Feb. 26 KENTUCKY: Suspect's family is putting up fight----Woman Was Raped, Killed At WKU Dorm In Owensboro, attorneys for Lucas Goodrum hired a criminologist, a former FBI agent and a crime-scene consultant. They paid for a sociologist to survey residents in 2 Kentucky counties and have subpoenaed more than 230 people to testify. When his trial begins Tuesday, Goodrum, charged with murdering and raping a Western Kentucky University student in 2003, will have the kind of defense more often seen in Southern California courtrooms than in Western Kentucky. >From the beginning, the murder of Melissa "Katie" Autry, has drawn attention across the state and nation. Goodrum's parents have worked inside and outside the courts to try to prove their son's innocence. His mother and stepfather, a grandson of the founder of Dollar General stores, have a Web site, www. lucasisinnocent.com, with videos of the family and court documents. They bought ads in newspapers around Bowling Green, directing people to the Web site and asking for help to prove that their son was not involved. Attorneys for Goodrum have twice gone to the Kentucky Court of Appeals to challenge decisions by circuit court judges. Most recently, Goodrum's attorneys asked the appeals court to move the trial to Louisville and delay its start until November, over the objections of the judge assigned to the case. In a 2-1 decision issued yesterday, the court denied the request. The other man accused in the killing, Stephen Soules, was represented by a public defender. Soules, an acquaintance of Goodrum's, pleaded guilty a year ago, avoiding the death penalty in exchange for a promise to testify against Goodrum. He explained his choice soon afterwards in a letter to a friend. "The District Attorney came to me and said Life or go to trial and get the death penalty," he wrote. "So my family was like go, take life and leave it in the Lord's hands." Over the next few weeks, jurors in Daviess County will hear from dozens of witnesses, including police investigators and jailhouse informants. Ultimately, the jurors' decision could depend on whether they believe Goodrum, a white man from a prominent family, or Soules, the prosecution's star witness and a black man who has already admitted his role in the murder. Dreamed of modeling Katie Autry was born in Rosine, in Ohio County. When she was 10, the state took custody of her and her younger sister, Lisa, and placed them with a family in Pellville, a Hancock County town near Owensboro. Katie Autry made the honor roll at Hancock County High and was a cheerleader. She dreamed of being a model, even though she was only 5 feet 2 inches tall, Lisa Autry said. After high school, Katie Autry headed to WKU to become a dental hygienist. She was fascinated with teeth, said her aunt, Virginia White. "Everybody was supposed to have beautiful teeth to her," White said. Autry liked school. She liked being on her own for the 1st time, said her mother, Donnie Autry. She seemed to be adjusting to college life and making friends. She worked at a snack shop in the student center, making milkshakes and smoothies. She had a 2nd job, dancing at Tattle Tales, a Bowling Green strip club. She worked there because the money was good, White said. "Katie wanted nice things, and she knew that she had to work to get them," White explained. Sometime after midnight on May 4, 2003, Autry went to a party at the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity house near campus. 4 hours later, a fire alarm went off at Hugh Poland Hall, sending gallons of water into the room where Autry lay. Firefighters found her in bed, burned and naked except for a bra and a shirt wrapped around her face. The 18-year-old was still alive, but barely. She died 3 days later at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. Soules and Goodrum were at the party as well, according to a motion filed by Goodrum's lawyers. They had arrived together and were longtime acquaintances. Moved around a lot Goodrum, now 23, began his life in Scottsville, a small town less than 30 miles from Bowling Green. Goodrum and his mother, Donna Dugas, moved around a lot, Dugas said in a phone interview this week. They lived in Louisiana, Florida and Texas, but returned to Kentucky for years at a time. Goodrum spent junior high and half of high school in Texas but decided to finish high school in Scottsville, where his father lived. He wanted to graduate with friends that he had known his entire life, Dugas said. After graduating, he returned to Texas and worked on his mother and stepfather's ranch, north of Dallas. The Dugases raise cutting horses and own a three-time world champion stud, Donna Dugas said. After about a year, Goodrum returned to Kentucky. He thought about going to college, but his girlfriend became pregnant and he married her instead, Dugas said. The marriage ended, less than a year later, with a divorce and a domestic-violence order preventing Goodrum from seeing his ex-wife. At the time of his arrest, Goodrum was working odd jobs. He had painted at