Killer Girlfriend: The Jodi Arias Story (10 page)

Interest soared with each day of testimony as the public became virtual participants
with their own interactions through Facebook, Twitter and any number of websites,
including Wild About Trial, whose reporter in the courtroom spent hours on end conversing
with enthusiasts.

The year-old company epitomized the changing climate in which the public wanted to
consume information about such salacious cases. They no longer seemed satisfied with
sound bites on the evening news. They wanted to watch every second. They wanted to
interact. They wanted to be part of the action.

Entire online communities revolved around the trial. There was a Facebook page called
Justice4Travis that posted all things inflammatory about Jodi, and some really nasty
comments. The page had more than 41,000 likes.

Then there was
www.Jodiisinnocent.com
that advertised itself as “The #1 Jodi Arias Support Site.”

The Twitter page @KirkNumri was set up to mock the large defense attorney dressed
daily in loosely-fitting suits that hung from his large frame like drapes. Sites emerged
about prosecutor Juan Martinez, too, some attacking him, some heaping praise.

The Arizona Republic reported that defense attorney Jennifer Willmott had received
death threats, but declined to pursue police investigations.

A transcript of one voicemail left for the lawyer was provided to the newspaper during
the trial:

“You don’t have to return my call, but I’m just telling you: If Jodi, if you get
her off of the death penalty, we will find you, we know where you’re at, we will kill
you,” the caller said.

The newspaper also reported that psychotherapist Alyce LaViolette, a defense expert
witness who testified that Jodi suffered from battered woman’s syndrome, was being
attacked in phone calls, emails and over the Internet by people fuming over her support
for Jodi.

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.”

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.