It was a retrospective of Buzz’s life: high school, home, work, Kim, the kids, even Buzz’s pets. A song by Celine Dion played as the courtroom, judge and Beth Ann, biting her lip and blinking her eyes nervously, looked on as a homemade video depicted a man who was, at least to his immediate family, a caring, loving and unselfish human being who had been struck down just as his life was getting back on track.

Beth Ann’s family continued insisting that Clein had acted alone. Cynthia Carpenter, when it came time for Beth Ann’s family to speak on her behalf, said, “This is a terrible injustice. I pray daily Mr. Clein will come forward with the truth and Beth will come home where she belongs.”

Shocking some, but not surprising others, Keefe introduced several police reports regarding Buzz.

“[These reports] paint a picture,” Keefe argued as he handed the documents to court clerk Cameron MacKenzie, “of emotional abuse, physical abuse, threats of murder, drug abuse and drug trafficking.”

In a sense, Keefe was smearing the memory of a dead man, who couldn’t defend himself against the claims. Later, many outside the courtroom agreed it was blatant misuse of his authority as a lawyer. He was way out of line. Others, however, said it was standard Hugh Keefe practice.

After court, Tara Knight took questions about Keefe’s putting into the record those items that cast a bad light on the victim, saying she and Keefe needed to set the record straight. Buzz wasn’t the “salt of the earth,” Knight suggested. “He was no saint.” The record should reflect that.

Most everyone agreed it was a cheap shot, no matter the reason. Buzz Clinton was never on trial.

In the end, Judge Devlin sentenced Beth Ann to life in prison without the possibility of parole, plus twenty years—the only sentence he could lawfully hand down.

“This case,” the judge commented—clearly dismayed, disappointed and in total disbelief of what had happened—“was about loss of human potential.”

It would take almost six months to the day, but on February 4, 2003, Mark Despres, after fighting with the court over getting rid of his first attorney and obtaining another, even threatening to kill his first attorney at one point, was brought before the court to receive his sentence.

Despres was still unstable and not ready to accept responsibility for his crimes. Writing letters to the court, he would scribble little pictures of devils on the letters, perhaps attempting to seem deranged. It was clear he wanted a diagnosis of mental instability so he could get sentenced to a mental hospital instead of prison. Yet he couldn’t get one doctor to agree.

For a second time, the Clinton family trekked into the courtroom and told the court how much Buzz was loved and missed. Billy Clinton again got to play his video, and Dee, Suzanne and Buck again read impact statements.

Most notably was Buck Clinton’s affirmation that he wasn’t willing to forget or forgive. Buck was a hard man who believed in an “eye for an eye.” In his son’s murder case, however, he wasn’t going to get it. Deals had been made. Lives had been saved. All in the name of nailing, Kevin Kane assured the court, the one person who had masterminded the killing from the beginning: Beth Ann Carpenter.

“I say to this court,” Buck Clinton said in his rugged, emotionally wrought voice, “there is an internal burning hatred for the individuals involved in my son’s murder.”

Esther Lockwood, Despres’s mother, read from a long and seemingly heartfelt letter she had written that explained how Mark had been abused by a father, who left when he was five, and a brother, who had also teased and beat him. She talked about how Mark was good with his hands, with kids, with kittens, and he had even dressed up as Santa Claus at times. But nowhere in the letter did Lockwood ever acknowledge that she had a grandson whom Mark had abandoned, or that Mark was sorry for what he had done.

Before the judge handed down his sentence, Mark Despres got a chance to address the Clintons.

“I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Full of rage, but sitting comfortably with his arm around his daughter, Buck Clinton yelled, “Never happen!”

Regardless of what anyone thought about Despres, Kevin Kane made a valid point when it was his turn to speak.

“He has been manipulative to the point of being treacherous. He has shown no remorse. But if it weren’t for him, no one else would’ve been arrested or convicted.”

The judge ultimately sentenced Despres to forty-five years. He could, under the state’s “truth in sentencing laws,” be back on the street in twenty-two years.

Buzz Clinton had been buried on March 17, 1994, St. Patrick’s Day. After postponing it twice, the court, after discussing it with the Clintons, fittingly set March 17, 2003, as Haiman Clein’s sentencing date.

In the end, character is everything during a trial. From the state’s standpoint, Clein had shown a tremendous amount of acceptance over the years. He stood his ground, even when Keefe brought up aspects of his past that might be construed as vile, evil and disgusting, and perhaps were. But Clein had never claimed to be a priest or a rabbi; he was only saying that, without Beth Ann Carpenter, Buzz Clinton would still be alive.

Now he wanted to be paid back for his willingness to bring Beth Ann down.

The most Clein could receive was forty-five years, same as Despres. Kane, however, argued for a lesser sentence of thirty-five years. Without Haiman Clein, Kane suggested, Beth Ann Carpenter would be free.

The Clinton family, understandably, didn’t agree with all of the legal jargon that had let their son’s killers cut deals for reduced sentences. To them, death sentences for all of those involved in Buzz’s murder would have been too lenient.

“For the truth, Mr. Clein, as a father,” Buck stood before the court and read, “I thank you. But I know the real motive was to save your own hide. I will never forget, nor will I ever forgive.”

Suzanne was a bit more formal and sympathetic.

“In case you didn’t know, Haiman,” she said, staring at Clein as he sat with his head bowed, “I loved my brother more than anyone in this world. He was always there for me.” Then, a bit later, “I want you to remember my family is stronger despite all your actions. Last night, I was finally inspired. I wrote you this poem….”

In the beautifully written piece titled “I Know You Thought You Could Destroy Us, but You Only Made Us Stronger,” Suzanne used the title as a launching pad to tell Clein how she had felt all these years.