Fourteen pages of the transcript were taken up by Joseph Fowler chatting with the witness about her background, her family, her education, her hobbies. His purpose was to show her as a reliable, intelligent woman with no axe to grind. She was here to do her civic duty. Fowler introduced photographs and a drawing, then asked her to show the jury where she had been sitting and to estimate distances. She didn't have to estimate. She had used a tape measure. She had also reenacted her observations with a stopwatch.
Her responses were direct and simple. Looking out the window for her ride to the airport, she had noticed a young man with long brown hair, wearing a denim jacket, standing near the hedge across the street. He came around the hedge, looked over his shoulder, then walked quickly behind the Dodsons' house. She never left the window. Her friend arrived and tooted the horn, and she had to go. It was 10:12. "I should have called Amber to alert her. I feel so bad."
"Mrs. Chastain, you have testified that you saw a man going behind Amber's house at approximately five minutes past ten."
"At exactly five minutes past ten."
"Exactly. Did you see that same man at a later time?"
"Yes, I did."
"Where and when was that?"
"I saw him on Wednesday, the fifteenth of February, at the sheriffs office."
"Under what circumstances?"
"Detective Kemp asked me to view a lineup. I picked him out."
"And were you certain, when you picked the man out of the lineup, that he was the same man you had seen going behind the victim's house?"
"Absolutely certain."
"Do you see the same man here in the courtroom today?"
"Yes, I do."
"Can you point him out to the jurors?"
"Right over there. The young man in the dark blue suit."
The prosecutor must have allowed the jury sufficient time to follow the imaginary line that ran from the witness's extended finger directly to the defendant, who had been told by his counsel not to look away when this occurred. But what did the jurors read into that cool, unwavering stare?
"Let the record reflect that the witness has indicated the defendant, Kenneth Ray Clark. Thank you, Mrs. Chastain. I have no further questions."
Meadows rose from his chair and took his notes to the lectern. The difficulty of his task must have weighed heavily: impugning the veracity of an honest, well-meaning citizen. "Mrs. Chastain, you described the man to the police one way in your initial statement, and then you pick out a man who looks different. I don't say you're lying. I suggest that you are mistaken. The truth is, you just can't be sure. Isn't that true?"
"No, I'm very sure. There is no doubt in my mind."
"Isn't it true, Mrs. Chastain, that you never saw my client actually enter the house?"
"Yes, that's true."
Meadows's reference to "my client" was a misstep that he quickly tried to correct. "And isn't it also true that this person—whoever he was—could have gone over the fence and never entered the house at all? You wouldn't have seen this, would you?"
"No. All I saw was him going behind the house."
Meadows tried to shake her memory, but she held fast. His extended attack, and her calm rebuttals, served only to reinforce her credibility as an impartial observer of the facts.
Week two began with Dr. George Snyder, the medical examiner. The judge had allowed into evidence only a few of the autopsy photographs, taken after the body had been cleaned. Their only purpose, he said, was to prove that she had been stabbed. When the photographs made their way down the jury box, someone was heard to mutter, "Oh, Jesus." One of the women began to cry.
The ME testified that the defendant's knife, with a serration near the top of the six-inch blade, was "not inconsistent with" and "could have inflicted" the injuries.
"But, Dr. Snyder, the deepest cuts on the body are only five inches deep. The murder weapon could have been some other knife entirely. Isn't that true?"
"It's possible, but a six-inch blade entering the body at an angle would penetrate less than six inches."
"Doctor, you stated in the autopsy report that the cuts are smooth. Are you saying that a serrated knife would make smooth cuts?"
"What I said, counselor, was that the extensive lacerations make it impossible to say precisely what kind of knife was used."
Switching directions, Meadows probed at the time of death, probably hoping to show that even if Kenny Ray Clark had walked through the Dodsons' yard, the victim could have died earlier or later. He waved Snyder's own report at him, in which the ME had estimated that death had occurred between ten and two. However, the jurors could not have forgotten Kemp's testimony about the clock that had stopped at 10:23.
