The Pastor's Wife (25 page)

Since the state carried the burden of proof, Walt Freeland had one last chance to persuade the jury. “I'll let you decide whether improper attempts have been made to direct you by sympathy. I'll lead you back to the facts of the case, which is why we are here.”

He argued with Leslie Ballin's statement that this was just a circumstantial case and reminded the jurors that there was direct evidence, too. “As for her mental state, ladies and gentlemen, you take your good walking-around-McNairy-County common sense back in there about determining what that lady's mental state was.

“Now Dr. Zager testified, you heard her testimony. There's an old saying in the South, ‘Bless her heart.' Well, bless her heart.” He dismissed Zager's diagnosis, saying that the death of Mary's sister twenty years ago and having a bad marriage is not the equivalent of being in combat or being in a hostage situation. “I am in no way diminishing domestic assault. This is not a case of domestic assault. I'm with the state of Tennessee, we prosecute domestic assault.”

He reiterated his acceptance that domestic violence was a real problem, but he said, “Is it a defense for shooting your husband while he sleeps? While he's in the middle of the bed? Shoot him in the middle of his back with a twelve-gauge shotgun?”

He referred to the testimony of Dr. Zager again and
said, “I am not alleging this is not PTSD. I'm saying it's not post-traumatic stress disorder. This is Pre-Trial Strategy by the Defense.”

He suggested that Mary could have easily figured out what she should say to her mental health expert, and that Dr. Zager was “a true believer.” She was hypothesizing about domestic abuse before Mary and the children were even located.

“The whole world is watching, and that makes it difficult. It puts pressure on you that you shouldn't have to have. The question is, Will you do your duty? Will you follow the law? Or will you be swayed by improper arguments? By things that have nothing to do with the murder case?”

He told them that the custody case and the fact that the children went to Disney World had nothing to do with the murder case. “It had nothing to do with determining whether there was an intentional act and whether there was a premeditated act.”

He decried the introduction of diversions like the “dirty pictures, the shoe and the wig.” He said even if everything she said were true, which he suggested was not probable, “does that mean Matthew deserved to die? It does not. There was no immediacy there.

“…Matthew Winkler did not die accidentally, and it is insulting to your intelligence to suggest that it was.

“…At some point before she pulled the trigger, she formed in her mind what she would do.

“…I want the last two words that I say, and that are in your mind, not to be ‘Thank you,' which I do. And I don't want them to be ‘Poor Mary.' I want them to be about the fella who's never going to see his daughters graduate or get married or have another Father's Day with him. I want the last two words that you will think about to be: ‘Matthew Winkler.'”

The next morning, Thursday, April 19, Judge McCraw read off the names of the alternates and sent them home. He instructed the jury of ten women and two men before leaving them to deliberate the fate of Mary Winkler. The long wait began. Reporters and cameramen chatted in the media room, gave live reports on the air and roamed around aimlessly. The room had a constant flow of traffic. Judge McCraw dropped in, defense attorneys strolled through, law enforcement personnel leaned back and talked. But one arrival took everyone by surprise. His appearance merited an introduction.

Sue Allison got everyone's attention and presented McNairy County General Sessions Court Judge Van McMahan. “This is his courtroom and he graciously allowed the media to use it for the duration of the trial. He moved his offices downtown to the old courthouse, but he needs this room now for just a short while.”

Spontaneous applause erupted as the judge apologized for the inconvenience. He took his seat behind the bench, listened to testimony of a uniformed police officer and issued search warrants. Job done, he exited, thanking the reporters for their cooperation.

During the day, there were two verdict false alarms. One was generated by the jurors submitting a question to the judge, the other by the arrival of Matthew's grandmother. Media trailed her into the courtroom like blood-
hounds on a scent. But she just returned to pick up an item she had left behind.

The television reporters and their crews were all in front of the courthouse setting up for live shots on the 5 o'clock news when, eight hours after convening, the jury really did arrive at a verdict. The press tripped over one another swarming into the courtroom. They packed tight into the back rows.

An apologetic Sheriff Roten stepped in front of the eager group. The courtroom had to be cleared on orders of Judge McCraw. Everyone would have to be wanded before entry. The reporters plodded out and lined up for the security ritual.

The judge and jury entered at 5:25. Mary Winkler, flanked by her attorneys, walked in a few moments later, followed by Mary's family. As the door to the judge's chamber opened, the bailiff intoned, “All rise.”

Judge McCraw stepped up to the bench and took his seat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I understand the jury has reached a verdict. Let's bring them in and hear from them.”

The jurors filed into the tense courtroom, their eyes focused on the floor in front of their feet. When they all took their places, the judge asked, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”

“Yes, sir, Your Honor,” juror Bill Berry answered.

“Sir, are you the foreperson?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you please pass the sheriff your verdict, please?”

Sheriff Roten accepted the black notebook containing the documents from the panel and walked them over to the bench. The judge pulled out the papers, glanced at them and said, “Ms. Winkler, if you could stand, please, ma'am.”

Mary stood, looking dazed. Her eyes were vacant. Her hair was disordered with stray strands sticking out at odd angles. The cross on her necklace hung off-center. Her mouth was a thin, pale slash across her face.

