A Deadly Game

by Catherine Crier

Pat Harris stepped up first for the defense. He had taken the lead in this stage of the case and would begin the plea for Scott’s life. He had to address the apparent Jekyll and Hyde that had been portrayed throughout the trial.

  “Every single [defense witness] says ‘respectful, generous.’ You’re going to have to make the decision: Was it phony? Was it made up? As a twelve-year-old, a fourteen-year-old, he was fooling all these people? Or are these character traits that he truly does have?”

  “This is a person who’s continually helped people,” he told the jury. “This is an opportunity to salvage something positive out of a life that’s virtually gone now.

  “I wish there was a phrase I could give you that would turn this around, make you believe that there is good in this person . . . this is not a monster. I don’t have that phrase; I don’t have the ability to do it . . . that’s up to you.”

  Maybe Mark Geragos had the magic to sway the panel. Could he find that phrase that would turn things around? He began with an apology. “I have nightmares about this case. I feel like I let my client down, feel like I let the family down, feel like I let you down, for not being able to convince you. .. . I say that as kind of a confession to start off with, because I’ll also . . . tell you the truth. I did not prepare a penalty phase. I did not do it. The day the verdict came down, I was in another courtroom, and I did not expect that you guys were coming back that day. I apologize for that; I want you to know that was not meant as any sign of disrespect. I also want you to know that part of the reason you were cooling your heels for two weeks was so I could go out and find mitigating witnesses.”

  I listened, somewhat shocked. Was Geragos trying to inject an appellate point on ineffective assistance of counsel? Was he setting him-self up as the fall guy to win Scott a new trial? I knew that Judge Delucchi had given him ample time to prepare during that two-week break, but this “admission” was astounding. Geragos also chose phrasing that was unflattering to Scott, stressing that he had to “go out and find mitigating witnesses.” After all, they certainly had not rallied behind Scott throughout the trial. Anne Bird later told me that several family members who testified had been pressured to do so. And while childhood and college friends, an old principal and a golf coach joined the chorus, where were the people Scott seemed close to when all of this occurred? Where were Heather and Mike Richardson, the couple he called and visited repeatedly during the search for Laci? Where was his good friend Guy Miligi, or his fishing buddy, Greg Reed?

  Nevertheless, Geragos pressed on. “You may consider lingering doubt as a factor in mitigation . . . that state of mind between beyond a reasonable doubt and all possible doubt . . . that lingering doubt alone may be enough to spare his life.

  “Somebody said that life without parole would be, to them, worse than death. Understand what it is. . . . Prison is an awful, awful place. . . . Scott would be placed in a cell roughly the size of a king-size bed for the rest of his life; he will die in that cell. He will have a bed, and a cold metal toilet. And he will stay in that cell every single day until he dies.”

  “The State is asking you to be the one who sanctifies the death. There’s no reason to have any more death. . . . All that’s being asked of you is to punish him with life without parole. .. . To kill him at this point serves absolutely no purpose. All I’m asking you to do is hang on and vote for life.”

  Geragos knew that in California, if the jury was deadlocked in the penalty phase of the trial, the district attorney could seat another jury and again pursue the death penalty. But he might hope that a hung jury in Redwood might convince prosecutors to agree to a life sentence.

  However, that was not to be. After eight hours and twenty-three minutes over a three-day period, the jury returned a unanimous verdict—death for Scott Peterson.

  As the decision was read, Scott did not shed a tear. Seated with his attorneys he remained cold and impassive, as he had throughout the trial. His family behind him remained silent. Only Sharon Rocha’s gentle sobs broke the hush.

  Several people in the courtroom noticed when Ron Grantski turned to Lee Peterson and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  “Fuck you,” the elder Peterson mouthed back.

  Following the decision, jurors went to a room in the courthouse where three of them agreed to speak to the press. The media was impressed by their candor, their honesty, and their obvious commitment to a fair trial for Scott Peterson. All twelve had agreed that innocent until proven guilty was their mantra throughout the process. They also agreed that the totality of the evidence was overwhelming. As difficult as it was, each believed their decision was the right one.

  “I think the Sharon Rocha testimony was probably the most . . . not even probably. For me, |it was] definitely the most moving testimony of the penalty phase,” said jury foreman Steve Cardosi. “She said things in there that I will never forget, such as Laci doesn’t have arms to hold her baby. Laci got motion sickness, and Scott placed her in basically a watery grave. She’s going to be seasick for eternity. I will never forget those things. My heart goes out to her.”

  “I don’t know why the trial has attracted so much publicity,” juror Richelle Nice said. “I don’t even know why I got so connected to it. But I will forever feel a connection with Laci and with the two families Scott tore apart for no good reason.”

  Ah, but Scott Peterson felt he had a very good reason. It was the most important reason in the world—himself. In his mind, he was that charming, romantic, world-traveling playboy. His should have been a life filled with champagne and strawberries, not lawn mowers and diapers. He was determined to remain on the pedestal that he occupied for so long as a boy.

