Sex, Lies, and Two Hindu Gurus — Telling Their Secrets and Finding My Truth

by Karen Jonson

  For this trial, the lawyers interviewed seventy potential jurors before agreeing on the final panel of twelve.

  The day of jury selection for Prakash was both an ordinary and unusual day at the Hays County courthouse. Ordinary in the sense that the process for choosing the jury proceeded like any other selection procedure for a criminal trial. Unusual because of the defendant—a short, pot-bellied, white-bearded Indian man dressed head-to-toe in orange, navigating the courtroom in a wheelchair.

  Cathy Compton was the first lawyer to question potential jurors. Right away, she identified the defendant for the potential jurers: “He’s the gentleman you see seated here in his chair in the saffron-colored robes. That’s our defendant.”

  Jeff Kearney, lead counsel for defense, ignored the issue of his unusual defendant for the first part of his address to the potential jurors. Then he finally faced the music: “I’d like to know, kind of an unfiltered first response… what did you feel? What was your first thought when you first saw Swamiji rolling in here?”

  Responses varied from thinking he was “a feeble old man” to “a Hindu Santa Claus.”

  His next question addressed the potential for discrimination: “Another thing I’d like to know… has anybody ever had any kind of negative feelings about people from India for any reason?”

  Responses ranged from having good experiences to working with Indian co-workers “who have become close friends.”

  Kearney’s next line of questioning concerned the news coverage about Prakash’s arrest and trial, and the potential unfair bias against his client. He asked, for example: “Who saw the article in this morning’s Austin American-Statesman? Anybody that did, if you will raise your hand tall so that we can see it.”

  Cathy emphasized to the jury the importance of a fair trial: “The goal for everyone here, for myself, for all of the people who work for the State, for all of the people who are here on behalf of the defendant—our goal is all the same, and I hope it’s your goal too—is to be able to say at the end: ‘It was fair. I know that because I was there.’”

  She also wanted to be sure the people who were selected could convict a person of criminal charges with only the witnesses’ testimony as evidence, because in child sex abuse cases there typically is no other evidence. Knowing the defense would jump all over the “lack of evidence” as a reason to dismiss the charges, she told the potential jury members:

  “If you believe the testimony of one witness, the victim witness, beyond a reasonable doubt - and, again, that doesn’t have to be beyond all possible doubt, not to a hundred percent. But if you believe that witness beyond a reasonable doubt, you have to follow the law, and you have to convict. That is the law.

  “Most of these types of cases, you’re only going to hear testimony. That’s it. That’s going to be the case. You’re going to hear testimony. You’re going to have to judge the credibility of the witnesses that you hear from, and you’re going to have to decide what you believe. You’re going to have to decide who’s telling the truth.”

  After each side weeded out potential jurors who appeared biased in any way with regard to the defendant, his religion, his nationality, or the charges against him, they ended up with twelve citizens of Hays County: eight men and four women, with a mix of Hispanic, Black, and White.

  The irony of this was lost to all but a handful of people in the courtroom that day: in Prakash’s mind, not a single person in the courtroom—including Judge Ramsay or his own lawyers—was his peer. For nearly sixty years, he had projected himself as a God in human form and been treated as such by his followers. In Prakash’s view, everyone except his guru, Kripalu, was inferior or subordinate to him.

  Otherwise, he was peerless.

  105

  Day Two

  Backroom Confidential

  WEDNESDAY, 23 FEBRUARY 2011.

  “This is a very simple case—a case about one man and his choices,” said Amy Lockhart, assistant district attorney for Hays County. “This case is simply about what he did, as a man, to two young girls.”

  Thus began the criminal trial of the State of Texas versus Prakashanand Saraswati.

  I wasn’t allowed in the courtroom during the trial because I was a potential witness. Cathy thought it would be good to have an ex-devotee handy in case she needed to refute something incriminating that one of the defense witnesses might claim about ashram life. I had not witnessed the crimes, but I had experienced life in the ashram for fifteen years. That is how I ended up in the tiny windowless witness room with the girls for the first few days of the trial.

