No, Daddy, Don't! (26 page)
Authors: Irene Pence
The spectators hurried to their seats and sat quietly waiting for the judge’s announcement. She glanced over the document from the jury foreman and told John Battaglia to stand. His lawyers stood with him.
Reading from the jury’s decision, Judge Warder said, “John Battaglia, the jury has found you guilty of capital murder.”
The punishment phase would begin the following day.
F
ORTY-FIVE
ORTY-FIVE
Professor Michelle Ghetti walked quickly to the stand, looking poised and accustomed to being in front of a group of people. Her chin-length blond hair complemented her yellow linen dress and she looked much younger than her forty-eight years. When she spoke today, her words would be more emotional than when she addressed her law students at Southern University. She gave her impressive credentials, mentioning that she had drafted several abuse laws.
The pretty woman described her turbulent life with John Battaglia. She highlighted John’s explosions—throwing Billy against the wall, hitting her with his cast-covered fist as she held Laurie—as well as all the trauma he’d inflicted after she divorced him.
With great detail, she described her six-year ordeal with John Battaglia.
Paul Johnson objected, and the jury was excused. “Michelle is giving a narrative that is beyond what the state said they would ask,” Johnson said.
Blackmon fired back. “What is this? All of a sudden you’re surprised? You’ve known this information for months.”
Judge Warder told Blackmon to ask questions and let the witness respond without letting her give a monologue.
The jury was brought back, and Michelle continued to tell about the stalking, the threats, the beatings, and the frequent surveillance. She explained that she was constantly scared. Her stomach was always in knots.
She described the final beating in which he’d broken her nose and dislocated her jaw. Jury members either grimaced or shook their heads at the details. A photograph of her beaten and swollen face was entered into evidence. She testified that the only way she could save her life was to flee to Baton Rouge.
Paul Johnson stood to cross-examine. “You were pregnant when you married John Battaglia. Isn’t that right?”
“I was,” Michelle replied, embarrassed.
“Were you wondering whether or not to marry John?”
“Yes. My mother thought I should marry him.”
“A marriage of convenience?” Johnson asked.
“We were married when I was two months pregnant.”
“Before your marriage, you saw no physical violence?” Johnson asked.
“No, but I knew John was high-strung. A fast talker. I never saw him depressed. Even when he apologized for abusing me, he was high-strung. He was paranoid. Thought people were after him. He thought police were after him.” Then, as a second thought, she added, “And they were.”
Although her testimony was serious, laughter rippled through the courtroom.
“What changes did you see in his personality?”
“I could see anger in his face. His temperament would change.”
Michelle told the defense attorney about John’s hostility and how he panicked. He would fight, then flee.
“You’re describing a person who changes personalities,” Johnson said.
Michelle refused to agree with him, and the jury was excused for a second time.
“The witness is biased and is trying to step back from earlier statements,” Johnson complained to the judge. “At one time she quoted John as saying, ‘When I get like that, I don’t know what I’m doing.’
“She knows what the defense approach will be and she’s skewing her testimony to fit the state’s position,” Johnson said.
The jury returned.
Michelle said, “I don’t know anyone else who does terrible things and then doesn’t remember. I don’t know if he can’t remember or he says that to get out of trouble.”
After the prosecution concluded itemizing the numerous ways John had violated his protective order, Johnson was still trying to get Michelle to admit that John had suffered from depression.
“I remember that he had never missed a day of work.” Michelle said. “He had no trouble sleeping. I can’t say that I ever saw him depressed.”
The state rested in the punishment phase, and the court adjourned.
On Thursday, the defense began to make up for their lack of witnesses during the trial phase. Paul Johnson called James Jones to the stand. He owned a framing shop near Battaglia’s accounting business. He thought that John was a fabulous dad, taking his kids back and forth from ice-skating and soccer. He told the jury he’d be hard-pressed to find a man as devoted as John was to his kids. Many times John had brought the children into his store to see the parrots he had there, and Jones had ample time to view how considerate and caring John was with his girls.
He first saw John depressed around the time of his divorce. John had dropped by the frame shop on the afternoon of the murders and claimed that Mary Jean was going to have him put in jail. He had never seen John so emotionally drained or more depressed.
Vida Hughes, a bookkeeper, also worked in the same building as John Battaglia. Hughes told the defense attorney about frequently chatting with Battaglia and seeing him with his daughters. She thought he was a wonderful, loving, and caring father. His children were his life. Her office was next to John’s, and she would frequently hear his loud conversations with Mary Jean. She assumed he was having a difficult time trying to see his daughters. She said that these calls always depressed him.
At some risk, Paul Johnson recalled a hostile witness, Mary Jean Pearle, to the stand. Her tan suit and animal-print blouse were less severe than the dark outfit she had worn for her earlier testimony.
Johnson accused Mary Jean of doing everything she could to see that John got the death penalty.
“I don’t feel that it is up to me. I’m leaving his fate to the hands of God and the jury.”
“Isn’t it true that your father was accused of murder?”
Mary Jean looked startled and said, “No. That’s not correct!”
Johnson, holding notes as he stood, read, “Gene Pearle was accused of killing a man at 3601 Dickason on August second, 1982,” Johnson said.
“He was no-billed for killing a burglar at that address,” Mary Jean replied.
Judge Warder sent the jury from the room so she could discuss the charge. She let the police report stand as part of the record, but she disallowed the question because it was irrelevant and prejudicial to the jury.
