Murder Books

At midnight on August 2^nd, 1976, Stan Farr, a former college basketball player, and his girlfriend returned to her home following a night out in Fort Worth. The girlfriend, Priscilla Davis, was a petite Texas woman who was soon to be divorced from her husband. Stan went upstairs to the second-floor bedroom. Priscilla walked into the kitchen to turn off the lights. There, she spotted a bloody handprint on the door leading to the basement.

About that time, a man dressed in black wearing a woman’s wig stepped around the corner and entered the room. “Hi,” he said. Then he shot Priscilla in the chest.

She screamed. The noise brought Stan Farr downstairs. The 6-foot, 9-inch man met the intruder. The gunman shot him twice. Then he fired two more times. Farr died. Compounding the tragedy, authorities later found the body of Priscilla’s twelve-year-old daughter, Andrea, in the basement of the home. She, too, had been murdered, killed by a single gunshot.  

Priscilla recognized the shooter as her estranged husband, Cullen Davis. Desperate to escape, she staggered outside. As she tried to flee, two of Priscilla’s friends, Bev Bass and Bubba Gavrel, arrived at her home. The killer walked to the car and shot again. The bullets paralyzed Gavrel and wounded Bev. Priscilla used the opportunity to run to a nearby house. The owner called the police and an ambulance.

With time and tragedy, people have forgotten about the Cullen and Priscilla Davis case. At the time, it dominated national news. Priscilla Davis was a bosomy dynamo, 5-feet, 2-inches tall with a great mound of blond hair who came from the poor part of Houston. Cullen had inherited an oil money fortune from his father and had built Stonegate, an elaborate mansion on Fort Worth’s west side. He exuded a personal style of extravagance that helped mask a vicious temper. The prosecution of Cullen Davis is my Trial of the Month.  

Based on the eyewitness testimony, the police arrested Cullen Davis at the home of his girlfriend, Karen Master. He was charged with two murders and two attempted murders. Bail was set at $80,000 (approximately $450,000 today). Cullen Davis posted bond and was released within 24 hours. He was subsequently re-arrested as he allegedly boarded his private jet for Venezuela. This time, Davis was charged with capital murder, and bail was denied.

At the time of his August 1977 trial, Cullen Davis’s wealth was estimated to be more than $100 million ($550 million in current dollars). He was the wealthiest person ever tried for capital murder.

Cullen and Priscilla Davis were both flamboyant individuals, and their divorce was a heated and high-publicity affair. Earlier in the day, a judge had ordered Priscilla’s monthly support to be increased. Cullen had already been evicted from Stonegate, the mansion he had designed. Priscilla asked the divorce court for $50 million. The prosecution believed that Cullen’s rage over the money provided a motive for the murders.

Because of publicity, the trial was moved to Amarillo in the Texas Panhandle. The district attorney tried Davis for the death of Andrea, believing that the child would present the most sympathetic victim. The case began on August 20^th, 1977. Although there was no direct evidence in Andrea’s case, the scene at the house had two eyewitnesses. Priscilla recognized her husband and called him by name. Beverly Bass also identified Cullen Davis.

The case had some holes. The police recovered no physical evidence. The gun and wig were never found. No fingerprints located.

Cullen Davis had unlimited funds to spend on his defense. He hired a high-powered legal team led by Richard “Racehorse” Haynes, a legendary Texas criminal defense attorney. Davis had a partial alibi. His girlfriend, Master, testified that he was sleeping with her around midnight. Initially, however, she had told investigators that she had taken a sleeping pill and was uncertain about his whereabouts.

The defense, however, didn’t rely on an alibi. Instead, the defense’s attack on the government’s case was two-pronged. They highlighted the lack of physical evidence and assailed the credibility of the eyewitnesses.

The defense put Priscilla Davis on trial rather than Cullen.

With the investigative resources available, Racehorse Haynes’s team found dirt on Priscilla that went back years. He cross-examined her for days about her sex life, her prescription drug usage, and her parties.

Unquestionably, Priscilla had baggage. Her favorite necklace, famously, spelled out RICH BITCH in diamonds. In her halter top and hot pants, Priscilla cut a swath through Fort Worth society in the Swinging 70s. It is safe to say that today, no judge in the country would give the defense the latitude that Haynes was allowed in vilifying the eyewitness.

Somewhere in the midst, 12-year-old Andrea got forgotten.

Haynes spun a theory that Priscilla and Bev colluded to frame Cullen while running for their lives.