  During the time I was in the courthouse, I stayed at Kathi and Wayne’s home, and drove the back roads through the Texas Hill country to the San Marcos courthouse everyday, stopping at Whataburger for coffee and breakfast to go.

  On the first day of the trial, I arrived early—only to discover that the parking lot was already filled with devotees. They were lining up in front of the building to get in. I had no idea how I would feel being around these people, most of whom I had not seen in almost three years. I locked my car, took a deep breath, and walked to the front entrance of the courthouse. As I reached the main doors, I was surrounded by devotees. None of them looked directly at me, but I could sense their furtive glances. I felt nothing. I could just as easily have been in line at a grocery store among people I had never met before. These people, whom I had once known so well, were strangers to me now. I was surprised—but happy—that they no longer had the power to intimidate me.

  Once inside, I met the girls in Cathy’s office. All three of them were dressed beautifully in prim outfits, much more business-like than the clothes they usually wore. But their smart attire could not hide their extreme nervousness. A few minutes before 9:00 a.m., Allison and an armed guard escorted us to the witness room. We walked down a long narrow hallway that opened into a large square space with high ceilings near the courtroom. There were a few chairs along the walls. Another shorter hallway led to the doors of a second courtroom, where Prakash’s trial was about to begin.

  The tiny witness room—made smaller by an overstuffed love seat, a few chairs, two large end tables, a dorm-size refrigerator, and a television—would be the girls’ new home for the next seven days. Allison kept the door open for air circulation. So, we could see everyone going into or coming out of the courtroom.

  The girls could not relax, and sat like wound up springs, ready to explode. The first day was the worst, because they had no idea when they would be called to the courtroom to testify. Cathy had not revealed her trial strategy, and had only said she thought the order would be Vesla, Shyama, then Kate.

  There was no bathroom in the witness room. Rather than risk running into devotees in the public restroom, we used a private bathroom located near the prosecution offices. At about 10:00 a.m., Vesla and Shyama asked Allison to take them to the bathroom. Two minutes later, one of the assistants came in looking for Kate. “Cathy just asked for you in the courtroom.” Kate stood straight up, eyes wide like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

  “Do you want a hug?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said, turning around with a leap. I gave her a quick hug of encouragement. She was stiff, like a soldier called to duty as she marched down the hallway toward the courtroom.

  The girls and Allison returned minutes later. “Where’s Kate?”

  “She was just called into the courtroom,” I said. “She’s the first witness.”

  Kate returned to the witness room at about 11:30 a.m., a bundle of nerves. The worst part now was she could not talk about anything with us.

  Allison had us leave early for lunch so we could beat the devotees out of the building. Kate was so worked up she couldn’t eat. She had to stop for cigarettes, and smoked outside while the rest of us ate lunch.

  She was called back into the courtroom right after lunch, and was inside for the next three hours. To pass the time, I started working on my computer. Shyama and Allison started playing a comput
er game called Angry Birds, which helped pass time and calmed Shyama’s nerves. Vesla sat quietly in one of the overstuffed chairs, lost in thought.

  Later, from the court transcriptions, I read details of the trial proceedings. It began with the two sides making their opening statements, including the prosecution detailing the twenty charges of indecency with children against Prakash. Then Cathy called in Kate.

  The defense was not happy about that, as evidenced by the dialogue between Cathy and the two lead defense lawyers, Jo Angelyn Gates and Jeff Kearney.

  Gates: “We would like an offer of proof as to what Kate Tonnessen is going to testify to and a hearing if there’s going to be any allegations under 404(b). That has not been determined. She is not a victim in this case.”

  Cathy: “Well, Your Honor, we put them on notice, and the law clearly states that if their defense is fabrication that we can bring in other witnesses to talk about his acts with them. And I think clearly, from counsel’s opening, that shows their defense certainly is fabrication.”

  Judge Ramsay: “Defense request is denied.”

  Kearney: “Your Honor -”

  Judge Ramsay: “Proceed.”

