Killer Girlfriend: The Jodi Arias Story (10 page)

The absurdities would continue even inside the courtroom, where one day testimony turned to the tale of Snow White. LaViolette once gave a seminar called “Was Snow White a Battered Woman?” and Martinez ripped her credibility for it.

Martinez questioned her loudly about how she came to the conclusion that Snow White was abused, to which the defense witness replied that he was mischaracterizing her presentation.

The questioning and testimony only grew more bizarre as the days went on.

Martinez explained how Snow White was banished to the forest to live in horrible conditions.

“She lived with the seven dwarves and according to the Disney version, she was pretty happy,” LaViolette said.

“She lived in a shack, right?” Martinez snapped loudly.

“I thought it was a cute little cabin, Mr. Martinez,” LaViolette replied.

“Mr. Martinez, are you angry at me?” LaViolette asked softly at one point. Portions of the gallery erupted in laughter, and the judge admonished spectators to keep quiet.

“Do you want to spar with me?” Martinez yelled, continuing to question her about whether Snow White was a domestic abuse victim.

“I have no information about the relationship between Prince Charming and Snow White,” LaViolette said.

The two sparred for days as LaViolette bobbed and weaved around Martinez’s questions.

At one point, LaViolette, who counsels domestic abuse victims and abusers, lashed out at Martinez as he raised his voice.

“If you were in my group, I would ask you to take a time out, Mr. Martinez,” she said.

Outside court, Jodi’s trial became like a live daytime soap opera. But for many, that wasn’t good enough. They had to be there.

Dozens of people flocked to court each day, lining up in the early morning hours for a chance to score one of a handful of seats open to the public. The seats were provided on a first-come, first-served basis, and as the trial dragged on, the crowds only grew.

One week toward the end of testimony, a trial regular sold her spot in line to another person for $200. Both were reprimanded by court officials. The money was returned, but the purchaser got to keep her seat in the courtroom.

While there is no specific law preventing the public from selling their spot in line to get into the trial, Phoenix criminal defense lawyer Julio Laboy said it undermined the seriousness of the case.

“People lose sight of how very real this is,” Laboy told the AP, noting it’s a case about a violent killing that could send one person to death row. “It’s extremely disheartening, as if people were bartering to get into a Yankees game.”

The sideshow of the Arias trial was evident everywhere, even on the courthouse steps, where spectators would gather daily for a chance to catch a glimpse of the star of the show — Martinez.

At one point, as several dozen trial fans gathered outside the courthouse, they were elated when Martinez emerged. He typically took another exit, and would never use the front the door again, but seemed blown away by his growing number of fans, clearly caught off-guard.

Kathy Brown, 49, approached him and had him autograph her cane.

“I just love watching him,” she said. “I love the passion he has.”

The antics would later lead to a charge by the defense of prosecutorial misconduct. Two HLN staffers were even questioned in open court about what they had witnessed during the odd episode that seemed more befitting of a Hollywood red carpet event than a murder trial. The judge wanted to know if any jurors had seen the gaggle gathered around Martinez.

The trial moved on, and the social media world continued to blow up with all things Jodi.

Twitter became such a driving force behind the immense interest in the case that even the hometown newspaper, The Arizona Republic, didn’t publish stories every day of the trial. Instead, the paper’s regular trial reporter, a seasoned newsman named Michael Kiefer — @michaelbkiefer — spent many days just tweeting the minutiae of every turn in the case, communicating the daily happenings in real time with his growing number of followers around the world.

By now, just about every television network had at least one reporter or producer in the courtroom. ABC’s “Good Morning America” covered the trial remotely on a regular basis. The program even broke news from afar, obtaining hundreds of pages from Jodi’s diary during the trial.

NBC’s “Dateline” was there. So was CBS’ “48 Hours.” CNN aired almost nightly programs for a time, and HLN saw its ratings soar.

HLN programs hosted by Nancy Grace, Jane Velez-Mitchell and Dr. Drew Pinsky were all averaging nearly 700,000 daily viewers in April, with most of them tuning in to get updated on Jodi’s case. For Velez-Mitchell and Dr. Drew, their numbers were about double the ratings from the previous April. HLN’s daytime programs did exceptionally well, too, topping MSNBC among the key 25 to 54-year-old demographic.