Over my career, I’ve been privileged to know many lawyers. Some are better than others, of course, but few are outcome-determinative. Not many lawyers can sell the idea that a woman who has been shot in the chest could concoct a story to gain an advantage in her divorce action by blaming her estranged husband. And then persuade another wounded and fleeing witness to go along with the scheme.

Outside the courtroom, the defense pioneered a tactic now considered commonplace. The lawyers used their client’s wealth to orchestrate a public relations campaign. Cullen Davis became an Amarillo celebrity. He was allowed to sign autographs. Attendees to the trial baked him cookies. By contrast, people near the courthouse hissed when Priscilla walked past. Conservative Amarillo wasn’t ready for a hussy like Priscilla.

To gain an additional advantage, Cullen Davis’s defense team bribed one of the district attorney’s investigators to report on the prosecution’s strategy. They reportedly paid him $5,000 a month at a time when the assistant district attorney prosecuting the case was earning $1,000 monthly. The arrangement only became known decades after the trial concluded.

And it finished sooner than the district attorney hoped. After a three-month trial, the jury deliberated for less than five hours before returning a verdict of not guilty.

The elected district attorney, Tim Curry, afterwards said simply, “We were out-bought and out-thought.”

The case’s lessons resonate. Racehorse Haynes prepared for the trial. He knew Priscilla’s life better than she did. He was able, through days of cross-examination, to tear her down and completely undermine her testimony. His pre-trial preparation made a fantastic theory plausible.

Cases are won in and out of the courtroom. The defense used their resources to mount a local campaign and shape the community’s mind about the good and bad people. The public relations component of high-dollar litigation was elevated with the Cullen Davis trial.

Cheating doesn’t hurt either. At least, it doesn’t, if you’re never caught. Decades later, Cullen Davis acknowledged paying the district attorney investigator to provide intelligence; he maintained, however, that the information was of limited use. Undeniably, money helped shape the outcome of the case.

I arrived in Fort Worth in 1979. For a newcomer to town, Stonegate Mansion was a whispered tourist spot. You have to go by and see it, the locals said. That’s where IT happened.

For its high-profile status and its continuing lessons, the Cullen Davis murder trial is the August Trial of the Month.

Mark Thielman

After being absent from the blog for a few months, I’m thrilled that my first post, upon returning, is an interview with the enormously talented Anna Scotti. Please join me in welcoming her to the blog, today, where we’ll talk about writing, and about It’s Not Even Past, her new collection of short stories, from Down & Out Books, featuring her very compelling librarian-on-the-run protagonist. Anna’s short stories have been recent finalists for the Macavity, International Thriller Writers, Claymore, and Derringer awards, as well as for the Ellery Queen Reader’s Choice Award. Her stories have been selected three times for Best Mystery Stories of the Year (Mysterious Press, 2022, 2024, and 2025), and she has received numerous awards for her poetry and young adult fiction. Her work can be found in The New Yorker, and The Saturday Evening Post, as well as a variety of anthologies and literary magazines.

MB: Your command of foreshadowing is a beautiful thing. In one story, which I won’t name, to avoid a spoiler, you put the key front and center at least three times, and still managed to keep me in the dark all the way to the end. Is this something you consciously focus on, or does it come naturally?

AS: Thank you, Roger! I don’t think I consciously decide “insert a little foreshadowing here” as I’m writing, but certainly once a story is written, I will read it carefully, trying to see through the eyes of a reader, to determine whether I’ve given enough hints to be fair to the reader trying to figure out whodunnit—or perhaps whydunnit. At the same time, hints, clues, and foreshadowings have to be organic enough to surprise the reader in some way at the end. Your reaction is just the one I want—for the reader to realize the answers were there all along, but to have been captivated enough not to notice them.

MB: Whenever I read anything, I can’t help but edit it in my head it as I read, even my own stories—especially my own stories, even after they’re published—but I noticed about fifty pages into It’s Not Even Past, that I wasn’t doing that with your prose. It moves so beautifully and so smoothly that my unconscious (and incredibly irritating) edit module just never turned on. Tell us a bit about your process for achieving such an elegant result.