Blackmon turned to Johnson and said that the question was improper. Johnson replied that it happened to be true. They began raising their voices, talking over one another. Suddenly, the judge rapped her gavel, and in her loudest voice of the trial cried, “Counsel!”
The court reporter could not take notes with three voices on top of each other and yelled, “Shut up!”
It was like a gun had blasted in the room. The following silence was deafening.
After the court had settled down, the jury returned.
Paul Johnson asked Mary Jean about her depression after the death of her father. Mary Jean told about being bedridden for four weeks and going into counseling. She had been on Zoloft ever since.
“So you agree that some mental illnesses can be treated with medication?”
With some hesitation, she acknowledged that it was possible.
John Battaglia listened nervously, chomping his gum and chewing faster and faster as his attorney hammered away at Mary Jean. It was the most emotion he had shown during the entire trial.
Mary Jean refused to say that John suffered from depression, stating that she had never seen him in any condition that was similar to hers when she had been depressed.
Psychiatrist Dr. Jay Crowder, director of forensic psychiatry at the University of Virginia, was the first expert witness called by the defense.
He had interviewed John Battaglia three times for a total of six hours and forty minutes. He had determined that John had an immature personality and was a substance abuser, which heightened his bipolar mood disorder. He classified the bipolar as “type one,” which is a severe mental illness.
“John is sensitive to rejection by women ever since his mother’s suicide,” the doctor said. “Coupled with that, the prospect of going to jail made him feel persecuted.”
The doctor felt that Battaglia wouldn’t have killed his daughters if he had been medically treated.
“Are you telling this jury that John Battaglia had no choice in this murder?” Blackmon asked on cross-examination.
“I am saying that his bipolar disorder facilitated his murdering his children.”
Paul Johnson asked if John would be a future danger.
“Improbable,” the doctor replied. “His year in jail produced no bad acts. We took him off of medication in October just to see what would happen. After he was drug-free, we did some psychological tests. Mr. Battaglia was mostly depressed, but he did have some periods of euphoria.”
The prosecution wanted to depict the doctor as biased, so Blackmon asked, “Isn’t it rare for you to consult on behalf of the prosecution?”
“I have never testified for the State on a capital murder case,” he replied.
The next witness for the defense raised her hand to be sworn in. Dr. Judi Stonedale was a pretty woman with thick red hair who didn’t look like she had spent five years as a prison psychiatrist. She was young, and this was only the second trial in which she testified as an expert witness.
She had spent a total of eight hours testing and talking with John Battaglia over three sessions. Occasionally glancing over at John, she testified that from the tests and interviews she had determined that he had a long-standing bipolar disorder characterized by hyperactivity followed by depression. She pronounced his condition as “one of the clearest cases I’ve ever seen.” The first time she had talked with John, he was so manic that he was “bouncing off the walls.” But once he was medicated, he could focus.
“He knew what he was doing when he killed his children,” she said, “but he was acting under a delusion that he was protecting them from reliving his problems.”
On cross-examination, Howard Blackmon asked, “Could John have an antisocial personality or be a sociopath as opposed to suffering from mental illness?”
“His history didn’t indicate that he lacked a conscience.”
“Could the defendant just be a plain mean, vindictive-type person and that’s why he killed his children?” Blackmon asked.
“Of course he could,” the doctor replied, “but that isn’t my belief.”
Blackmon asked Dr. Stonedale about John calling his ex-wife Michelle Ghetti and leaving a message that Mary Jean should lose her children.
“There’s no proof that he ever called Michelle,” the doctor said.
“Is it possible you could be mistaken in your diagnosis ?” Blackmon asked.
Dr. Stonedale teared up and became defensive. “Of course, I’m not God,” she whined. “I could make a mistake.” But she reasserted her belief that Battaglia should be given a life sentence and not be sent to his death.
Judge Warder had hired Dr. Edward Gripon, a forensic psychiatrist from Beaumont, Texas, at the request of the prosecution to examine John Battaglia. On Friday, the older gray-haired man strode into the courtroom with confidence. He looked comfortable in court, having interviewed 8,000 people to determine their competency to stand trial.
After giving his distinguished credentials, he recounted his three-hour interview with John Battaglia. He spoke in a confident, relaxed manner and frequently made eye contact with the jury when he explained various points. He stated that John had described his mood swings of ecstasy and despondency. Upon further examination Dr. Gripon had determined that Mr. Battaglia had a long history of mood swings consistent with a bipolar disorder. With proper medication, the doctor felt Battaglia would be at a very low risk of committing criminal acts of violence in prison.
It was a crushing blow for the prosecution, as they had first asked for the highly respected doctor. Now he was testifying for the defense. The man was convincing ; he spoke rapidly—facts on the tip of his tongue—and never had to grope for a word.
The doctor admitted that Battaglia was legally sane when he killed his children, but agreed with Dr. Stonedale that his was a classic case of bipolar disorder, possibly inherited from his mother. Dr. Gripon also leaned away from the antisocial personality aspect, saying that the Marine Corps is anathema to a person with that type of personality.
Dr. Gripon said, “My examinations suggest that Mr. Battaglia’s violence almost always sprang from dysfunctional relationships with his wives . . . so with the removal of the victim pool, the [crime] would not likely occur again.”
He said that it would be “simplistic” to suggest that Battaglia had murdered his daughters to get back at Ms. Pearle. He thought it was far more complicated than revenge, for John too lost his daughters.
Howard Blackmon asked, “Did you know that John Battaglia threatened his brother with a gun in 1975, and later pulled a gun on a car full of kids in Louisiana?”
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