  What right did Laci have to demand that he become a responsible father.’ Yet, strong-willed, and decisive, she had clearly become the boss in their family. He was never going to be the provider she wanted, and he didn’t intend to face that reality. He knew he was “real smart,” and he felt shouldn’t have to prove it to anyone. He should be admired simply for being Scott.

  Whatever his rationale, onlookers were left wondering: Why didn’t we ever see any strain, or fear or anguish, throughout this or-deal? We didn’t see these reactions because they didn’t exist. To exhibit worry, concern, or grief for someone you care about, you have to be able to feel love. To express shame, guilt, or fear, you have to believe there are moral or legal rules that apply to you. Psychiatrists know that sociopaths, contrary to expectations, are often very calm, easygoing, and relaxed in times of intense pressure or grief, because they do not feel what others are feeling. Remember the testimony: Scott never got upset, not as a kid, not playing golf and not over his missing wife and child.

  What tears we saw from Scott Peterson, I believe, were shed either as an effort to manipulate others, or for himself.

  Scott firmly believed that he could win this deadly game. He planned his crime carefully. As a pathological liar, he had his delivery down pat. He had fooled so many for so long that he must have assumed a few cops and reporters would be easy. He knew the masses would grieve right along with this handsome young husband who’d “lost” his wife.

  Unfortunately, another characteristic of the sociopath is an inability to develop realistic long-term plans. Scott was never able to see past late January, when he thought the search would end. He would return to wooing Amber, the naive, admiring young mother. Unable to accept responsibility for his actions, and free from the moral and legal limits that most of us recognize, he could not imagine an outcome other than complete freedom. On the day of his ar-rest, he played gleefully with the cops that pursued him. In his first days behind bars, he wrote Amber and Anne Bird about all the “good” things he would do when released.

  On January 16, when Sharon Rocha and Ron Granski begged Scott to tell them where to find their beloved daughter, he never denied his involvement. He only repeated that he, too, wanted her back. Yet he made one comment that stood out in my mind.

  “My world is done without Laci and my
child.”

  With those words, Scott intended another lie. Instead, he may have delivered his own epitaph.

  EPILOGUE

  As this book goes to press, Scott Peterson remains ensconced in the Stanislaus County Jail, awaiting his formal sentencing by Judge Delucchi on March 11, 2005. The judge is not mandated to impose the jury’s recommendation of death, and could impose a life sentence instead. However, it is very unlikely he will substitute his own judgment for theirs. In this event, Scott will move to death row at the infamous San Quentin prison, to join three other inmates who murdered their pregnant wives.

  While Amber Frey had a book on the stands by January 5, 2005, Sharon Rocha has stepped back from the public eye. However, the Rocha family has filed a civil lawsuit against Scott, seeking a multimillion-dollar judgment for the wrongful death of Laci Peterson. A judgment in their favor is virtually assured. I doubt they expect to collect a dime, but the judgment would remain on file in the event Scott ever tried to profit from the crime.

  As of this date, Mark Geragos continues to represent Scott. I do not believe any lawyer or firm involved in a death penalty trial should undertake the appeal. These entities have a vested interest in the outcome and would be reviewing the record, in part, for their own mistakes. An appeal, ideally, is an opportunity for a fresh, independent appellate expert to examme the transcript for possible errors. I expect that Scott’s representation will change after the defendant’s motion for a new trial is denied by Judge Delucchi.

  In the meantime, Geragos is soliciting “investigative” funds to find the “real killer” and free Scott. A message posted on Geragos’s website reads: “For Scott to get the justice he deserves, the investigation must continue. Unfortunately, this does not come without a price. ... ” and then gives an office address. This is certainly a page from the Simpson playbook—although the last time I interviewed O. J., he readily admitted that he was doing nothing to “find the real killer.”

  When the publicity dies down, I suspect this Web page will disappear. In January 2005, I was contacted by a seventeen-year-old from North Dakota who believes that Scott Peterson is his father. While his mother is deceased, he says that friends and relatives have dropped a few intriguing hints about a one-night rendezvous in San Diego. He began his quest by contacting Scott’s half sister, Anne Bird, who forwarded the letter to Jackie and Scott.

  When I sat down to interview Anne, she showed me Scott’s response to the boy’s plea, written from jail on January 9. In responding to the letter, Scott writes: “What a weird ass letter you received.” He never denies the allegations, and adds only one more line, asking, “Why would someone do such a thing.” Sound familiar? He moves on to more mundane matters for a few short lines, then closes.

  Scott may spend the rest of his life on death row. The appeal process is arduous, and death penalty politics may be shifting. Nevertheless, through all those remaining days, his world will be limited to a tiny cell, a TV, and limited contact from the outside world. Maybe he can relive those fairytales about his adventures in Paris.

  Should Scott Peterson have received the death penalty? I under-stand how the jury reached its conclusion. The crime was monstrous. The pictures of Laci and Conner when they washed ashore will linger in the minds of those people forever. Scott’s cold, callous behavior throughout the case helped seal his fate. By the end of this trial, he was reviled, justifiably, by everyone on that jury. Had Scott appeared more emotional, less calculating—indeed, had he taken the stand during the penalty phase—I believe his life would have been spared.