Greenwood Mall in Bowling Green and worked at a factory, Dugas said. He was planning to return to Texas once he paid off a car loan and other bills. Goodrum was friends with Stephen Soules' brother, Daniel, Dugas said, but he didn't hang out much with Stephen, who is a year younger than Goodrum. Daniel Soules and Goodrum played basketball together, Dugas said. "When Daniel would go through rough times with his family, Lucas would take Daniel clothes and shoes." Soules' family could not be reached for comment. Suspect talked 5 days after the dorm fire, Stephen Soules told a state police investigator that he had had sex with Autry the night she died. "I didn't do that other s--t," he told the officer, according to a motion filed by Goodrum's attorneys, "and that's why I am scared and if you let me get some rest I will talk to you in the morning." The next day Soules told the investigator that Goodrum had come into the room after Soules and Autry had sex. He said Goodrum started touching Autry. When she resisted, Goodrum became angry and tried to smother Autry with a pillow before raping and sodomizing her, Soules told police. Based on Soules' statements, Goodrum was charged with murder. In a police interview the day of his arrest, he denied taking part in the crime, according to defense motions. "The night they came to talk to him, he didn't know that it had anything to do with this," Dugas said. "He did not ask for a lawyer. He did not know Katie Autry." On May 12, 2003, 2 days after Goodrum's arrest, a police investigator interviewed Soules a 2nd time, according to a motion filed by Goodrum's attorneys. He took the investigator to his grandmother's home in Scottsville and showed them where he had hidden Autry's jewelry in a block wall. Questioned again about the night Autry was raped and set on fire, Soules said that he had raped Autry as well, that Good-rum had raped her, then forced Soules to do so. That day, Soules was charged with murder, rape and robbery. Whom to believe The prosecution's case will depend on the testimony of police investigators and Soules. They will not offer physical evidence that ties Goodrum to the crime, according to a motion they filed earlier this month. Investigators found fingerprints belonging to Soules in the dorm room and his DNA on Autry, but tests for Goodrum's fingerprints and DNA turned up nothing. Three inmates will testify that Goodrum talked about the crime while being held at the county jail in Bowling Green. One of the men, Richard Norman Mealer, didn't come forward until months after he was released, according to a defense motion. In a different case, the executive director of Potter Children's Home, a group home for troubled children, wrote a letter to a judge describing Mealer's mental problems. "The difference between reality and fantasy, truth and lie are not very discernible by him," wrote Roger Wood, the director. In a letter to another judge, Mealer said that he was a compulsive liar. Prosecutors might also call Brandi Ramsey, a woman who says she worked with Autry at Tattle Tales, the strip club, and that Autry talked about Good-rum, according to a defense motion. But defense attorneys say they will call the manager of the club to testify that Ramsey never worked there. Family hires publicist As jury selection begins, Goodrum's mother will fly in from her ranch, along with a publicist, who is handling media for the family and supervising the Web site. Dugas said she wants the trial to expose the truth of what happened on May 4, 2003, in hopes that it will vindicate her son. "I'm doing everything in my power to make sure that my son has the best defense he can possibly have," Dugas said. She says that she is fighting for his life. If Goodrum is convicted, prosecutors have said that they will seek the death penalty. Autry's aunt, Virginia White, will also be at the trial, seeking justice for her niece. She regards months that have passed since Autry's death stoically. "Justice takes time," she said last week. "We want to make sure justice is done." (source: Lexington Herald-Leader) INDIANA: Wallace asks court to block autopsy With less than 2 weeks remaining before his execution, Donald Ray Wallace is trying to stop the Indiana Department of Correction from conducting an autopsy after he is put to death. Wallace objects on "moral, religious and practical" grounds, according to a lawsuit his attorney filed Friday. While the suit does not seek to delay or stop his execution, it could complicate arrangements for Wallace's remains. A judge will hear the injunction request at 9 a.m March 9 - just 15 hours before Wallace is scheduled to die by lethal injection. Wallace in 1982 was convicted of the 1980 murders of Theresa and Patrick Gilligan and their children Lisa, 5, and Gregory, 4, in their Evansville home. The family apparently surprised Wallace as he was burglarizing their house. He bound them and shot them to death. Having exhausted all his appeals after 23 years on death row, Wallace has declined to seek clemency. Through an attorney, Wallace and