EPISODE 5:
"THE LAST PERSON TO SEE TERESA ALIVE"
My biggest takeaway so far in Episode 5? The testimony of Ryan Hillegas and the manner in which he gave it, raises significant questions in my mind about his involvement in this case.
First and foremost, Hillegas admits to hacking into Teresa's cellphone records (and likely her voicemail) by "guessing" her password. This claim is astounding and troubling. Guessing a password? How often does that really happen? Maybe I wouldn't be so bothered if he had a reasonable explanation of how he came to guess it. But when asked what the password was and how he came to decipher it, he couldn't remember either. He stumbled over something having to do with Halbach's sister. I would postulate that if Hillegas had been clever enough to to guess Teresa's password at a time of great need, and so quickly, he would be a minor hero, and certainly would have remembered how he accomplished it, and maybe the password itself. I think there might have even been a little bit of pride in him about the accomplishment. Instead, in court, he dismissed this Rubik's Cube achievement as an everyday thing.
To me, guessing a person's phone password--in such a timely manner, (absent some reasonable explanation) is highly suspicious. I do not believe that Hillegas has adequately explained how he divined Teresa's password. I may not believe that Hillegas guessed Teresa's password, but I do believe that he had access to Teresa's phone account.
First and foremost, Hillegas admits to hacking into Teresa's cellphone records (and likely her voicemail) by "guessing" her password. This claim is astounding and troubling. Guessing a password? How often does that really happen? Maybe I wouldn't be so bothered if he had a reasonable explanation of how he came to guess it. But when asked what the password was and how he came to decipher it, he couldn't remember either. He stumbled over something having to do with Halbach's sister. I would postulate that if Hillegas had been clever enough to to guess Teresa's password at a time of great need, and so quickly, he would be a minor hero, and certainly would have remembered how he accomplished it, and maybe the password itself. I think there might have even been a little bit of pride in him about the accomplishment. Instead, in court, he dismissed this Rubik's Cube achievement as an everyday thing.
To me, guessing a person's phone password--in such a timely manner, (absent some reasonable explanation) is highly suspicious. I do not believe that Hillegas has adequately explained how he divined Teresa's password. I may not believe that Hillegas guessed Teresa's password, but I do believe that he had access to Teresa's phone account.
Interestingly, when asked if he had seen Teresa on the weekend of October 29 and 30th, he said, with apparently intentional vagueness,
"I didn't talk to her on Saturday, I don't think so."
That wasn't the full question. When he said that, he knew with certainty that he had seen Teresa. He didn't say "I saw her Sunday," or "Just Sunday," or "Not on Saturday, but Sunday." His failure to mention Sunday was intentional. He wasn't cut off by a defense question. No, I believe that he was hoping that the fact that he would not be asked if he was with Teresa on Sunday. When forced to admit the Sunday visit, he said that the reason he was there, was to drop "something" off for Scott. Surprisingly vague. It is amazing how when Hillegas was being questioned by the prosecutor, Ken Kratz, his answers were clear, immediate, and detailed. When he was answering Kratz' questions, he spoke with ease, was comfortable, and even smiled. He made eye contact constantly.
But when he began to answer the defense's questions, he became forgetful, vague and his answers became brief and cryptic. His physical demeanor also starkly changed. Some might say that being questioned by the defense is stressful for a prosecution witness. I get that. But I have observed that when a person is on the witness stand, they frequently begin uncomfortable, but get more and more comfortable as they get used to their situation. In this case, however, Hillegas appeared to get more nervous the longer he remained on the witness stand.
"I didn't talk to her on Saturday, I don't think so."
That wasn't the full question. When he said that, he knew with certainty that he had seen Teresa. He didn't say "I saw her Sunday," or "Just Sunday," or "Not on Saturday, but Sunday." His failure to mention Sunday was intentional. He wasn't cut off by a defense question. No, I believe that he was hoping that the fact that he would not be asked if he was with Teresa on Sunday. When forced to admit the Sunday visit, he said that the reason he was there, was to drop "something" off for Scott. Surprisingly vague. It is amazing how when Hillegas was being questioned by the prosecutor, Ken Kratz, his answers were clear, immediate, and detailed. When he was answering Kratz' questions, he spoke with ease, was comfortable, and even smiled. He made eye contact constantly.