  Frighteningly, pregnant women are murdered all too often. For sheer cruelty, few crimes exceed the murder of one’s own wife and unborn child. Yet it is also my conviction that the death penalty should not be treated lightly—that we should take care to enforce some sort of continuum when these penalties are assessed. The crime of murder is a violent, evil act. In no way does this lessen the impact of Laci and Conner’s deaths, but is it right to punish a Scott Peterson in the same way that we punish the most egregious murderers of all—the predators, the terrorists, the serial killers?

  My own thoughts about the death penalty have evolved since I joined the Dallas County District Attorney’s Office in 1978. When I arrived there, I was a proponent of capital punishment. I left in serious opposition to it. I was witness to the Randall Dale Adams case, which gave rise to Errol Morris’s documentary The Thin Blue Line. Three times this man was convicted of capital murder before the truth was discovered and he was exonerated. One of the last capital cases I saw tried before I left the district attorney’s office was that of Joyce Ann Brown. One very certain eyewitness watched this woman gun down her husband in their fur salon. Only it was not Ms. Brown, as was discovered by accident when another woman was arrested in New Mexico and confessed to the crime nine years later. Had this not occurred, Joyce would have joined other innocent people on death row.

  Certainly most prisoners who have been executed were guilty, but not all of them. I concede that, for many, the moral/religious maxim “an eye for an eye” is not open to debate. Those who firmly believe in this justification for capital punishment are perfectly justified in that conviction.

  As a pragmatist, however, I would also point to some other, less emotional considerations. It costs more to try a death penalty case through to execution than it does to house an inmate the rest of his or her life. Studies show that the death penalty is no deterrent to anyone but the person w ho is ultimately executed. The states that carry out executions most frequently are also the most violent in the country. Remember, as well, that human beings are fallible creatures. We can never make the criminal justice system foolproof. Intentionally or not, people will make mistakes, and forensic science is a tool, not a guarantee.

  Personally, I consider life without parole to be much more severe than simply going to sleep on a gurney. Over a decade ago, I inter-viewed Charles Walker, the first man to be put to death in Illinois after the state reinstated its death penalty statute. (The state has since enacted a moratorium on executions, after discovering a large number of cases where inmates were falsely convicted through prosecutorial or law enforcement misconduct. Some of these people were clearly innocent.) Walker told me that he was ready to die because he could no longer stand to look at the shadows of the bars on the wall. He wanted to be put out of his misery.

  The nation remains deeply divided over this issue. However, many people moderate their stance if assured that life without parole really means that the inmate will never again walk the streets. If we lock a killer away for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and simply throw away the key, I believe that justice has been served.

  As for Scott Peterson, whatever the court decides, we can be certain of one thing. He will live in an earthly hell for the rest of his life.

  APPENDIX

  From The State of California v. Scott Peterson:

  THE UNSEEN EVIDENCE FILES

  Janet Use, holding the twelve dozen roses Scott Peterson brought her on their first date. She later gave this photo to police as evidence of their relationship.

  Scott with McKenzie, the dog Laci gave him before they were married. He often brought McKenzie along on his dates with Janet.

  Scott (above, at right) and Laci (below, center) with friends

  Scott and Laci as a young couple

  Scott with Amber Frey at the holiday party, December 14, 2002. Inset: The Star 1 heater 2 home planetarium Scott gave Amber as a Christmas present.

  The Berkeley Marina, where Scott launched his fishing trip on December 24

  The paper trail: Scott’s bill of sale for the Sears Gamefisher boat, and Laci Peterson’s jewelry repair receipt (inset).

  Scott at the New Year’s Eve vigil

  Scott’s green Ford 4x4, which he used to drive to the marina

  The bloodstain found on the interior door, later determined to be Scott’s

  A photo of Scott and Laci found at their home by police
/>   The pool in the Petersons’ backyard

  Images from the Petersons home; T.he living room (above) and kitchen (below)

  Above: Laci loved to entertain, as the cookbooks on her shelf (including two by Martha Stewart) attest. Below: The French toast recipe Laci was planning on serving tor Christmas brunch.

  Twin bathrobes in the Petersons’ home

  Children’s books (above) and books on pregnancy and motherhood, found in the Petersons’ home, suggest how excited Laci was about having her first child.

  Evidence photos taken at the Petersons’ home, including the blue tarp (#41) and McKenzie’s leash (#48)

  A forensic investigators worksheet detailing the bloodstains found on the Petersons’ duvet cover. The symbol (+) indicates a positive finding for blood.

  A worksheet detailing the investigators’ write-up of Scott’s boat

  The rear of Scott’s rental truck, also examined for evidence

  Above.The needle-nosed pliers recovered from Scott’s boat at the warehouse. These contained a hair consistent with Laci’s, one of the few pieces of forensic evidence in the case.

  Below: The Llama .22 caliber handgun police found in his glove compartment.

  Cell-tower information allowed the prosecution to map out Scott’s travels for the jury. As the call transcript indicates, on January 11 he called his mother from Berkeley while pretending to be in “west Fresno” {opposite).

  As this exhibit shows, Scott also called real estate agent Brian Argain repeatedly to inquire about putting his house on the market—only a few weeks after Laci disappeared.