“All right, ma'am. The verdict reads as follows: ‘We, the
jury, find Mary C. Winkler guilty of voluntary manslaughter.” This verdict was the least of the three possible felony charges. Mary faced a sentence of 3 to 6 years, with a required 30 percent of that time to be spent behind bars.

The judge polled each individual juror to assure that the verdict delivered was the verdict of all. Mary's expression did not change. She gave no indication that she even knew what was going on. Two rows back, her father Clark looked worried and confused, as if the verdict had no meaning. In the seats behind the prosecutors, Diane Winkler looked lost. Dan tensed and relaxed as he vigorously chewed the gum in his mouth. The silence in the courtroom was eerie. There were no immediate outbursts of joy or dismay in the small room. But, far away, in the studios of Court TV, everyone watching the proceedings let out a collective gasp.

The attorneys had a sidebar with the judge, where he determined that Mary would remain out on bail until the sentencing hearing. Mary swayed on her feet at the defense table. When Steve Farese returned, she whispered, “Does this mean I can get my children back?”

In the deliberation room, Judge McCraw met with the jurors to thank them for their service and answer their questions. He thought they'd want to know about what had happened since they were first cut off from the rest of the world. On the top of his mind was his awareness that the jury knew nothing about Monday's Virginia Tech shooting rampage that left thirty-three dead and many others injured.

With his thoughts on that tragedy, he was taken aback by the first question: “Who's the daddy?” At first, he didn't understand what was being asked. Then, chattering jurors brought the puzzle pieces together. The first thing they wanted to know about was the anticipated DNA results determining the paternity of Anna Nicole-Smith's baby.

 

Outside of the courthouse, Dan and Diane Winkler stepped up to a bank of microphones. Holding Diane's
hand, Dan said, “We wish to say thank you to our God and Father. He has been our rock and our shield.”

A reporter asked him about Matthew. Dan's eyes twinkled with repressed tears. “We're very grateful for the privilege and honor that was ours to be the parents of Matthew Brian Winkler, and we treasure the memory of the love that he had for his family, for his Lord, for his Church, for us as parents, for his brothers and for all of his extended family and for his friends.”

One juror expressed his displeasure with the verdict just two days after the trial. Jury foreman Billy Berry said he was surprised when the first vote was taken and he learned that many of the women wanted Mary to walk. He went into the jury room believing she was guilty of first-degree murder.

With those divergent points of view, the deliberations were stressful and often got very argumentative. He felt that the panel, to be fair to the victim, should have had more male jurors. He also said that he was not convinced that Mary's claims of abuse were even true.

 

Mary returned to McMinnville to await her sentencing. There, she dated Darrell Pillow, brother of one of her employers, whom she had been seeing since February. Now rumors emerged that Mary would soon marry again.

Her criminal attorneys filed for diversion. If granted, it would allow Mary to serve her entire sentence outside of prison on probation. At the end of the probationary period, it would then be possible for her to get her criminal record expunged—as if the crime never happened.

Between the time of the verdict and the sentencing, the child custody case raged in a number of different courtrooms. Dan and Diane Winkler filed for a termination of Mary's parental rights. After Patricia confessed her fear that, since her mother shot her daddy, maybe she'd shoot
her, too, Dan and Diane were even more staunchly opposed to any contact. Mary did not get a visit with her children.

 

On June 1, Mary's attorneys filed a motion seeking a new trial on the criminal charges. Many were stunned by their audacity—it was hard to believe they really wanted to challenge the verdict of the first trial.

One week later, everyone returned to court for the sentencing hearing. Mary sat in a chair at the defense table with downcast eyes and an expressionless face.

Walt Freeland first addressed the court citing the enhancing factors he'd filed for the judge's consideration: the victim was particularly vulnerable because of physical disability—meaning he was shot in bed while asleep; Mary Winkler used a firearm; she had no hesitation to commit a crime when the risk to human life was high; and she abused a position of private trust.

He called two witnesses to the stand. The first was Daniel Winkler. Although his face was fuller and his hair clipped shorter, he bore an eerie resemblance to his deceased brother. He said, “I have sat quietly for the last year and more, and watched. I watched the life of my brother be turned into a circus. The character of my brother be intentionally murdered just as his body was intentionally murdered. He has torn me, my family—and, Mary, your family—apart. And I think it is time for us to hear what Matthew has to say.”

“Do you feel qualified to speak for Matthew?” Freeland asked.

“Obviously, you can't hear Matthew's voice, because it's no longer here. Matt can't tell you what and who he really was. He doesn't have a voice anymore, so I'm going to do the best I can to tell who Matthew was.

“Matthew was a wonderful father teaching his kids how to play sports…played with them, read with them. Matt was a wonderful father.

“…Nothing hurts, to me, more than to see how much this hurts these little girls. After the funeral, Patricia was
in the back seat of my car and she was crying. She said, ‘Daddy won't be at any more of my birthdays. He won't come anymore to my softball games. I don't even want to marry if Daddy won't be there. I'm afraid I'll forget what my Daddy looks like.' That broke my heart.”