The state did not consider it worthwhile splitting hairs over time of death. They had physical evidence tying the defendant to the scene. They had the defendant's statement to his cell mate. They had his lies to the police. They had an eyewitness. And they had the bereaved husband, who had found his wife's mutilated body.
Gary Dodson's answers were hesitant and short, as though he could not bear to relive the experience. Halfway through his testimony the judge asked if he needed a recess. Dodson said no, he could go on. To establish the identification of the victim, Joe Fowler showed him one of the autopsy photos.
"Yes. That's her. My wife. Oh, God. Amber. Amber."
The Palm Beach Post reported that weeping could be heard throughout the courtroom. Meadows rose only long enough to say he had no questions of the witness.
After Dodson had made his way out of the courtroom, Joseph Fowler announced, "The state rests."
"Que comemierda. Meadows was afraid of alienating the jury! I would have asked for a recess so Dodson could blow his nose, then I would have taken him apart."
"Too bad you weren't there."
"Yes, there would have been an acquittal, and this very weekend, we would be in my bed, not on our way to a hotel room."
Meadows had a dilemma: whether to put his client on the stand. His client demanded to testify. Kenny wanted to swear he had never confessed to his cell mate; that he had left the Hopwoods' trailer at ten o'clock; that he didn't own a denim jacket; that his statements to the police had not been lies but faulty recollection. That he hadn't done it. However, Meadows knew that Joe Fowler was as dangerous as Kenny Clark was impetuous and unaware. It would be a disaster. Meadows persuaded his client to remain silent and allow his friend Lougie Jackson to establish his alibi.
Jackson was a friend from high school who had moved to Port St. Lucie, just across the county line. He testified that he was working nights, and Kenny woke him up at ten-thirty on the day of the murder. Jackson had seen no blood on him. They'd had a couple of beers together, and Kenny Ray Clark had gone on his way.
Joe Fowler did not dignify this testimony by attacking the witness himself. He sent his female assistant to do it.
"You're a good friend of the defendant, aren't you, Lougie?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't lie for him. And I'd appreciate it if you'd call me by my last name."
"Isn't it true—Mr. Jackson—that in 1984 in St. Lucie County, you were convicted of possession of cocaine with intent to distribute?"
This was the first Walter Meadows had heard of it. Gamely he tried to rehabilitate the witness on cross-examination, but skepticism was written all over the jurors' faces.
Closing arguments began the next morning.
It was a two-foot putt for the prosecution, but Joseph J. Fowler went over every detail of the crime and investigation. He methodically laid a foundation for the jury's only logical choice: a verdict of guilt. He proposed an explanation for the lack of blood on the defendant: Clark had showered at the Dodson home, then had changed clothes in his truck. In rebuttal, Walter Meadows argued that the state had failed to prove its case. That there was no physical evidence. That his client had been on Lougie Jackson's front porch drinking beer at 10:30. He couldn't have murdered Amber Dodson and have driven to Port St. Lucie all wit
hin twenty-five minutes. Reasonable doubt existed.
The jury was out for three hours. When the clerk announced the verdict, the defendant dropped into his chair. The Mayfields ran to embrace the prosecutors. Spectators applauded and cheered until Judge Willis gaveled everyone quiet. He announced that court would reconvene on Monday to consider the sentence.
Walter Meadows objected. This wasn't enough time. He hadn't prepared. The judge said that defense counsel should have known to prepare, and there would be no extensions. Guards fingerprinted and handcuffed the defendant before taking him back to his holding cell.
The penalty phase took three days. The prosecution relied heavily on the opinion of a psychologist, who said, "This is a violent man. If given a life sentence, he would be a danger to other inmates. If he ever got out, he could kill again."
Gary Dodson took the stand to talk about his wife, their marriage, their hopes for the future. How much he missed her. There was still no mention of his son, but the jurors were in tears.