his sister, Kathleen Wallace Mason, filed suit Friday in LaPorte Superior Court against the Department of Correction. The Indiana State Prison in Michigan City, where the death sentence will be carried out, is in LaPorte County. Because the execution will be overseen by two physicians and observed by staff and Wallace's attorney, the LaPorte County coroner will have no medical basis to perform an autopsy unless the state requests one, the suit says. Wallace and his sister contend they will suffer "irreparable harm" if the body is autopsied. "Mr. Wallace and Ms. Mason view such action as a desecration and mutilation of his corpse, and such actions violate Mr. Wallace's right to an orderly and dignified disposition of his body following death," the suit says. It asks for a restraining order prohibiting an autopsy and requiring the Department of Correction to release Wallace's body to his family immediately after the execution. The department normally orders autopsies of executed prisoners. Though the cause of death is apparent, an autopsy is a protective measure in case someone later alleges prison abuse, department spokesman Randy Koester said. "The autopsy protects us from those types of claims and shows the proper procedures are being followed," said Barry Nothstine, spokesman for the Indiana State Prison. "That's why it's the department's stand to have those done." The motion was filed in LaPorte Superior Court 4 by Portage attorney Gary Germann. If Judge William J. Boklund doesn't rule immediately, it wouldn't delay the execution but could delay funeral arrangements. Diana Harrington, the sister of Wallace's victim Theresa Gilligan, had little comment about the injunction request. "This is a family decision and I think it's up to Wallace's family as well as Wallace," Harrington said. (Source: Courier & Press) MARYLAND: Death warrant signed for inmate----Judge sets period in April for executing man in 1984 killings; appeal is planned A Baltimore County Circuit Court judge has signed a warrant that sets the stage for the execution in April of longtime Maryland death row inmate Vernon L. Evans Jr., who was convicted in 1984 of the contract murder of a federal witness and a bystander. Judge Christian M. Kahl signed the death warrant Thursday, two days after the Supreme Court refused to hear the latest appeal from Evans, 55, who argued that he was wrongfully sentenced under harsher sentencing guidelines that took effect after he committed his crimes. The judge ordered that Evans be put to death by lethal injection sometime during a five-day period that begins April 18. "It has been 22 years since this crime happened, so, for a lack of a better term, this has been a long time coming," said John Cox, an assistant Baltimore County state's attorney. Attorneys for Evans said yesterday that they will ask the court to stay the execution while they appeal the death sentence, using a University of Maryland study that found racial and geographic disparities in the application of the death penalty in Maryland. "Maryland is about to execute one man when all [death row inmates] are affected by this study, and only some are being given the benefit of having the courts address it," said Julie S. Dietrich, 1 of 3 attorneys representing Evans. "It seems that something is wrong." Evans and drug kingpin Anthony Grandison were convicted and sentenced to death in the April 1983 killing of David Scott Piechowicz and Susan Kennedy at the Warren House Motor Hotel in Pikesville. Grandison paid Evans $9,000 to kill Piechowicz and his wife, Cheryl, who were to testify against Grandison in a federal drug trial. Kennedy was working for her sister Cheryl that day, and prosecutors said at trial that they believe Evans mistook Kennedy for her sister on the day of the killings. The two victims were gunned down in the lobby of the motel in a brief burst of bullets from a MAC-11 machine-pistol with a silencer. Grandison remains on death row. A death warrant is pending against one other Maryland inmate, Heath Burch, but that warrant has been stayed to allow the Prince George's County man to pursue one of several appeals in the works that focus on the University of Maryland study. University of Maryland professor Raymond Paternoster found that black defendants who killed whites were statistically most likely to be charged with capital murder and sentenced to death in Maryland. Black defendants whose victims were white were 2 1/2 times more likely to be sentenced to death than white defendants with white victims, according to the study. Evans is black; his two victims were white. Paternoster also highlighted geographic considerations in how the death penalty in Maryland is applied, noting that offenders who commit murder in Baltimore County are more likely to be charged with capital murder than defendants who commit crimes in other jurisdictions. Other death penalty case appeals based on the Paternoster study, including one filed by Wesley E. Baker, convicted of killing a woman at a Baltimore County shopping center, are awaiting