HLN brought in ordinary Americans to fill out mock juries who decided various elements of the case. The network would go on to produce a dramatized re-enactment of the events that could have occurred in Travis’ bathroom the day Jodi says he attacked her, body-slammed her to the tile floor, and forced her to fight for her life.

A law enforcement expert played the role of Travis in front of a mannequin that was supposed to be Jodi. He picked up the figure and slammed it to the floor.

The station then turned to the expertise of professional wrestler David Otunga.

Yes, a professional wrestler was now providing expert commentary on a capital murder case.

“If you got slammed on a tile floor, you’re going to be incapacitated, definitely,” Otunga explained. “I mean, it hurts when we get slammed in the ring, but just on a floor with no mat, no padding. That’s going to be it.”

Not that Jodi could have watched the coverage on TV when she went back to her jail cell every night. She was housed at the Estrella Jail for women in Phoenix, where inmates dine on a stew-like concoction along with mashed potatoes, vegetables and bread — and they don’t have Internet access. Their TV selection before lights-out at 10 p.m. does not include HLN, either.

Adding to the increasing drama surrounding the case, three jurors were removed in the waning weeks of testimony.

Juror No. 5, a woman, was dismissed April 2 reportedly for making statements that showed bias. Just two days later, however, the woman returned to the courtroom as a spectator, stunning everyone in the gallery, including reporters, who later chased after her as she was led out a secret exit by a deputy.

Two other jurors were later excused, one for health reasons and the other because he was arrested on a DUI charge.

As if all the antics inside and outside the courtroom weren’t enough, Jodi was always there to provide more fodder to fuel the fire.

Video was released of Jodi singing during an “American Idol”-style competition while she was being held at a Maricopa County jail in 2010 awaiting trial.

The jail system here is run by Sheriff Joe Arpaio, the self-described “Toughest Sheriff in America” who made a name for himself with his trademark and controversial hard-line approach to illegal immigration and gimmicks like making inmates wear pink underwear and work on chain gangs.

But Arpaio also shows a soft side each year with the inmate singing contest over the holidays.

Dressed in a striped jail outfit, Jodi belted out a sweet, unaccompanied version of the Christmas classic “O Holy Night.” Sheriff Joe sat at the judging table a few feet away, next to a man dressed up as Santa Claus.

Jodi was up against men and women of all races, including an Elvis impersonator who led the inmates in a version of “Blue Christmas.”

When the performances were finished, the judges rendered their verdict: Jodi was the winner.

A night divine, indeed, just as the song she sang. The prize was a holiday feast for Jodi and her fellow inmates — turkey and all the fixings, cranberries, you name it.

“I appreciate your vote. Thank you very, very much,” Jodi told the crowd of prisoners. “I don’t have much I can give right now and it means a lot to me.”

Chapter 18

The Bulldog

“Can you imagine how much it must have hurt Mr. Alexander when you stuck that knife right into his chest?” —Juan Martinez

Maricopa County prosecutor Juan Martinez is a small man with a loud voice and an angry demeanor when he is ferociously questioning adversaries — sometimes even his own witnesses.

Outside court, he’s cordial and gregarious, and attracted a fan following who flocked to the courthouse each day for a chance to catch a glimpse of the man who hoped to see Jodi Arias join just two other women on Arizona’s death row.

He’s done it before.

Known as a bulldog with a never-let-up approach to prosecuting cases and questioning witnesses, Martinez won a first-degree murder conviction against Wendi Andriano, who was about the same age as Jodi when she poisoned, bludgeoned and stabbed to death her husband in the couple’s Phoenix-area home.

Much like Jodi, Andriano also testified in her own defense during her four-month trial, claiming she had been battered by her husband, and on the day he died, he flew into a rage and she was forced to defend herself.

Martinez, who has been a county prosecutor here for 25 years, the last 17 solely focused on homicide cases, portrayed Andriano as a greedy, cheating wife who savagely killed her ailing husband.

