April 1
TEXAS:
Texas DA murdered after pursuing killer bent on targeting lawyers
The murder was no mystery.
It was a shock, sure. People don't gun down assistant district attorneys in
broad daylight. Not in 2013. Not one block from the county courthouse.
When people heard about Mark Hasse's execution, they were speechless.
But when they did start talking, it was about who they thought did it - and
why.
"This case is local," District Attorney Mike McLelland told another lawyer
after Hasse's funeral. "The killer is somebody bent on revenge. This is
somebody really close to home."
Get McLelland alone, in his office, and he might even share the name of that
somebody.
But knowing it and proving it were different matters. And before McLelland's
suspicion turned into an arrest warrant, he and his wife were dead, too - with
the killer focused on new targets.
Kathryn Casey's true-crime book "In Plain Sight" tells that tale. But the
veteran Houston journalist tells another story, too, of good ol' boys and macho
rage, of madmen stockpiling assault rifles and survivalists prepping for the
apocalypse.
It's set in Texas of 5 years ago, but it feels like a lot of America now, where
suburban dads buy bulletproof vests and their wives gulp Oxycodone. Where
compromise is ridiculed and grudges carefully cultivated until they bloom into
bloody violence.
Looking back, the crimes seem almost inevitable, the killer and his principal
target - both stubborn, unforgiving men - coming together like a slow-motion
car crash.
Eric Williams grew up just outside of Fort Worth. A loner, he liked guns a
little too much, even for the Lone Star State. He once shot his sister's cat
right through the eye, but folks expected him to grow out of that.
They were relieved when he started talking about becoming a soldier.
Michael McLelland grew up nearby, just outside Dallas. A beefy, popular guy, he
married after high school and went to college with dreams of working as a
history teacher. Once on campus, he joined the ROTC and considered an Army
career instead.
The 2 men's lives didn't seem all that different.
Williams' military career never did happen, and he eventually moved to rural
Kaufman County. He married, became a lawyer, and then a justice of the peace.
McLelland did his stint in the service and became a Kaufman County lawyer, too,
planning to go into politics.
He lost his 1st race for district attorney by 65 votes. Some friends wondered
if he was done in by a letter to the local paper that questioned his character
and noted that McLelland lied about being a lifelong Republican.
The letter was written by Eric Williams.
Eventually, McLelland did become the Kaufmann County DA. And, eventually, he
heard Williams' name again.
This time, it was Williams' character under question. Office supplies he had
charged to the county were never delivered, at least not to the office.
Surveillance cameras showed him sneaking $600 worth of computer equipment out
of the building.
Small stuff, maybe - but not to McLelland.
He had Williams arrested, handcuffed and charged with theft. He told assistant
district attorney Hasse to go after him hard. Don't just put him in jail, "put
him under the jail," advised McLelland.
Williams was quickly tried and convicted. He lost his job and his law license.
His lawyers appealed, but his career was already over.
His plot, though, was just hatching.
This wasn't revenge, he told his wife. This was logical. If McLelland and Hasse
were dead, others would take their place. Surely their replacements would see
that he had been persecuted, not prosecuted.
Then he would get his old life back. But first, these 2 men had to lose theirs.
His wife Kim nodded numbly. Addicted to painkillers for years, she no longer
argued with her spouse - even as he slept with other women. Even after he
almost shot her as he cleaned his guns. Twice.
Assigned the job of getaway driver, she took Williams to the county courthouse
in a cheap second-hand car. It seemed too easy. Williams jumped out, shot
Hasse, and climbed back in. The couple ditched the car and Williams began
plotting the next murder.
The execution of an assistant district attorney stunned the country. The ATF,
the FBI and the Texas Rangers joined the investigation.
Though a few locals remembered the Williams trial and wondered about a
connection, the feds sought bigger monsters. Could it be a Mexican drug cartel?
The Aryan Brotherhood?
McLelland wasn't sure. He was prepared, though. An end-of-days believer, his
house was stockpiled with cases of canned food. He stashed loaded guns
everywhere. Whatever came, he would be ready.
But he wasn't ready for Eric Williams.
When the doorbell rang on the eve of Easter Sunday, Cynthia McLelland opened it
and invited the visitor inside. Williams shot her dead.
Then he walked into the hallway and killed her husband. The murders were done
in 2 minutes. Kim waited in another cheap getaway car.
