73
PAUL WALTON BEGAN his closing where he felt the trial, with all of its drama and media exposure and focus on Donna Trapani and Sybil Padgett, belonged: “Martha Gail Fulton was a loving mother to Melissa, Emily, and Andrew.”
The case came down to the murder of a mother and wife—an innocent woman who had done nothing to deserve the torture she had gone through during the final few months of her life, along with that hail of gunfire she received as a sentence for loving a man she had been with for a quarter century. And it was that love of family, Walton explained, “a dedication and devotion, that ultimately cost [Gail] her life.”
He talked about the law and “the counts” the jury was going to be judging Donna and Sybil on. Then he went through the long lead-up to the murder and the actual crime itself, telling jurors how Donna had committed this vicious crime with the help of Kevin Ouellette, Patrick Alexander, and Sybil Padgett. It all went back to Donna Trapani, however. She had masterminded the entire plot. She had put her pawns in play. It was as if Donna were there herself, in the parking lot of that library, pulling the trigger.
The prosecutor next mentioned the phone messages Donna had left at George and Gail’s house. Then he played the tapes.
It was powerful evidence. Direct. In your face. It showed how Donna could turn from a calm and articulate woman, well-spoken and somewhat intellectual, into an evil, calculating, and angry witch—all within the snap of a finger.
The voice of the killer, in all its rawness and vulgarity, was on that tape. There was the woman scorned—whom Paul Walton had opened his case with—ready to take revenge on the one person she saw standing in her way.
Gail Fulton, Walton said, making a great point, “represented everything that Donna Trapani wasn’t!”
After talking about the videotape, Walton keyed on the bullets and how each projectile had entered Gail’s body, where it landed, and how each added to a painful and bloody death.
He talked about the various ways in which Donna had first planned to kill Gail, adding, “When you started this case, you took an oath.... The evidence in this case is overwhelming. The evidence in this case clearly points that this woman”—he turned and directed all of his attention toward Donna, who sat writing something, a smirk of sarcasm on her face—“is a murderess, and that she not only is a murderess, she planned the murder. Conspired with others. Brought others into her warped sense of reality. And it is because of this that Gail Fulton is no longer with us.”
Walton used the best that technology had to offer: PowerPoint, with photos and graphics. He put on an illustrated show that jurors could relate to as facts.
The prosecutor took a breath. He stood silent for a brief moment. There was stillness in the courtroom. Then, without another word, he walked back to his seat. It was smart to keep his closing brief and to the point. An attorney never wanted to belabor an issue. Paul Walton had that experience behind him to know the difference between saying too much and the power of leaving certain things unspoken.
The judge took a short recess. Then: “Mr. Kaluzny?”
Donna Trapani’s lawyer stood. He put a hand in his right pocket. He walked toward the jury box, without saying anything, deep in thought. Lawrence Kaluzny was a clever, experienced defense lawyer; he had decades of experience behind him. He knew this case was an uphill battle from the start.
“Good afternoon, everybody,” Kaluzny said, sounding as though a friend to each juror. By no fault of his own, Larry Kaluzny was running up an escalator the opposite way. Backpedaling. Trying to fix not what his client had broken, but rather shattered.
He decided to start by taking a poke at Paul Walton, noting: “I thought I was pretty high-tech when I got a pen that had a soft feel to it, but after that presentation, I don’t think it is so high-tech anymore.” He stopped short of laughing. Trying to, one would guess, speak to jurors on their own terms. There would be no PowerPoint presentation for Larry Kaluzny. No gadgets. No “high-tech” computer graphics explaining his case. He was old-school all the way. There would just be the powerful words of a lawyer pleading his case. “Donna did not want Gail dead. The relationship with George, in her mind, was not over. George was still communicating with her. Even after the Fourth of July weekend.”
If Donna Trapani had not killed Gail Fulton, who had? Larry Kaluzny needed to solve this riddle.