AS: That’s funny, because I also edit everything I read as I go. And often unkindly! I appreciate that you notice that my prose is clean, because I spend a lot of time editing, revising, and rewriting. I’ve been teaching writing and grammar for 22 years—first to children and teens, and now I teach adults online. So I know a few tricks. I tend to write a lot at a sitting, then go back and read, and edit, and rewrite—and then when I think I have it just right, I put whatever I’ve written, be it story, poem, chapter—I put it aside for a few days or even a couple of weeks. I call that “letting it cool.” And no matter how carefully I think I’ve written and edited, I always find typos, misspellings, repetitions, or factual errors when I go back to the piece with fresh eyes. Always! ”All writing is rewriting” has been attributed to a number of different people, notably Hemingway, but whoever said it, it rings true. Revision is the most important element of good writing.

MB: The idea of a protagonist who is more or less constantly on the run, because she’s under federal protection from some really bad people, is a great way to move the location to keep it interesting, but it requires a lot of ‘local knowledge’ from the writer. How do you manage to keep your settings so authentic—physically, culturally, and politically—across so many different places?

AS: I never write about a place I haven’t been—there are too many pitfalls in that approach. Whenever I go anywhere new, I make notes about specific spots—streets, parks, restaurants—to use later. I even take a few pictures. I notice how people dress and speak so that I can include some authentic details in my stories. I try so hard to keep it real—but mistakes do slip through. My colleague Floyd Sullivan, an accomplished mystery writer himself, found a blooper in one of my stories. Cam, the librarian-on-the-run, is originally from Chicago. So although we never see her there, she thinks about her life in Chicago, and talks about it a lot. And one thing she mourns frequently is her job at the Harold Washington Library. Well, I’ve lived in Chicago, but I grew up in Washington, D.C., and we had a mayor named Walter Washington. So at some point I confused their names! Floyd let me know in time to fix it prior to publication, thank goodness!

MB: Your protagonist is a former librarian, whose life was uprooted by some incredibly tough circumstances. How did you choose this profession for your character? Did you consider other professions for her?

AS: Like a lot of “latchkey kids” of my generation, I grew up in libraries—the Chevy Chase branch of the DC public library was a fantastic place to hang out after school. Pre-internet, the reference librarian could tell you just about anything you needed to know, from the names of the Founding Fathers to the population of Kenya to the phylum, class and order of any living thing. Librarians were admirably erudite and usually very kind and patient, and I’ve always deeply admired them. So it was an obvious choice for my brainy but naive character’s backstory.

MB: Will there be more stories about this protagonist?

AS: Oh, indeed, yes! The latest story is Traveller from an Antique Land, which is not in the collection. It picks up where the last story in the collection leaves off, and you can find it in the May/June 2025 issue of Ellery Queen. Traveller is the first story in which Cam is no longer on the run, although she is in a sense still on the run from her family and friends, and from her own past. Then there’s another one in the can that I hope will appear in an upcoming issue of EQ soon. Beyond that, I’ve got to make some choices for Cam. She’s got a wanna-be love interest waiting in the wings – and who it is may surprise you—but before she can pursue that, she’s got to make some decisions about career…she won’t try to go back to being a librarian. Perhaps she could get licensed as a private eye!

MB: For the writers reading this interview, who aspire to have a publishable collection of their own, what advice would you give them? What was the biggest challenge to getting a project like this across the finish line?

AS: That’s an easy one, because I think every writer should plan for every story to be their best—something they’d be proud to publish as a stand-alone, without any thought of continuing on. That said, one piece of advice is don’t kill off your main character—or anyone you hope to use again (here’s looking at you, Owen James). Another is to keep notes. All those details you so blithely build into the story in order to add texture—your character loves Grey Poupon mustard and is allergic to bee stings and has twin brothers and a blonde cousin and has never attended an opera, that kind of stuff—all of those details have the potential to come back and haunt you in later stories if you don’t keep notes. Last bit of advice—don’t focus so intently on the big prize—that would be publication in Ellery Queen or Alfred Hitchcock for those of us in the mystery biz—that you forget about other potential venues. I’m proud and grateful to have the librarian-on-the-run appear regularly in Ellery Queen, but I’ve got another recurring character—Aubrey Blackwell, a schoolteacher—who pops up all over the place. She made her debut in Paranoia Blues (Down&Out Press, 2022)—one of the best, and least-circulated, anthologies I’ve read. The second Aubrey story will appear in an upcoming anthology with different editors, and a third in a future issue of Black Cat Weekly. The fourth is still in planning stages. Will there every be an Aubrey Blackwell collection? I’d love that, but right now I’m putting together a collection of work that doesn’t feature a recurring character. It’s called They Look Like Angels, and a little sample of the manuscript made the finals at Killer Nashville! It’s got stories from Ellery Queen, Black Cat Weekly, The Saturday Evening Post, assorted literary magazines—and there are a couple that are as yet unpublished!