  Amy Lockhart interviewed Kate.

  Amy: “Can you tell the jury about the circumstances for the first time he did something to you?”

  Kate: “Yes. I was 14 years old. And as we did every day, we watched him eat his morning meal and his evening meal in a large group. And on this day, he was sitting in a room aside from where he normally did on a large papasan chair. It’s a big, round chair. And all the children always would sit as close as possible to him. And I was sitting to his side, and he grabbed me and pulled me in so I was leaning onto the papasan and him on his lap when, with a whole audience, he somehow was able to - he wrapped his arm around me and put it up my shirt and began pinching my nipples and fondling my breasts. I believed that that - because we were in front of so many people, I mean, I was just shocked. Now, prior to this he had been - he had started kissing me in a more passionate way. He would never - his tongue never penetrated my mouth, but he would kiss me there when - and for prolonged periods of time and rub his - his tongue against my lips.”

  Amy: “Okay. Kate, how old were you when he started doing that?”

  Kate: “12 to 13.”

  Kate then described how she had shut herself in her bedroom for three days in despair after the papasan chair incident, how her mother had read her diary, and how her mother had forced her to go to Prakash to “work things out.”

  Amy: “So you were able to tell Swami Ji how he had made you feel?”

  Kate: “Yes.”

  Amy: “And what did he say to you?”

  Kate: “He said it was a test.”

  106

  Day Three

  Cruella de Ville

  THURSDAY, 24 FEBRUARY 2011.

  According to her biography, Jo Angelyn Gates has a history of getting people off for crimes such as child sex abuse, selling drugs, and first-degree murder.

  My guess, based on Prakash’s trial, is that her defense strategy leans heavily on two tactics: trying to discrediting the prosecution experts by asking for the moon, and using paid “experts” the prosecution to cite ridiculous testimony. Both of her tactics wasted significant amounts of time at Prakash’s criminal trial. No wonder they said they’d need two to three weeks!

  On the third day of the trial, Gates spent most of the day trying to discredit the Hays County Detective, Sgt. Jeri Skrocki, who had recorded the two girls’ initial complaints. Gates stated she wanted to see every bit of training material, including every book Sgt. Skrocki had ever used and every certificate she had ever received: Clearly, an impossible request. She expected Sgt. Skrocki to remember details like the names of the authors of the books she had read to train for her position.

  Just before Sgt. Skrocki left the courtroom at about 2:00 p.m., Shyama was starting to melt down in the witness room. “I can’t do this,” she said.

  I set down my computer and focused all my attention on her, trying to give her strength. “You’ve made it this far, Shyama. Please do not give up now, or you will regret it for the rest of your life. This is your moment. You have to do what you’ve waited three years to do—face your abuser.”

  She was listening intently, but looked like she was barely hanging on. Then Allison said something that jolted her out of her terror: “Draw an angry bird on your hand, so you can look at it in the courtroom.”

  Shyama stood up abruptly. “Yes, that’s what I’m going to do.” Allison handed her a pen and Shyama proceeded to draw a bird on the edge of her hand, smiling as she inked the bird.

  The next morning, we saw Sgt. Skrocki head for the courtroom. She had a single file under her arm. When Gates was finally done with her, she came to the witness room and collapsed into an empty armchair. “What a bitch!”

  “I know, she’s evil,” said Kate.

  “She’s nasty. But I only care that I didn’t say anything to blow it for the girls.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel too,” said Kate.

  Meanwhile, Shyama was now in the courtroom being questioned by Cathy. Gates made many objections, including any mention of Kripalu Maharaj—even though the news of his rape charges was what initially motivated the girls to speak out about their own abuse.

  Cathy: “When was it - and, you know, if you can’t remember a specific date, it’s okay. But - well, let me ask you this: why did you finally decide that you were going to come and talk to the police about what this man did to you?”

  Shyama: “I read a news article.”

  Gates: “Objection, Your Honor, to any hearsay in the news article.”