Daniel talked about a weekend he spent at his parents' home when Allie was the first one to get out of bed. “She sat in my lap, rubbed my face and said, ‘Your face feels like Daddy's. I miss my daddy.' Matt was a great father, and you can see it in the eyes of his children and how deeply they miss him.

“But they'll never see him again in this lifetime, because of your intentional act,” he said, looking at Mary.

He told the judge that Matthew was a wonderful brother, his best friend—the one constant in his life. “Matthew was a servant. He put others before himself. You could see that through all the lives he's touched, all the people he's helped, all the teenagers and children he helped do better and had a positive impact on their lives. Matt was a wonderful servant.”

He spoke of the pain of only being able to visit his brother at the cold cemetery. He told of his experience of comforting a friend at a family funeral and how that gave him a new outlook. Now when he looked at the grave marker, he focused on the dash between the dates of Matthew's birth and death, and knew that was what mattered, because it represented Matthew's life.

Then he turned to his brother's wife. “You have spent the last month and year, Mary, writing letters to people asking them to respond about you, to say something nice about you, something good about you. I never received a letter. I never received a letter of apology for taking away my constant, my best friend. So I don't see any remorse in your behavior. I don't see the love that you have so carefully explained. No matter how long you live, your dash will never equal the dash of Matthew Winkler.”

Diane Winkler took the stand next. She read an open
letter from her sister to Mary. In it, the harshest words focused on the lives of the three girls.

After finishing the letter, Diane voiced her own thoughts. “You've destroyed Matthew's memory. You accused him of being a monster. But of everything you accused him of, there is no proof.

“I wonder, Mary, how it is you want your children to remember their father? Your daughters loved their daddy and they loved you, Mary. They do not understand.

“…Your girls have nightmares at night. They dream of someone breaking into their home. They dream of someone with a gun. I don't know that you truly understand, Mary, the impact you've had on your children.

“…You know, Mary, this is a serious thing. You took another's life. And you had a choice…And you made it, didn't you? And it's a choice that you'll have to live with the rest of your life…You took his life. You took something from your children: their father. You took a son from us. You took a brother. You took an uncle. You took a best friend. And for there to be no remorse, no remorse ever shown to your girls, never written in a letter to your
girls—you never told your girls you're sorry. Don't you think you, at least, owe them that?

“You've never told us you're sorry. I think you, at least, owe us that. I think we are owed the truth.”

Steve Farese questioned Diane about the filing to terminate Mary's parental rights. Walt Freeland immediately objected to that line of questioning. Judge McCraw said he didn't need that kind of information to make his decision. The state closed its case.

After a short break, Steve Farese called Tabatha Freeman to the stand. Much of what she said was a rehash of her testimony at the trial—including the tearful delivery. In her plea for leniency, she told the court that she still needed her sister in her life—“she is the world to me.”

She also evoked the children. “She needs them and they need her. She's not complete without them, and they aren't without her.”

Paul Pillow, manager of Cleaners Express spoke highly of Mary as an employee. “She's done more than she's been asked to do.” He also talked of his fondness of her as a person. “Mary has a way of making you feel comfortable when you are around her…Mary is merry all the time.”

Rudy Thomsen said that Mary was “a very compassionate, very loving person.”

On cross-examination, Freeland asked, “You're not worried about Mary killing or harming anyone if she gets out?”

“No, sir.”

“You didn't have any concerns that Matthew would be hurt, did you?”

“No.”

Donna Dunlap, Mary's probation officer, spoke once again of Mary's good behavior. Arlington Church of Christ pulpit minister Wayne Cantrell spoke of her truthfulness, but admitted to the prosecutor that he had not known her long, and his judgment of her honesty was based on the fact that he never caught her in a lie.
Dr. Lynne Zager testified that Mary would need more psychological help, but she was not a danger to herself or thers.

Mary read a statement asking for mercy. She acknowledged the pain she'd caused and hoped her case would encourage others to reach out to those in abusive situations. She said she prayed for the Winkler family every night. She still did not tell them she was sorry for shooting Matthew, but she did say, “Any sentence you give me will not punish me enough.”

The judge prepared a twenty-four-page document outlining the reasoning behind his sentencing decision. His first words crushed the defense. “The court finds that the defendant is not a suitable candidate for judicial diversion, nor an appropriate candidate for full probation.”

Their worries lessened, however, when he granted her partial probation. He said he reached his decision by balancing the verdict of guilt on the charge of the lower class-C felony and Mary's lack of criminal record with the “especially violent, horrifying, offensive” circumstances of the crime.

He awarded Mary a 3-year sentence, ordering that she spend 210 days of that time in strict confinement. But, even that was softened. He allowed her credit for time served, and gave her the option of spending up to 60 days of that incarceration in a mental health facility approved by the court. When her days behind bars—from the time of her arrest in March 2006 to the day she was released on bond in August of that year—were subtracted from her 210-day sentence, there was a balance of sixty-seven days. The defense team was overjoyed.

If Mary's attorneys moved quickly to place her in a psychiatric facility, the most time Mary faced in an actual jail was seven more days—one week and nothing more.