You know, it occurs to me, saying all this, that some readers may not know the difference between an anthology and a collection. It’s simple—a collection is by one author, and an anthology by many. Either way, there’s always a commonality that ties the stories together. In the librarian and Aubrey stories, it’s the main character, but in They Look Like Angels, it’s the genre. Dark—I guess you could say literary noir. The title story won the Orlando Prize for fiction a few years back, judged by Aimee Liu. That was a proud moment! And there’s one more caveat for writers who aspire to publish a collection—it takes time! There are stories in Angels that appeared in print more than five years ago, and others that will appear later this year. That’s a big span! But with all of the various genres I write in, that’s the best I could do. And a good story holds up; some of mine are topical, but never so much so that their shelf life is cut short. Otto Penzler always includes a vintage story at the end of his “Best Mystery Stories of the Year” anthologies, and it’s astonishing how well those carefully-crafted classic stories hold up. Susan Glaspell’s A Jury of Her Peers was written over 100 years ago, and it’s still riveting! So there’s an aspiration for all of us—to write stories that they’ll be reading in the year 2125!

Anna, a million thanks for taking the time to do this interview. Best of luck with It’s Not Even Past, and all your future writing. For those reading Murder Books, today, if you need more, to pique your interest in this wonderful new collection, here’s what it’s all about: Once a brainy but naive PhD candidate quoting Shakespeare, Donne and Baudelaire with ease, the librarian we know as Cam Baker, Juliette Gregory, Sonia Sutton or Dana Kane is on the run, forced to trust Witness Protection to keep her alive as she jumps from one alias to another. Always just a step ahead of her ruthless ex and his cartel henchmen, Cam must hide her intelligence and education, accepting menial jobs that will let her stay on the down-low, experiencing the best and worst of the human condition along the way. From her first placement in Billings, Montana to a homeless encampment on the streets of L.A., Cam—now sarcastic, streetwise, and thoroughly disillusioned—solves murders but repeatedly blows her cover, confounding her WITSEC handlers and the charismatic police detective who tries to befriend her. Named three times among the “Best Mystery Stories of the Year,” these tales, many of which first appeared in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, will have you checking the backseat and behind the shower curtain as Cam’s erudite, intellectual persona slips away and a cynical, world-weary woman takes charge of her own life—nearly losing it in the process. Bonus for Ellery Queen fans: this collection includes two new, never-before-published stories from the early days of the “librarian on the run!”

You can visit Anna at her website at: www.annakscotti.com on Instagram at @annakscotti, and at her Facebook author page at Anna Scotti, author.

And here’s where you can get your copy of It’s Not Even Past.

Anna Scotti was interviewed for Murder Books by Roger Johns

Typically, I use this blog space to discuss a historical trial that merits another look. This week, I’d like to divert from that path a bit. June 15^th marks the 810^th anniversary of the signing of the Magna Carta. We’ve all heard of it. The Magna Carta may be the world’s most famous legal document. Most people believe that it is the foundation of constitutional liberties for the Anglo-American world. The importance of the Magna Carta, however, may be both overstated and understated. Rather than focusing on a single case, let us briefly consider the Great Charter.

King John of England may have been the perfect foil through whom to embed a seed of a written constitution. In the 13^th Century, England included an empire on the European continent. When John lost the bulk of his French holdings, he made heavy financial demands on his subjects to recover the lost territory. Following a disastrous military campaign in France, King John found his treasury and reputation shredded. By most accounts, he was also cruel and heavy-handed in his governance. In June 1215, barons in full armor met the king’s representatives at Runnymede, a meadow along the Thames River situated between John’s castle at Windsor and the barons’ camp at Staines. To avoid armed conflict, the church, barons, and king hammered out a charter with sixty-three articles. The scope of the agreement was wide-ranging, but it included an assertion of baronial privilege. It installed the nobility as a check on royal power. The Magna Carta’s focus was on the relationship between barons and the monarch, and not ordinary subjects.

Historian J.C. Holt described the Magna Carta by saying, “[S]ometimes it stated the law. Sometimes, it stated what its supporters hoped would become the law. Sometimes, it stated what they pretended was the law.

The original Magna Carta remained valid for only a few weeks. Once the immediate threat lessened, King John renounced the document and petitioned Pope Innocent to support his claim that the king would not be bound by it. (The pope agreed.) The barons girded for battle, and a year of civil war followed. King John died of dysentery in 1216. His demise halted the conflict.  