court hearings. Dietrich said yesterday that she and her co-counsel tried to intervene when informed by county prosecutors that they intended to seek a death warrant for Evans. In a letter dated Thursday and faxed that day to the judge's chambers, defense attorney A. Stephen Hut Jr. wrote of the Paternoster study: "We would contend that it would be starkly unfair (and a further example of the arbitrariness of the Maryland death penalty regime) to proceed with a death warrant in this case while defendants ... throughout the state (and indeed, in this very county) are being allowed to actively litigate motions addressing this fundamental issue." It was unclear whether Kahl received the fax before signing the death warrant. Through a member of his staff, the judge declined yesterday to comment. (source: Baltimore Sun) MINNESOTA: Human rights lawyer volunteers to help clients in need Not long ago, Jeff Keyes had one of those moments of clarity, the type of freeze-frame in which you wonder where your life would have zigged if you had zagged. No, it wasn't when he was named "Lawyer of the Year" by Minnesota Lawyer, a weekly legal newspaper. It came as he visited a client on death row in Huntsville, Texas. Keyes, with the Minneapolis firm of Briggs and Morgan, was sitting across from Martin Draughton, who was convicted of killing a bystander during a robbery of a Houston fast-food restaurant in 1986. Keyes had heard the metal prison doors clang behind him. He was struck by the absolute absence of color in his surroundings. Draughton, on death row for 17 years, just wanted to talk about politics, current events and the life outside he knew only from public radio. He was intelligent, curious and polite. "Martin pointed to another inmate nearby and mentioned the guy was the biggest serial killer in Texas, like, 'There's a real bad guy,'" said Keyes. "It just struck me that Martin could have been sitting here in Zelos (restaurant, in Minneapolis), wearing a suit, if things had gone a little differently. I recognized what a blessed life I've led, all the opportunities I've had, and how my mistakes have been washed over. Not to discount the darkness inside of him, but I recognized our similarities rather than our differences." Keyes is one of 600 volunteer members, about 350 of them lawyers, of Minnesota Advocates for Human Rights. They defend people who otherwise couldn't afford quality representation and who often are considered unworthy of sympathy, if not reprehensible. The struggles of these people may be personal, but their cases often have larger consequences for society. Draughton's was one of two huge cases that Keyes tackled this fall. The other case, involving an effort to deport a Somali man, has international implications for immigrants. Robin Phillips, executive director of Minnesota Advocates for Human Rights, called the work remarkable. "Jeff is an amazingly talented lawyer, and he's become a champion of human rights," she said. "He's given thousands of hours pro bono to these cases, and he's a real role model to young lawyers, showing how they can use their skills to do good work." In late September, the U.S. District Court in Texas threw out Draughton's death sentence after Keyes successfully argued that Draughton did not get proper representation. Keyes' expert witness testified that the bullet that killed the victim had ricocheted, meaning Draughton did not intend to kill, one of the requirements for the death sentence in Texas. A competent lawyer should have presented the same information, Keyes argued. The courts will have to try Draughton on a lesser crime, or release him. On Oct. 12, Keyes represented Somalian immigrant Keyse Jama before the U.S. Supreme Court in a case that has broad ramifications for more than 4,000 Somalis being held and awaiting possible deportation, and more incidentally the estimated 25,000 Somalis in Minnesota. "The Jama case has national significance because we are challenging the policy of the U.S. government," Phillips said. "That has taken on added significance since 9/11 as the need grows to make sure everyone's civil rights are protected." Jama had served time for a 3rd-degree assault in Waseca, Minn., in 1999. But shortly after his release, the Immigration and Naturalization Service detained him and attempted to send him back to Somalia. A district court in Minneapolis blocked the attempt, but then a divided Eighth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled to allow the deportation. So the case went to the U.S. Supreme Court. Keyes and fellow Briggs and Morgan attorney Kevin Magnuson argued that it is illegal for immigration officials to deport someone to a country where there is no formal government. Somalia has been in a state of anarchy since civil war broke out in 1991. A State Department lawyer countered that U.S. law does not specify the United States' need to get prior acceptance from a country to which a person is being deported. That argument prevailed. Last month, the Supreme Court ruled 5-4 against Keyes and Jama, saying Somali