“Other people were opportunistic. They preyed upon [Donna’s] vulnerability, thinking they could benefit from a woman who they thought had a lot of money.”
Kaluzny called Donna “a woman who, by all practical purposes, was emotionally destroyed, physically devastated, and financially destroyed.”
He warned jurors against putting “sympathy, pain, anger, [and] outrage” ahead of, or interfering with, “the facts of the law.”
He next went through that common cornucopia of defense attorney reasons for finding his client not guilty: reasonable doubt, of course, being at the top of the list. He couched it as “proof beyond any doubt.” He mentioned how jurors needed to be “one hundred percent” on board with a guilty verdict. And all of this, he realized, for each juror, was “certainly something much greater than the civil test, but . . . the prosecutor has to prove the case beyond a reasonable doubt.”
“Matlock” was on fire. For about twenty minutes Kaluzny talked about George Fulton (“He is not to blame here!”) and the relationship between the two lovebirds, noting, “What does make sense is, that group that came up here and killed Gail were looking for an easy way to make money.”
Then it was on to Sybil Padgett. He called her Donna’s “friend, employee, someone that Donna helped . . . someone Donna trusted . . . someone who cheated on her reports, filed false work claims. . . .” That very person, he stated, could be the same person trying to extort money from Donna and involved in trying to frame her for a murder conspiracy. Kaluzny added that Sybil was “the key” to getting this entire ball of killing Gail Fulton rolling. Sybil had taken out of context a few stray, anger-inspired comments by Donna (for instance, “I wish Gail was dead”). Donna had been mad and had been spouting off at the mouth, Kaluzny insisted, and Sybil put these idle threats into action. Kaluzny called Sybil “not a brilliant person.”
“She is the one that gets the gun. . . .
“She is the one that gets Kevin. . . .
“She used Donna, and she wanted more money. If you’re going to kill somebody, do you say, ‘Give me a few thousand dollars now, and you can pay me the rest later’?”
A pause for a beat.
Then: “Well, maybe if you get enough!”
Kaluzny went on to call Patrick by the wrong name: Brian Alexander. He called him, the “young kid.” The liar. The impish hick who had read the police reports in the case and then fingered the others to get out of serious jail time.
“Is he someone you want to believe?”
Kaluzny went on and on for twenty additional minutes; then Paul Walton stood and rebutted some of what Kaluzny had said.
In that hodgepodge of rebuttal comments, Walton came up with the line of the trial: “This crime was conceived in hell . . . [and] when you are going to conceive a crime in hell, you don’t go to Heaven for the actors.”
Lawrence Kaluzny had rattled Walton’s cage, because Paul Walton felt the need to go on for ten more minutes, arguing many of the weaker points Kaluzny had made.
The bottom line here was fairly obvious as both lawyers finished, and Sybil’s lawyer took a crack at saving her ass: For Donna Trapani, it was all over. For Sybil Padgett, well, that was a different matter. If she was lucky, Sybil was going to see a second-degree murder verdict and maybe, just maybe, she would feel the free light of day on her back again in the distant future.
74
IT DID NOT take long for either jury to come back with guilty verdicts. On December 12, 2000, a dreary preholiday Tuesday, as the Bush-Gore fiasco continued in Florida and the presidential race was still up for grabs (and a few new buzzwords—“hangi
ng chads”—were enmeshed into the lexicon of pop culture), Sybil Padgett and Donna Trapani were convicted of first-degree murder, in addition to conspiracy to commit murder.
This meant bad times ahead for the dynamic duo.
When it came to sentencing, there was no other choice for the judge but to hold each woman accountable under the parameters of state law. Thus, Sybil Padgett and Donna Trapani were sentenced to “concurrent terms of life . . . imprisonment without parole for the murder conviction and life imprisonment for the conspiracy conviction.”
Eternity.
“She didn’t say anything,” Larry Kaluzny told reporters after the verdict, referring to Donna’s reaction to hearing the rest of her life spiraling down a prison drain. “I had her pretty well-prepared for the verdict. When she was trying to decide whether to testify, I told her she shouldn’t stick her head in the sand, that there would be a good chance she will be convicted.”