Nine-year-old Henry III inherited the throne. His guardians reissued the Magna Carta to stabilize the country and to secure the peace. Another modified form was written in 1225 and read throughout the land. The document was republished several times. Although the ceremony remained, as the law-making apparatus of England became more formalized, the Magna Carta lost its practical significance.

By the 16^th Century, the Magna Carta had entered the realm of mythology. Many Englishmen believed that there was an ancient oral constitution of their land that had protected individual liberties. The Norman conquest, the legend said, tossed this unwritten compact. The Magna Carta represented the people’s attempt to reclaim their ancient heritage. History does not necessarily support this interpretation. However, the myth and legal thought were prevalent at the time when the American colonies were founded and continued through the formation of the U.S. Constitution. Alexander Hamilton referenced the Magna Carta in The Federalist Papers. Anglo-American reverence for the document is typically rooted in 16^th and 17^th-century interpretations.

I find it worth noting that the most famous monument at Runnymede was installed not by the English but rather by the American Bar Association.

There is little political theory in the Magna Carta. Instead, many of the sixty-three articles in the Great Charter are practical. Article 33, for instance, prohibits fish traps on the Thames and other English rivers. Article 35 requires one standard measure for wine throughout the kingdom. Other provisions, however, continue to resonate. The king could not levy taxation without the consent of the kingdom or deny, delay, or sell justice. Article 39 is the most famous of the sections:

 “No freeman shall be taken or imprisoned or disseised or outlawed or exiled or in any way ruined, nor will we go or send against him, except by the lawful judgment of his peers or by the law of the land.”  

At the time of drafting, the lofty language of the clauses was limited to ruling nobles and not applicable to the general class of English subjects. The document should be understood as a practical solution to specific problems existing in the 13^th Century. Its provisions addressed particular issues and were the result of lengthy negotiations conducted under the shadow of a looming civil war. Celebrants of the Magna Carta often overlook the fact that it not only served baronial interests but also reinforced social divisions. As a result, some argue that the Magna Carta should be dismissed as a feudal-era document.

On the other hand, it is worth remembering that the Magna Carta brought the king under the rule of law. The challenge to define the relationship between a nation’s executive and law continues.

Although designed as a fix for 13^th Century problems, the document has proven influential worldwide. With the above caveats, the Magna Carta was an attempt to establish, in writing, limits on the authority of the crown. The document embedded the monarchy within the universe of the other ruling powers of the country. It provided an early expression of the concepts of due process and habeas corpus, important principles in criminal justice. While it recognized a host of distinctions between social classes, it assumed legal parity among the group the charter recognized as free men. The Magna Carta served as a practical constitutional settlement to a time-bound problem. Yet, as constitutional lawyer Beatrice Mthetwa noted, it provided an inspirational and aspirational template for future constitutions and legal documents.

Constitutional law should be viewed as a process of incremental development. On the 810^th birthday (or a nicely round 800^th, if you start from the publicly read 1225 edition.), let us focus not on the shortcomings, but rather view the Magna Carta as a starting point in constitutional progress. At a crisis, the English began trying to avoid conflict by setting out in writing their relationship to one another. The march continues.

In May, Harvard revealed that a copy of the Magna Carta, purchased by the law school for $27.50 in 1946, had been identified as one of seven existing originals from King Edward’s reissue in 1300. Although 2025 may be viewed by many Harvard fans as a dismal and difficult year, this discovery should be considered a bright spot.

In light of Harvard’s recent discovery and the anniversary, the signing  of the Magna Carta is my trial legal event of the month.

Mark Thielman

Usually, I use this blog space to talk about a historical trial and what we might learn. This week, I want to go in a different direction. Severn River Publishing released my debut novel, The Devil’s Kitchen, on April 1^st. No joke. Stop now if you don’t want to read about my unsuppressed joy.

In 2016, my wife called my bluff. A new district attorney had been elected in my county. I left the DA’s Office without a real plan for what might happen next. On that day, she also became a former assistant district attorney. Always the braver and smarter of the two of us, she quickly found traditional employment, the kind that doles out regular paychecks and benefits. Then, she challenged me to pursue my writing dream.

I started writing short stories. Some of them found homes. (I thank Michael Bracken, Barb Goffman, and others for always making me sound more facile in my native tongue than I am.) Meanwhile, I also began scribbling away at novels. The first one didn’t sell. Neither did the second nor the third. You may see a pattern emerging.