Meadows arranged for Kenny Ray's sister to fly in from Mobile, Alabama, to testify about their childhood. The beatings. How Kenny Ray had caught the brunt of their stepfather's rage. She did not mention the sexual abuse. Kenny Ray had forbidden anyone to bring it up. Ruby Smith came next to say that at heart, he was a good person, and he had suffered much as a child. Meadows excused her, but before leaving the stand she turned to the jury. "It's not right to kill. God makes that decision, not man. Please let him live. If he did wrong, he can repent and be saved."
Each side made a closing argument. Joe Fowler took off his glasses and approached the jury. Speaking without notes he went through the evidence, recounted the witnesses' testimony, and paid particular attention to the husband's grievous loss. An hour and a half later he summed up with these remarks:
"Mr. Meadows will ask you to recommend a life sentence. Is that justice? Is that what this crime demands? Ladies and gentlemen, this murder was not only premeditated, it was vicious. Amber Dodson's crucifix was driven into her body from the force of a knife entering her flesh over twenty-seven times. Do not doubt she suffered. She suffered alone and in great terror and pain. Her husband was robbed of his wife, her family of a beloved daughter and sister. I ask you, if the death penalty is not appropriate here, then where would it be appropriate? We as a society have a right to demand retribution. To say yes, this young woman's life mattered. To say yes, where the crime is this cruel and the loss so great, the penalty of death is the appropriate, moral response of a civilized society. I ask you—I beg you—to remember, to honor, this young woman. Justice demands that Kenneth Ray Clark pay the ultimate price for his crime."
Joseph J. Fowler must have stood silently looking at the defendant for several long moments, letting his words sink in, before returning to his chair.
Five years later, when Denise Robinson filed the first motion under Rule 3.850 in an attempt to overturn the conviction, she stated that Walter Meadows had been drunk. The defendant had smelled alcohol on his breath. If only the defendant had complained to the trial judge. If only.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Thank you for your time and attention. You have a momentous decision before you. Momentous. Whether to take or spare a man's life. You have found him guilty, this young man, Kenny Ray Clark. My client. You have heard the evidence. You have heard from Amber's husband. You know how he felt, losing his wife. It was indeed a terrible loss. Yes. I submit to you, however, that this does not justify the taking of another life, when that life—the life of my client—was twisted by the beatings of his stepfather and addiction and suicide of his mother. It was a sad and violent childhood. Not a normal life. But to deprive him of it won't restore Amber Dodson to us. An eye for an eye, and we're all blind. With mercy in your heart, I beg you. Spare a man's life. A human life. For every life is precious. The quality of mercy is not strained, but droppeth as gentle rain. Thank you."
This was the totality of Walter Meadows's argument on his client's behalf.
The jury came back with a recommendation of death, ten to two. Judge Willis pronounced sentence then and there. Kenny Ray dark screamed at the judge, "They set me up! They're liars!" He was dragged away. "I didn't do it! I'm innocent! You're going to kill an innocent man!"
The Mayfields stood hand in hand on the courthouse lawn, facing the cameras. Lacey Mayfield was beaming. Her father read a statement. "All we want to say is, thank you, God, for guiding Mr. Fowler. Thank you to the sheriff's department and the judge and the jury. Thank you all for your prayers. We are sorry for Mr. Clark, and we bear no ill will toward him or his family. We hope this verdict will enable our daughter to rest in peace."
Gary Dodson smiled as his parents hugged him. "It's over. It's finally over."
Not quite. It was 1993 before the Florida Supreme Court affirmed the conviction. By law, the case was then assigned to a team of state-funded appellate lawyers, the Office of Capital Collateral Representatives. They would not raise the question of guilt or innocence: that issue had been resolved. They would raise issues of due process. They would allege ineffective assistance of trial counsel and look for new evidence.
The Rule 3.850 motion was filed in 1994 and summarily dismissed by Judge Willis in 1995. A year later, the Florida Supreme Court reversed, ordering that Willis hear testimony.
