It's a lot more fun to think of courts like you see in the movies, with the drama and stunning oratory conveniently packed into concise, witty, easily understood arguments. But, as I've explored in the past with People vs. Williamson and Williamson, there's a lot of downtime and bizarre moments involving lost pants and curse words.
For the past two days, the attorneys have gone through their closing arguments, which are usually the dramatic moments you see on TV. There were plenty of tense moments, but lots of oddball ones, as well. So here's something of a blooper and highlight reel, all wrapped into one convenient blog post:
Much centered around the trial's central phrase, "go get my s---," allegedly uttered by Alvaro Williamson to his son Jacques.
"When Alvaro Williamson said he wanted his gun, he didn't say, 'Jacques, I want my gun now. It's the one over there under the seat, because I feel threatened.'" Deputy DA Paula Gonzales said. "He says, according to evidence, 'Go get my s---.'"
This phrase, or slight variations on it, has come up over and over again. Gonzales argued that his use of 's---' as a replacement term for gun, likening it to "thingamabob". Since Jacques didn't have to ask what his dad meant, she argued that shows that the incident was preplanned and that the son shares in the father's guilt, even though he didn't pull the trigger.
Alvaro Williamson, for his part, testified last week that he said "What the f--- are you doing? Give me that s---," which makes it seem like Jacques got the gun of his own accord and that he snatched it away. He claims he then heard a shot, panicked and killed Filemon Ramos.
Williamson's attorney, Milton C. Grimes, gave a wildly ranging, theatrical closing, peppered with pregnant pauses and punctuated with laughs. At one point, he asked the jury if his client had behaved the way he did because "he's an a-hole."
Part of his argument centers on Alvaro Willamson's possible intoxication, saying this clouded his client's judgment when the shooting occurred. He asked the jury to imagine a conversation between friends regarding one's drunken actions, then acted it out, playing both parts.
"I didn't do that."
"Oh, yes you did, pardner!"
"Oooh, dang, I did?"
As Grimes was explaining the legal technicalities of reasonable doubt, he got ahold of a wooden pointer to help the jury follow along with his overhead projector presentation. Once that was finished, he didn't relinquish the tool, however, waving it like a swordsman and twirling it like a drum major. At one point, he used it as a stand-in for a rifle, punctuating his mock shots by screaming "pow-pow-pow-pow-pow!"
He acknowledged his histrionics before the jury, apologizing for for his courtroom flamboyance at the same time he indulged in it.
"It's not to say, 'I don't like either of these bald-headed guys, Grimes or Williamson,'" he said, reaching for the elegant handkerchief that he wears as a pocket square with his sharp suits. "'I don't like how Grimes is always playing with his little hankie. If he can't keep it in his pocket, he ought to leave it alone.' You can't hold that against Mr. Williamson."
Mark S. Shapiro, who's defending Jacques, also took a page from the self-deprecating playbook. He's had a rougher go of things from the beginning, all of which he acknowledged as he addressed the jurors. He admitted he screwed up by not offering condolences to the Ramos family and said he could be a better lawyer.
"I can't think of any closing argument I've ever made that was as important as this," he said. "And I'm scared. I'm shaking in my boots. And I'm not even wearing boots."
The two defense attorneys have an unenviable task, which I'll get to in a later blog post, because to protect their own clients, they've got to throw some suspicion on each other's. Given that they're father and son, it's even stickier. Shapiro argued that Alvaro Williamson, an ex-Marine, would have carefully watched over his firearms, not let his then-17-year-old boy tote them out of the house without his knowledge.
"How do Marines feel about their guns? They love them," Shapiro said, voice dropping almost to a whisper before rising to military volume. "'This is my rifle, this is my gun... blah, blah, blah, blah.' There is no closer relationship between a Marine and his gun."
For those of you unfamiliar with the reference, here's a learned discussion of the Marines' refrain. And if the court testimony hasn't had enough cussing for you, that article certainly will.
Shapiro, too, returned to the "give me my s---" phrase, but had an unexpectedly goofy moment that reinforced his "I'm just a humble guy" message, perhaps a little too well.
"I said," he bellowed, slamming his hand on the prosecutor's table, preparing to let fly. As he did so, Gonzales' laptop jumped and, rather than a forceful, "give me my s---," the jury heard some computerized noise.
"Oops," Shapiro grinned, apologetically. "I didn't know it would do that."
When he wrapped up, Gonzales took over again for her rebuttal. Mindful of Grimes' charisma and rapport with the jury, she started in by praising him.
"Mr. Grimes is a gifted and talented speaker," she began.
"I'm going to object to that," Grimes interrupted, cutting her off as she told the jury how great he was. "It's improper."
Judge Ronald S. Coen overruled him and Gonzales continued. Though she doesn't have his flair, she was also much more focused than before and offered a forceful tone as she began her final argument.
"It's talented speaking versus the facts," she said. "I know I'm not as talented, but the facts are the facts."
She's still got a few more things to say tomorrow morning, but I'm not sure if I can make it back since I've got a sentencing to attend in Van Nuys. So, instead, I'll leave you with a thought from Shapiro:
"This case is a tragedy, no matter what," he said.
That was the most truthful thing I've heard in the entire month of testimony and argument. No matter what the jury finds, these two families will suffer forever from the events of that summer night.