At least the guy was a realist.
Donna might not have said anything to her attorney as the verdicts were read into the record, but her wheels were spinning. She had plenty she wanted to discuss. Just not with Larry Kaluzny or the court.
After her conviction (moments, not days or weeks later), Donna Trapani informed her attorney that she wanted to sit down with Court TV, which had been in the courtroom during proceedings, asking for interviews while filming portions of the case. Donna wanted to give the network an exclusive sit-down.
Given that an appeal in any murder conviction is almost a guarantee, what was Donna doing?
For whatever reason Donna needed to have the last word.
As he was collecting his things to leave court, Paul Walton heard what Donna was up to. For Walton, one-half of the case had ended. He had won. Yet, it wasn’t about jumping up and down, pumping a victorious fist in the air; it was about Gail Fulton. Walton had obtained justice for Gail and her family.
Still, Walton couldn’t believe Donna was sitting down to talk about her case so soon.
“Listen, if she’s going to be in there talking . . . before her appeal comes back,” he told Larry Kaluzny, “I want to be there. I need to hear what she has to say.”
Walton walked into the room. There was Donna. Teasing her hair. Dabbing her lipstick. Asking about her eyeliner. Making sure she looked good for the camera.
Donna Trapani’s big network debut.
The woman had just been told she was going to spend the rest of her life in prison and here she was gearing up for an interview, as though she could talk her way out of it all.
“Donna, don’t do this,” Kaluzny warned her. “This is not a good idea.”
The convicted murderer shrugged it off.
“This is surreal to me,” Walton said.
“How is my lipstick?” Donna asked one of Court TV’s crew members (according to Paul Walton). “Does anyone have a mirror?”
At one point during the interview, Donna stopped. She turned to Paul Walton after saying something into the camera and asked, “Can this be used against me later on appeal?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Trapani . . . but . . . um . . . I cannot give you any advice.”
Duh!
Donna asked another question of the APA. By then, Larry Kaluzny had left the room.
“Miss Trapani, I cannot answer you.”
In all his years of lawyering, Walton had never seen such a display of ignorance and ego from a defendant whom he had just put away for life.
With a broad smile on his face, the Court TV reporter who was emceeing the videotaped interview with Donna called it, “The murder-for-hire trial . . . that had more twists and turns and shady characters than Pulp Fiction.” This “deadly three-ring circus,” the announcer added, was loaded with high drama like what one only sees in Hollywood.
As for Donna Trapani, what can be said about this Court TV interview? Well, while wearing a neatly pressed pumpkin-orange prison jumpsuit, she once again rambled her way through what she referred to as the “facts,” giving Court TV only one good grab it could use to lure viewers into what was, in the end, a worthless interview.
“I hated him—and I still do,” Donna said, referring to George Fulton, the man who, when all was said and done, found himself still at the center of the murder of his wife.
Leaving the court that day, George, who had not donned a mustache for quite some time now, was seen shaking his head in great disbelief. Not at the outcome. He was glad that his wife’s murderers were convicted and would pay their debts. But more so, one source noted, at being duped so badly. It wasn’t until the preliminary exam, according to that same source, when George Fulton had finally believed that his once-treasured Donna—“my life and my love”—had planned the murder of his wife.
And here was a jury and judge now affirming that undeniable fact.
Epilogue
SOMEONE WHO KNEW Donna Trapani very well once told me that Donna was the type of woman to either end up someone’s bitch within the first few weeks of being behind bars, catering to that inmate’s every need, or literally running the prison herself.
As of this writing, the latter seems to be at least somewhat true.
Same as I do in all of the cases I cover, I wrote to the major players here as well.
Kevin Ouellette never answered. He had spoken his peace, apparently, and that was it—the guy was going to let his testimony and interviews with the police speak for themselves.