It was important to me to keep trying. I love writing short stories, and I’m still thrilled when an email informs me one has been accepted. But to label myself a writer, I wanted to succeed in both short and long forms.

One of the books I wrote featured Clarence Johnson, a medically retired homicide detective from Fort Worth. No longer a cop, he works as a seasonal ranger in Yellowstone National Park, a pretty place to figure out what he is now. When a body is found at the base of Yellowstone Falls, Special Agent Alison Nance of the Park Service’s Investigative Services Branch enlists Johnson to assist in the investigation. She needs his experience, and he needs a cause. 

Meanwhile, I, too, stumbled back into traditional employment. The regular hours of my criminal magistrate gig made it far more conducive to writing than serving as an assistant district attorney. I still got to dabble in criminal law without the burden of disrupting and time-consuming trials.

The new job gave me some time to attend a few mystery conferences. I attended Malice Domestic for the first time in 2017. At that event, I met Bruce Coffin, one of the Murder Books OGs. He invited me to join the blogging crew. I’ve been talking about trials on this forum ever since. Conferences, like Malice, helped me make some friends and learn more about the craft of writing. I’m grateful for the opportunities they’ve provided.

Last year, I was sitting on the beach in Galveston, burning some vacation, when my agent emailed to say that Severn River would like to talk about my Yellowstone National Park novel. “When could we set that up?” Paula asked.

“I’m on vacation,” I told her. “I’m available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But that sounds desperate. Tell them I can move things around and likely be available at their convenience.”

Thus, I began another fabulous adventure. Like Michael and Barb before her, Kate Schomaker has continued to find gentle ways to point out my deviations from the Chicago Manual of Style. I love getting emails with possible cover designs. They ask me to comment on which option I prefer. (In truth, all I see is my name across the bottom).

And I really, really like the conversations when we talk about the next book.

The last decade has been an incredible journey that has only gotten better over the previous few months. I’m grateful to many people along the way, especially my family, friends, and fellow writers, who have continued to say, “You can.” I hope that I have the opportunity to thank each of you personally.

I’ll see some of you at Malice Domestic next week. Find me at the debut author breakfast. You’ll be able to recognize me. I’ll be the smiling guy holding the book with the shiny cover.

Mark Thielman

On December 22nd, 1984, four African-American youths (three were 19, one was 18) boarded a train from the Bronx to Manhattan. At least one approached a fellow passenger, Bernhard Goetz, a 37-year-old white male. Goetz pulled a handgun and fired four shots at the youths. He injured three of them. Following the initial gunfire, Goetz reportedly stood over one and said, “You don’t look so bad. Here’s another.” He fired again, partially paralyzing his victim. The subsequent trial sparked a national debate about crime and self-protection. The trial also included displays of theater and courtroom timing–good and bad. It is my December Trial of the Month.

Goetz had a degree in electrical and nuclear engineering from New York University. He lived in New York’s Greenwich Village and ran an electronics business out of his apartment. In 1981, according to Goetz, he’d been a robbery victim at another subway station. That time, he maintained that three young black males had shoved him into a plate glass door before knocking him to the ground. Goetz struggled with one of the youths. When the police arrived, both Goetz and the youth were detained. (The youth was reportedly released sooner than Goetz.) He subsequently bought a five-shot revolver on a trip to Florida.

On the day of the shooting, the youths rode the subway to Manhattan intending, they said, to steal from a video arcade. One youth approached Goetz and asked for five dollars. Although there was disagreement about the precise words, everyone agreed that the youth (Canty) smiled and used a normal tone of voice. In a statement to police, Goetz said another of the youths joined Canty.

After the shooting, the subway conductor appeared in the car. Goetz told him that the youths tried to rob him, and he shot them. He refused to surrender his gun. Goetz fled from the city to New England. He burned his distinctive blue jacket he’d worn and scattered the pieces of his gun through the woods. Nine days later, he surrendered to the police in Concord, New Hampshire.

Bernhard Goetz gave an audiotape interview to the Concord police. When two New York City detectives arrived, he also provided a video-recorded statement. Goetz said that he felt he was being robbed and felt at risk. When he drew the gun, Goetz intended to murder the youths and to hurt them as much as possible. He said that if he’d had more bullets, he’d have shot them again. Goetz, however, denied any premeditation.

The district attorney charged Bernhard Goetz with attempted murder, assault, reckless endangerment, and carrying an unlicensed firearm.