It was all over. Or was it?
Williams wondered. He had other enemies, certainly. Like that old judge who
befriended him when he first came to Kaufman County. Where was he when Williams
needed him? He deserved killing, too.
This time though, Williams told his wife, he wasn't going to use a gun. This
time it would be a crossbow. He would gut the old man like a deer and fill his
belly with napalm.
When she looked shocked, her husband explained how he already bought the
crossbow and whipped up a batch of homemade napalm.
The murder of the McLellands only further convinced the authorities that
smugglers or skinheads were involved. The murder of a district attorney, his
wife, and a second prosecutor? There was nothing like it in U.S. history.
Local investigators remembered Williams' ties to the 2 lawmen. They tried to
keep the spotlight on him - although Williams needed no help in that regard.
He patrolled his quiet neighborhood on a Segway, armed and dressed in
camouflage. He fought with his lawyers, who told him to keep quiet. He gave
smirking interviews to reporters.
He finally became a little too talkative with detectives, chatting about the
different kinds of guns he owned. That led to a search warrant, and authorities
found an enemies list, with Hasse and McLelland at the top. They also found his
storage unit crammed with guns and ammo.
And, finally, what they found convinced a jury to convict Williams and his wife
of murder. He got the death penalty. She got 40 years.
The oddest thing discovered during the probe turned up on Williams' computer.
He was sending authorities anonymous tips on the killings all along, telling
them what kind of weapons to look for. He was helping.
Was it the same kind of self-destructive urge that had led him to steal
computer equipment from a room ringed with security cameras? Did he secretly
want to be caught? Or was it just his own arrogance, convinced he was smarter
than everyone else?
The detectives didn't know. Williams probably doesn't even know. And it's too
late to figure it out now.
(source: New York Daily News)
PENNSYLVANIA:
Philadephia's New DA Wants Prosecutors To Talk Cost Of Incarceration While In
Court
Philadelphia district attorney Lawrence Krasner is asking prosecutors to bring
up the cost of incarceration with judges.
Every day, judges around the country are deciding the fate of criminal
defendants by trying to strike the right balance between public safety and
fairness.
In Philadelphia, the new progressive district attorney has launched an
experiment. He's asking his prosecutors to raise another factor with judges:
the cost of incarceration.
The move has ignited a debate about whether the pricetag of punishment belongs
in courtrooms.
Do a little math
"Fiscal responsibility is a justice issue, and it is an urgent justice issue,"
Larry Krasner said at a press conference recently.
Krasner is a former civil rights lawyer who rode into office on a platform of
radically revamping the city's district attorney's office by opposing the death
penalty, stepping away from cash bail and seeking shorter prison sentences for
offenders.
He sees asking prosecutors and judges to grapple with the cost of locking up a
defendant as a stride fulfilling his promise of trying to fight mass
incarceration.
At sentencing hearings, when prosecutors traditionally talk about the impact on
victims and the community and the need for deterrence, they now will also have
to do a little math.
Since the average cost of housing a prisoner for a year in Pennsylvania is
$42,000, the prosecutor might say something like, judge, we are recommending
four years in prison for this person. And that will cost taxpayers more than
$160,000.
"A dollar spent on incarceration should be worth it," Krasner said. "Otherwise,
that dollar may be better spent on addiction treatment, on public education, on
policing and on other types of activity that make us all safer."
Asking prosecutors to tell judges the taxpayer tab of putting someone away is
unusual. If cost is mentioned at all, it would far more likely be cited by a
defense lawyer. Putting that responsibility of prosecutors has not been tested
much in the country.
In 2010, Missouri made a similar proposal, making cost information available to
judges, but it was not a mandatory consideration.
University of Pennsylvania law and economics professor David Abrams said
whether the move impacted the prison sentences judges handed down in Missouri
has never been studied.
In Philadelphia, Abrams said it may just force judges to ponder the societal
cost of incarceration a little differently, though he does not expect it to
have sway across the city's entire justice system.
"I think there are going to be marginal cases where the judge is somewhat
indifferent between harsher and maybe more expensive and slightly lass harsh
and maybe vastly less expensive sentences, where this will make a difference,"
Abrams said.
"Absurd, irrelevant, ridiculous, nonsense and horrific"
Not everyone in Philadelphia's criminal law world is embracing the news. Some
prosecutors say privately that they plan to ignore the guidance completely. And
one judge recently said he would hold an assistant district attorney in
contempt of court if the cost issue was raised again.