Lacey Mayfield appeared at the hearing in 1997. In this photograph she is heavier. She wears a T-shirt with the logo of NAVA, the National Association for Victims Advocacy. "What about our rights? Don't we count? My family's lives have been destroyed too, and we need the pain to end. We need closure. How long do we have to wait?"
Judge Willis ruled that Walter Meadows had done an adequate job and that in any event, nothing he had done, or failed to do, would have changed the verdict. Motion denied.
CCR appealed to the state supreme court, which affirmed in 1998. The governor signed a death warrant. An appeal to the federal district court resulted in a stay, and within a year the court had granted a petition for habeas corpus. Quirks in the schedule sent the case flying to the Eleventh Circuit, which reversed. Two years later, the case reached the end of the line. The U.S. Supreme Court refused to hear it.
The Stuart News ran the story on page four of the local section, along with another reprint of the victim's high school portrait. Her sister vowed to go to the governor. "It seems like everybody has forgotten what happened here. We haven't. As long as Kenneth Ray Clark is still breathing, and my sister is dead, it's a slap in the face of justice."
Eleven years had passed since sentence had been pronounced. This was about average. Some inmates had been on death row more than twenty years, and it was not unreasonable to imagine that Kenny Ray Clark could reach middle age before the execution took place. If it took place at all.
In 1997, as Walter Meadows was retiring from practice, he sent some of his old files down to Fort Lauderdale, care of Denise Robinson. She found, among the disorderly papers, a letter-size envelope with the name Carol Malloy typed on the front as though the address were to be filled in later. Inside the envelope was another, smaller envelope containing a letter from Florida State Prison, written by Kenny Ray Clark.
Denise had shown the letter to Gail. "Here. Read this. And ignore the bad spelling."
June 8,1991
Dear Carol,
I have wrote you about ten letters since last year. I sent them to the apartment and to your folks house but no luck. Have you moved? Please send me your new adress.
You heard alot of lies about me, but this is the truth. I AM INNOCENT! The Florida supreme court will decide the apeal and I pray to God they will let me out, it was a mistake from start to finish.
It might take a year or maybe two and I wish you would wait for me but I understand if you can't. Please write back if only to say hello and how are you doing. It is depressing in here and knowing a letter is on it's way from you would mean alot. Will you send me a picture? If you don't have one that's okay cause I see your beautiful face whe
never I close my eyes. You are the one true love of my life.
This is the month of June, do you remember we talked about if we got married it would be in June? I said I will love you forever and I still mean it. I LOVE YOU.
Please write back if I haven't bored you too much.
I will never forget you and I hope you feel the same. Stay sweet.
Sincerley,
Kenny
After finding the letter, Denise Robinson called Walter Meadows to ask why it was still in the file. Meadows said he had spoken to Carol Malloy. She had received the other letters but had thrown them away unopened, and she didn't want this one either.
CHAPTER 9
Saturday night, March 10
Officers on the Stuart Police Department rotated from shift to shift—days, nights, midnights. Jackie Bryce had been on nights for a couple of months, working three to eleven. Some of the road officers complained when they rotated around to nights because it cut into their social life, but Jackie couldn't say she had much of that. Unless she went out, which wasn't often, she would sit around the house in her jeans and a T-shirt and read. The current topic was bloodstain interpretation. Some of the detectives had been talking about it earlier in the week, and Jackie had borrowed a book from her father's study. The book was open on the circular oak table beside her bowl of cereal. As she sliced a banana she read the section on impact spatter.
Road patrol was where everyone started, but Jackie wanted the detective bureau before she was thirty. It wouldn't happen any faster for her than for anyone else. Garlan had made it clear to Chief Pitts: no favors. That was all right, but Jackie could see how her relationship with the sheriff of Martin County was having an opposite effect. The brass didn't want anybody to think she had an advantage, so they cut her no slack whatsoever.
Jackie wrote a few words in her notebook. Medium velocity: diameter 1-4 mm, usually blunt force injury. She looked up at a movement across the kitchen. Diddy had come downstairs in his old bathrobe. His hair was damp, sticking to his head.
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