Jury selection began in Manhattan on December 12, 1986, and continued for months. When the trial began, Goetz’s lawyers conceded that he had shot the four men. Still, they claimed that his actions were justified by the New York self-defense statute that permitted deadly force when a person reasonably believes that another is about to use deadly physical force or is attempting to commit robbery (I’ve omitted the other enumerated offenses.)

Canty testified that he alone approached Goetz and that he was panhandling. Both sides presented forensic evidence to support their respective positions about the shooting. Several passengers on the subway testified that the shots came in rapid succession, undermining the since-recanted statement about standing over the downed youth for the fifth shot.

The press dubbed Goetz the “Subway Vigilante.” New York City’s crime peaked in the 1980s. The tale of the shooter who stood up to lawbreakers found a receptive audience among a scared citizenry. Some proclaimed Goetz a hero. Unspoken attitudes about race played a role in the trial as did prevailing attitudes about high crime rates and the ineffectiveness of the police to respond.

Some argue that the defense implicitly bolstered their racial claims through effective courtroom theater. The lawyers re-enacted their version of events using four muscular black males to stand in for the youths. The four men crowded the seated, thin white male. The jury (ten whites and two African-Americans) were made to feel the intimidation. The defense called the victims: criminals, savages, and thugs. Their evidence included a field trip to a subway car. The jurors could sense the claustrophobia of the enclosed space coupled with the absence of any available escape.

The prosecution, on the other hand, had theatrical miscues. Near the end of their case, they called one of the passengers who testified that he witnessed Goetz stand over the helpless youth and coldly shoot him. Then, they played the video recording from Concord. In it, Goetz declared his contempt for the city and its law enforcement. He compared himself to a vicious rat. Goetz’s courtroom demeanor was momentarily pulled back, and the jury saw something besides the nicely dressed, meek-looking, easily intimidated man sitting in the courtroom.

The prosecution then made the decision to recall one of the involved youths. He exploded under cross-examination, ultimately refusing to answer the questions posed to him. The judge held him in contempt and ordered his testimony stricken from the record. The victims lost any sympathy. They looked lawless and selfish. The emotional pendulum swung back to the defense.

Jurors began deliberating the case on June 12th, 1987. According to their post-trial reports, the jury quickly convicted Goetz of the weapons charge. It was impossible to deny that he carried an unlicensed handgun. To resolve the other charges, the jury had to separate a specific threat of robbery or of deadly force from a vague perception of intimidation or discomfort. On June 16th, the jury returned verdicts of acquittals for each of the assaultive offenses.

The New York of the 1980s was a different place than today’s metropolis. Times Square was a center for illegal drugs, sex trafficking, and crime. Good people didn’t go there after dark. A generation later, things are different. Or are they? Military veteran, Daniel Penny, was recently acquitted of placing a fatal chokehold on a threatening fellow subway rider, Jordan Neely. Penny was cast alternatively as a vigilante or Samaritan.

The case reminds us that the fear of crime is a powerful motivator in American society. Violent crime peaked in the 1980s. Had Goetz’s actions occurred a few years later, when the crime rate in New York City had fallen precipitously, the result may have been different. (Goetz, interestingly, claimed in a 2004 interview that his response forced New York City to address the crime problem. His actions, he said, were good for New York.) The case also points out that lawyers, like storytellers, need to know not only where to start a tale but also when and how to end it.

The Goetz case is a time capsule reflecting part of America’s past. It also retains continuing relevance. The case offers lessons on both good and bad tactics for lawyers. Bernhard Goetz’s criminal trial is the December Trial of the Month.

Mark Thielman

A California jury convicted Scott Peterson of the murder of his wife, Laci, on November 12th, 2004. The highly publicized trial raised concerns about modern scientific evidence and the complexities of the criminal justice system. It simultaneously pricked at classic issues about human relationships, betrayal, and the quest for justice. For myriad questions, both contemporary and timeless, the case against Scott Peterson is my November Trail of the Month.

Scott Peterson and Laci Rocha met as California Polytechnic State University students and subsequently married. In 2002, the couple moved to Modesto, Laci’s hometown. While she worked part time as a substitute teacher, Scott began a career as a fertilizer salesman. In late 2002, the couple learned that Laci was expecting their first child. They planned to name their son Conner. While his wife was pregnant, Scott began an affair with Amber Frey.

On Christmas Eve, Scott left the house to go fishing. Laci, reportedly, remained at home watching Martha Stewart make meringue, and had plans to walk the dog later. No one ever saw Laci alive again.