refugees can be deported even though their native country has no formal government. Jama, interviewed in jail after he learned of the decision, said he was thankful to have had his day in court and was anxious to get out of detention, even if it meant returning to the uncertainty of modern-day Somalia. "We're sorry that it happened that way," said Saeed Fahia, executive director of the Confederation of Somali Communities of Minnesota. The case "shows that the legal system in this country is very strong and meaningful, that it can accommodate almost everybody. I'm just sad that he was not accepted to stay. My feeling is that he would have been an upstanding citizen." Jama, now 26, has not been to Somalia since he was 11, Keyes said, and has no connections there. "There is not even a customs at the airport, so he would likely be met by warlords who would take his money and escort him into the city. His American upbringing would make him a target and suspected of being a spy," he added. The underlying issue, Keyes said, is an attempt to expand the federal government's powers to deport people. "Do I sound like I trust them (to do that fairly)? No." Jama remains in jail. He does not know when he will be deported. Jeff Keyes was not your typical kid. His father was a New York City clothing salesman with a ninth-grade education, and Keyes wanted to be a lawyer from the age of 12. He was fascinated by "Perry Mason" and other legal shows on TV. "I watched him in court and I just thought, 'What an amazing thing to do.'" Keyes' family couldn't afford to pay for his college, but through scholarships and other aid, he graduated from Notre Dame in 1968, then received a law degree from the University of Michigan in 1972. Although he was influenced by and participated in the civil rights movement, he chose the seemingly arcane field of business and trade litigation, antitrust and franchise law. Keyes was drawn not only to the challenge of translating complicated business problems for judges and juries, but to the complex, sometimes contradictory people he met in the business world. "All the drama posed in a civil rights case is present in every business case," said Keyes. "There is human frailty, banality, greed, noble deeds and dreams. The most mundane base of a contract case is fraught with human drama and revolves around human nature." While he can understand how poverty or drug addiction could lead someone to steal from a store, for example, he's more intrigued by why successful, wealthy people steal. One such case involved an employee charged with embezzling more than $13 million from Irwin Jacobs' Lund Boats over several years' time. Keyes earns a good living from those kinds of cases, but laughs when asked if he takes pro bono civil rights cases to assuage guilt. "In a sense it's kind of selfish to do that kind of case," he says, because you're "taking the exact same set of skills and getting great satisfaction out of applying them to a very different kind of case." The opportunity to create nationally noticed or precedent-setting cases does lure the ego, he admits. But while attorneys have to keep the larger issue in mind, they can never lose sight of the individual. "With a corporate client, they often come to be your friends," said Keyes. "You share the same interests and backgrounds." Pro bono cases usually put Keyes into contact with people he wouldn't normally meet. "You have to keep professional distance, but you get to know them very well," he said. "And the more time you spend, the more you get to see them, and yourself, in a true light." Successful people tend to see the world in 2 ways, Keyes says. They either look disdainfully at those who haven't succeeded, or they acknowledge they made it with a combination of drive, luck and help. Keyes believes the latter: "I had a lot of people who gave me breaks; most of the (pro bono cases) I deal with don't." He is acutely aware that he is fighting for people who get very little sympathy. "But it's sometimes important that you don't have the perfect, most sympathetic client," Keyes said. "Because if you win with an unsympathetic client, you have battled and convinced a jury of the idea at stake." Keyes says he's against the death penalty because he's from a liberal Roman Catholic family that believes in peace and justice. He also knows how often the courts can be wrong. "I think as a civil society, we shouldn't be taking a human life. I also don't think it's effective in deterring crime." Though retirement is in the distance, Keyes, 58, is already preparing himself to avoid the "Bill Clinton, what should I do with my life" routine. "I see so many people where law is their whole life. They become bad golfers and don't stay engaged." So, he's taking theology courses to "engage in a real debate about meaning and life." A lifelong fan of the theater, and current board chair of the Playwrights Center, he also has written plays. But when asked about his skill as a writer, Keyes says, "Let's put it this way, I should be a lawyer." (source : Associated Press)