Richard Sax, for one, is not surprised. He spent more than 30 years as a
homicide prosecutor in the Philadelphia District Attorney's office before
retiring last year. Here is his appraisal of Krasner's new policy: "The words
that come to mind are absurd, irrelevant, ridiculous, nonsense and horrific,"
Sax said.
Sax calls the announcement a public relations stunt and said it is insulting to
victims of crime.
"It should have no bearing on whether a society, or a community or people who
are at risk of being victimized should be protected from a human being, an
individual," he said.
And some families of crime victims agree with Sax, saying it is impossible to
quantify what it is like to be the victim of crime.
Just ask Celestine Shorts of North Philadelphia. Her brother, Christopher, was
fatally shot last year. She said a courtroom debate about money would be
upsetting to her.
"When you voluntarily hurt someone, I think you should be accountable for your
actions. Was it only set to work if it's in the budget, or was it set with laws
or law? Rules are rules, we have a structure," she said.
Celestine Shorts' brother, Christopher, was fatally shot last year. She is
opposed to the policy and says a courtroom debate about money would be
upsetting to her.
In Krasner's estimation, that structure has caused America to have more
criminals locked up than any other country.
Krasner said input from victims and their families will still be considered,
along with public safety, the defendant's criminal background and the gravity
of the offense.
The money factor, Krasner said, is just an additional consideration.
Research, he said, has consistently illustrated that shorter sentences for
criminal offenders do not cause more crime. Instead, studies indicate that
certainty of punishment - not the length of time spent behind bars - has a
meaningful impact on deterring crime.
Defense lawyer Michael Diamondstein said prosecutors, in recommending
punishment to a judge, have an incredible amount of sway over a defendant's
life and liberty. The cost question will not please everyone, but he said it is
about time the criminal justice system experiment with something new.
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Diamondstein said. "The worst thing that
happens is that it makes no difference. But it may. It may make a judge or 2
stop and think what the actual cost is to sentencing someone."
With the help of money from the MacArthur Foundation, city officials have been
working for the past few years to cut the prison population with the goal of a
1/3 reduction. But individual decisions by a judge are harder to influence.
Krasner is hoping to give them a nudge.
And if it does shorten sentences, Krasner said he is confident it will not
spike violent crime.
"We are not concerned that this is going to produce a zombie invasion of
crime," he said at the press conference earlier this month. "In fact, we
consider it highly doubtful that people being arrested will even be aware this
policy exists."
(source: npr.org)
ARKANSAS:
Man Charged in Arkansas Fire That Left 1 Dead
An Arkansas man accused of setting an apartment complex on fire has been
charged with capital murder and arson.
The Sentinel-Record reports that Hot Springs Police arrested 22-year-old Rayson
Edward Clayton in connection to the Tuesday fire that killed 1 man and injured
others at the Polo Run Apartments.
A police affidavit says the fire occurred shortly after Clayton's aunt didn't
let him get his belongings from the apartment she kicked him out of a day
earlier.
Cpl. Kirk Zaner said Wednesday that police haven't identified the victim
because of the extent of his fire-related injuries.
Police say Clayton will be held at the Garland County Detention Center without
bond. He could face the death penalty for the capital murder charge or up to
life in prison for both charges.
(source: Associated Press)
USA:
Head of DOJ death penalty removed for promoting 'sexualized environment'
The head of the federal Department of Justice's death penalty unit has been
removed from his job after being investigated at least 12 times on charges of
sexism and favoritism, according to reports.
Kevin Carwile had helmed the group, which assists the Attorney General in
evaluating potential capital punishment cases, since 2011.
Current and former employees filed multiple grievances against Carwile and a
deputy for promoting a "sexualized environment" and for a pattern of biased
assignments that disadvantaged female subordinates, the New York Times reported
Saturday.
In one case, employees alleged, Carwile stood idly by as the deputy, Gwynn
Kinsey, groped a low-level assistant against her will - and then instructed
employees who witnessed the abuse not to speak about it.
The complaints against him began in 2013 and continued through last year.
Carwile had been bounced from his role as the head of the much larger DOJ gangs
unit as part of the fallout from the "Fast and Furious" gun-walking scandal in
2011.
(source: New York Post)
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