Patrick Alexander was a different story. Patrick sent me what was a rather hilarious return missive. I should say that there was a part of me that expected this. Nonetheless, Patrick did his best to explain himself. The letter, to my great surprise and pleasure, like the one I would soon receive from Donna, was typed. I always appreciate it when inmates type their responses. It beats the chicken scratch I routinely receive.
Patrick told me it had taken him some time to respond (several weeks, actually) because he had thought long and hard about talking with me. He had finally come to a few conclusions he wanted to share.
This should be good, I thought while reading the opening of his letter.
Patrick did not disappoint. He said, number one, he would “not give [me] permission to use [his] name in [my] book.” His “main reason” for this was that he wanted to know more about how I was “going to spin the story.” Yes, spin the story. (He must have been watching lots of The O’Reilly Factor.) He said he had no problem corresponding with me, but he would have a hard time remembering various aspects of his case because he did not have any of the documents. He had been given copies of his court papers but, he added, “over the course of being locked up,” he had lost all of them. Of course, he wanted me to “attain” these documents for him and send copies to the prison.
Next he apologized for asking the question before he let it rip, warning me that he was a “human being” and “must ask” (emphasis added). He wanted to know if there was “any possibility” for him to “get paid for helping” me with the book.
Sure, the check’s in the mail, Pat.
Once again, the very thing that had landed the guy in prison—greed—was there pushing Patrick Alexander to act.
I never responded to this admitted murderer. What’s the point? A guy who had pled to a murder charge in open court on the record who thinks I cannot use his name without his permission is not someone I need to be involved with. Plus, he asked for money. How could I ever trust the man’s integrity? Truth be told, Patrick Alexander gave the police an entire narrative and testified in two trials. There was plenty of information about him, his crimes, and his role in Gail’s murder.
I wrote to Sybil Padgett and Donna Trapani, separately. They are housed in the same facility.
Sybil did not respond.
When Donna wrote me back, I realized why Sybil had not responded.
Donna opened her letter by apologizing for not writing sooner, but she wanted me to know that she had been “spending every waking hour” preparing to meet “deadlines for appeals.” Th
is is what I admire about convicted murderers: the fact that they never give up on the appeal process; that tenacity to always believe, around every corner, that freedom awaits, if only they say the right thing and appeal to the right judge.
Donna thanked me for my “interest in [her] case.” She did wonder, however, why I was interested. She was “open to the matter” of being interviewed, but wanted to know what had sparked my interest in her case. She claimed to be “hurt severely,” as well as her “family” by all the “mass media” coverage that took place during her trial. She blamed the media for her father’s death. She said Charlie, her ex-husband, regretted what he had told the media and was “still angry” about her “affair and wanted revenge at the time.”
Revenge? What in the world was this crazy woman insinuating now? After all these years, was she going to blame Gail’s murder on her ex-husband, Charlie?
Donna went on to say she and Charlie had “resolved everything” between them in 2003, and, sadly, Charlie died of cancer in 2009.
Ah, there she goes—blame the dead guy. If possible, they all try it.
Donna next wanted to know how I would portray her in the book. She had “moved on.” She could “never” speak to me on the telephone because “all conversations are recorded.”
Then came a point where Donna told me, in not so many words, how she still, to this day, controls Sybil Padgett. Donna said she knew I had written to her “codefendant, Padgett,” so she was not sure, she continued, if my request to interview her was about Donna or Sybil.
I wrote back. My response is worth printing here, in part—namely, because I never heard from Donna again after sending the letter:
Dear Donna:
Your case interests me because I like to write about families and their struggles.... I would portray Gail’s murder and this case—and you—as the truth emerges and I investigate the case from top to bottom, and interview all of the players involved. . . . I report the truth as I [discover] it. I didn’t find “mass media” coverage of your case; in fact, there is not a lot of newspaper reporting out there today. What “mass media” are you referring to? If you have any of those stories, send them along, and we can discuss them.
Kiss of the She-Devil Page 31