Scott returned home that afternoon. He called his mother-in-law and asked if she knew of Laci’s whereabouts. At approximately 6:00 pm, the Modesto police were alerted to her absence. Both Scott and Laci’s parents called the authorities. Nothing in the house appeared disturbed. The police found no evidence of a forced entry.

Scott’s calm demeanor during the initial stages of the investigation raised alarm bells with the investigators. He told them that he’d gone fishing although he could not say what he’d hoped to catch. He may have told others that he played golf on Christmas Eve. Investigators learned that Scott had gathered information about the currents in San Francisco Bay, weeks before his “spontaneous” fishing trip.

The police tip line received a call from Amber Frey. She said that she was Scott’s girlfriend. He’d told her that he was a widower and that this Christmas would be his first one without his wife.

In April 2003, the body of a male fetus washed up on the shore of San Francisco Bay. Later, the torso of an adult female was discovered by a jogger. DNA confirmed that the bodies were Conner and Laci.

The corpses had extensive damage. The medical examiner theorized that Laci’s missing wrists and ankles had been weighted. Submerged in seawater for months, the ME opined, the limbs and fetus had come loose. Newly developed mitochondrial DNA testing linked a hair on pliers recovered from Scott Peterson’s boat to Laci. A search of the boat also found a homemade anchor made of cement. While Scott told police that he used the remainder of the ninety-pound concrete bag to repair his driveway, police found circular rings in his storage facility consistent with five cement anchors. A search of San Francisco Bay uncovered nothing.

The police covertly tracked Scott’s car to San Diego using a GPS tracker. Suddenly, they lost the trail. Scott, it appeared,had switched cars.

Fearing he would flee to Mexico, the police quickly moved to arrest Scott Peterson. They found him at a golf course near San Diego with his brother and father. Scott had dyed his hair and beard. A search of his car located two IDs, $15,000 cash, clothes, camping gear, and four cell phones.Although Scott claimed to be living in his vehicle to avoid harassment, the police believed that his escape was imminent.

Scott Peterson’s trial began on June 1st, 2004. The prosecution lacked any direct evidence of his guilt. Instead, they relied on circumstantial evidence to support the theory that he murdered his wife to escape the dull life he projected if he remained with Laci. Amber Frey testified to her affair with him and offered recorded conversations to corrobate her claims. The government provided testimony about Scott’s inconsistent stories, his lack of demonstrable concern for his wife’s absence, and the evidence of multiple boat anchors.

The defense hotly contested the DNA. At the time, only about half the states admitted the new method for genetic testing. (Subsequently, it has become almost universally accepted.) The defense also sought to demonstrate that Laci had been to the new boat while she was alive. The government offered evidence that Scott bought the boat shortly before the crime, paid cash, and had told no one about the purchase.

Building material experts argued whether the driveway concrete was consistent with the boat anchor. Both sides clashed over the conditions in San Francisco Bay and whether it was reasonable for law enforcement to find the four anchors allegedly holding Laci’s remains.

The defense highlighted others who may have committed the crime. They raised the possibility of criminals working in the area. Peterson’s lawyers suggested that Laci had been kidnapped and subsequently murdered.

After arguments, the jury began deliberating. On November 12th, 2004, they convicted Scott Peterson of two counts of murder, for Laci and Conner. The punishment phase lasted into December, after which he received a death sentence. (The California Supreme Court subsequently overturned the death penalty but upheld the conviction. As a result, Scott Peterson was sentenced to life without parole.)

The jurors who commented after the trial, specifically mentioned Scott’s demeanor and calls to Frey. The lies he told and the location of the bodies also weighed heavily in their decision they said.

The saga of the Peterson case continues. In 2024, the Los Angeles Innocence Project was granted the right to perform additional forensic testing on some of the recovered items and permitted a review of additional evidence arguably withheld from the original trial. No results have come back from this follow up testing. Two 2024 television documentaries also reviewed the facts of the case. A website to free Scott Peterson is active online.

The prosecution of Scott Peterson used cutting-edge technology. It also relied upon classic police work–collecting inconsistencies and small bits of damning information. The case persists in the news. The most recent rulings occured in October of 2024. The storylines, however, remain timeless. Betrayal, infidelity, and tripping over lies have been the stuff of crime stories forever. The murder of Laci Peterson presents new technology and old motives, classic police work, and continuing media fascination. It is the November Trial of the Month.

Mark Thielman