The jury took just four hours to find the killing so especially cruel that it merited consideration for the ultimate punishment. Then in just four days of deliberations after hearing testimony in the penalty phase, the panel returned a recommendation that she be put to death.

Martinez emerged victorious.

During Jodi’s trial, Martinez was at it again. Ferocious. Unstoppable. Unapologetically intimidating.

He shuffled across the courtroom floor, rarely staying at the podium or even in one spot too long. He snapped at witnesses after rapid-fire questions, followed simply by him saying, “Yes or no.” He raised his voice in anger when witnesses meandered, and objected at every turn.

He unleashed his wrath on the expert witnesses for the defense.

Martinez became the star, unusual in such a high-profile case.

It’s typically the flamboyant defense attorneys who gain notoriety as they work to get their client off and bask in the spotlight of all the publicity.

But defense attorneys Kirk Nurmi and Jennifer Willmott would largely remain a backdrop to Martinez’s dramatic performance. Nurmi, a tall, burly man with a crew cut, beard and a serious demeanor in questioning witnesses, stood in sharp contrast to Willmott, much more casual and gregarious in her approach. Nurmi was given the more uncomfortable assignments, quizzing Jodi and other women about their sex lives in a bid to discredit Travis.

While Martinez clearly was the main attraction, the trial elevated Nurmi, Willmott and Judge Sherry Stephens into national figures as well.

Stephens has been presiding over cases in the Phoenix area for more than a decade, following more than 20 years as a prosecutor for the Arizona Attorney General.

The judge provided much leeway to lawyers throughout the case, largely because it was a death penalty trial and she wanted to cover her bases. She kept a rigid schedule, often starting her day several hours before testimony began in Jodi’s trial, handling other cases on her docket. Testimony in Jodi’s trial was often delayed as the judge handled her other duties.

The trial typically began at 10 a.m., followed by an hour and a half lunch break, and then an afternoon session that ended at 4:30 p.m. Jurors also got one 15-minute break every day.

Stephens also ended up with a larger role than most judges because of Arizona law that allows jurors to directly question witnesses as a matter of rule. Stephens read each question aloud to witnesses, often in a monotone voice that resembled the tone of a schoolteacher. She would tilt her head down, her glasses resting toward the tip of her nose, as she ticked off one question after another in a detached demeanor.

Nurmi and Willmott had been assigned the case. Jodi couldn’t afford a private lawyer, so Arizona taxpayers would pick up the tab.

The longer the trial went on, the more the public outrage grew as the price tag to taxpayers ballooned. It is a right afforded to all citizens, but it is does not come cheaply when you are dealing with a trial that lasts more than four months and requires years of pretrial motions and arguments. By the end of the trial, the cost of Jodi’s defense exceeded $1.7 million. In addition, the case essentially consumed half of Martinez’s year — time he could have spent on other cases. Martinez makes about $110,000 a year. And he had Detective Flores at his side the entire trial, again time the officer could have spent on other casework. There are also jail and court costs associated with housing Arias and putting on a trial of this magnitude.

The defense costs included all sorts of billable hours. Their expert witnesses weren’t cheap, either. Alyce LaViolette made up to $300 per hour to tell jurors that Jodi was a battered woman. The other main defense expert made $250 an hour.

Chapter 19

The Prosecution

“I did not kill Travis” — Jodi Arias

The state called Detective Flores to the stand.

Flores, the lead investigator, ambled to the witness stand and took jurors through the bizarre beginning, not just the discovery of Alexander’s body, but the telephone calls he received from Jodi.

Jodi wanted to help. Anything the detective needed. Jodi was there for him. Who could have done this? she pondered. It was unimaginable. The detective, too, found it unimaginable. And after a while, unbelievable.

It was June 10, 2008, a day after Travis’ body was found.

Jodi called Flores and explains how she hadn’t seen her one-time boyfriend in about two months.

“I heard that he passed away, and that, I don’t know, I heard all kinds of rumors,” she said on the recorded call played for jurors in court.