  Judge Ramsay: “Overrule the objection.”

  Gates then objected when Cathy addressed the defense’s claim that the girls had hatched a plot against Prakash.

  Cathy: “Okay. So this wasn’t some kind of plan that y’all hatched to somehow hurt this defendant or Barsana Dham or any of these people sitting around here.”

  Shyama: “No. It was not at all. We all came to the decision on our own. I came to the decision on my own.”

  Gates: “Your Honor, objection with regard to any other people’s decisions.”

  Judge Ramsay: “Sustain the objection.”

  Shyama: “I came to the decision on my own with no input from anyone else.”

  Then Shyama described her incidents of sexual assault, beginning with the first one.

  Shyama: “We were in the kitchen, and he was fixing my sari because at the time I was - saris are generally meant for adults. And I’m - I’m petite, and I’ve always been petite. And I’ve always been too small - or was, at the time, too small to wear one. So it wasn’t fitting correctly. And he was adjusting it to make - they were - him and Rajana, who is also named Vishwambari, who’s not in this room - she was standing behind me, and he was standing in front of me. And I wasn’t very developed at the time, but he was adjusting my sari, pulling it across my chest and was more than just pulling it across my chest. He was openhandedly groping my breasts at the time. But there - I mean, there wasn’t much there to grope, but he was still touching me in a very sexual manner across my breasts, squeezing and massaging.”

  Shyama returned from the witness room just after 5:00 p.m.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  She sat up straight and strong in her chair: “I’m not afraid of that bitch.”

  Gates had the unusual habit of wearing short skirts with slits up the back in the courtroom, revealing the lacy top edge of her thigh-high stockings. She also wore spiked high heels that clicked when she walked, so you always knew when she was coming.

  Her style and attitude reminded me of the cartoon character Cruella De Ville—the wicked witch who likes to kill puppies in the Disney movie, 101 Dalmatians.

  107

  Day Four

  The “Hotshot” Cult Lawyer

  FRIDAY, 25 FEBRUARY 2011.

  When I first heard Prak
ash had hired a new lead defense attorney, I Googled him, only to learn that Jeff Kearney had a history of working with cults.

  In fact, according to one article, one case in particular established him as a “hot shot” lawyer. He was defending a member of the Branch Davidian cult: One of the eleven Davidians charged with conspiracy to murder the four federal agents who died in 1993 during a raid on the religious compound in Waco, Texas. His client was acquitted of murder, but found guilty on gun charges.

  In late 2010, Kearney was hired by the infamous Warren Jeffs, leader of a polygamous fundamentalist branch of the Mormon religion, known as FLDS. Jeffs had established a 2,000-acre guarded compound in Eldorado, Texas, which was raided by federal marshals in 2008, not long before Prakash’s arrest. The raid received international attention, due primarily to the fact that over 200 children had been removed from the complex.

  On 1 February 2010, Examiner.com reported the following:

  “Jeff Kearney, high-profile Texas defense attorney, strode into the courtroom Tuesday with Warren Jeffs to announce he was taking over the defense. Kearney was successful in persuading a jury to find one of the Branch Davidians not guilty of murder in a case, which increased his national reputation. He has had several other well known victories in courtrooms across the country.”

  I assume Kearney’s experience with other notorious religious organizations is what prompted Barsana Dham to hire him. But in this unusual case, Kearney seemed to be “all hat and no cattle,” as they say in Texas.

  The day began with Amy continuing her direct examination of Shyama. Then it was Gates’ turn for cross-examination. During Shyama’s morning testimony, the defense introduced numerous photographs of Shyama dancing and performing in special events at Barsana Dham. Gates used the photos to push one issue: If Shyama had been abused, as she had claimed, why had she returned to Barsana Dham to participate in these events?

  However, they could not nail down the actual dates of the events pictured, which allowed for the possibility that Shyama was still under eighteen and still living in Barsana Dham in all of the photos. In the end, the defense’s long, tedious introduction of “photo evidence” amounted to nothing more than a complete waste of time.