But when he began to answer the defense's questions, he became forgetful, vague and his answers became brief and cryptic. His physical demeanor also starkly changed. Some might say that being questioned by the defense is stressful for a prosecution witness. I get that. But I have observed that when a person is on the witness stand, they frequently begin uncomfortable, but get more and more comfortable as they get used to their situation. In this case, however, Hillegas appeared to get more nervous the longer he remained on the witness stand.
For example: When asked about the password, Hillegas began looking away before he answered. His answers evolved rapidly from detailed explanations to equivocal conjecture. His lips seemed pursed to the point that they were losing color at times. His cheekbones and ears became red. He shrugged his shoulders and looked away repeatedly, and his nostrils flared, indicating his breathing had increased, though his mouth was closed. It appeared that he was attempting to camouflage the fact that he was breathing harder. None of this, however, is admissible.
He admitted that he had never been asked by the police about his alibi, but then surprisingly, didn't offer one to the court. Nor, apparently, did the prosecutor ask about his alibi (as far as I can tell based on my limited exposure.)
Hillegas also said that he was not treated as a suspect by the sheriff's department, which was evidenced by the department(s) allowing him to pass police lines, and therefore possibly, enter crime scenes. If he is a potential suspect, why would they let him inside the crime scene? That is incomprehensible. Then, it turns out that the police also allowed Hillegas and Bloedorn to lead and coordinate the citizens search around the area. This impacts so many aspects of the case it's hard to list them all. If allowed into a crime scene, or to search for "evidence," an actual killer would have the opportunity to remove, plant or manipulate evidence. It would also give the killer insight into what investigators were doing, and nullify any chance of using unique "culpable knowledge" of the crime as evidence.
In a real investigation, Hillegas and Bloedorn would still have been prime suspects. Yet the sheriff's department was willing to let them search for "evidence?" Allow them into police-only areas? Incredible.
He admitted that he had never been asked by the police about his alibi, but then surprisingly, didn't offer one to the court. Nor, apparently, did the prosecutor ask about his alibi (as far as I can tell based on my limited exposure.)
Hillegas also said that he was not treated as a suspect by the sheriff's department, which was evidenced by the department(s) allowing him to pass police lines, and therefore possibly, enter crime scenes. If he is a potential suspect, why would they let him inside the crime scene? That is incomprehensible. Then, it turns out that the police also allowed Hillegas and Bloedorn to lead and coordinate the citizens search around the area. This impacts so many aspects of the case it's hard to list them all. If allowed into a crime scene, or to search for "evidence," an actual killer would have the opportunity to remove, plant or manipulate evidence. It would also give the killer insight into what investigators were doing, and nullify any chance of using unique "culpable knowledge" of the crime as evidence.
In a real investigation, Hillegas and Bloedorn would still have been prime suspects. Yet the sheriff's department was willing to let them search for "evidence?" Allow them into police-only areas? Incredible.
Where does the search start? At the Avery auto recycling yard. What a coincidence! They sent Pam and Nicole Sturm (cousins of Teresa) into the yard to search 40 acres filled with thousands of cars. Sounds like an impossible task. Incredibly, however, they start their search within several hundred yards of the actual car. They then searched in a direct line towards that car. Think about the odds of that. They started close to the car, then searched in a straight line toward the RAV4. They found it within 30 minutes. 30 minutes! It's as if they were 'drawn' to the car. Those are two incredible coincidences! Add that to Hillegas guessing Teresa's cellphone password, and the odds of all three things happening are astronomical. We're talking about near-clairvoyant knowledge. Finally, what are the odds that of all the searchers, only Sturm and her daughter were given a camera?
How did Sturm find the RAV4? She said that God showed her. I am someone who believes that God occasionally does things like that. I also believe, however, that people sometimes give God credit for involvement in endeavors he would have nothing to do with.
How did Sturm find the RAV4? She said that God showed her. I am someone who believes that God occasionally does things like that. I also believe, however, that people sometimes give God credit for involvement in endeavors he would have nothing to do with.
PROSECUTORIAL ACTS
Exclusionary Hearing:
Before any trial starts, all sides have the right to know who is going to testify in trial, and to what what they are going to testify. Yet a week before Avery's trial, the prosecution had inexplicably failed to give notice to the defense whether Brendan Dassey would or would not be testifying in trial. This has nothing to do with evidence, it's gamesmanship. This is also the strongest indication I have seen that the prosecution knows that the interrogation of Dassey would be easily disassembled by the defense, and that his confession was not likely at all to help them in trial. Otherwise, he would've been their first witness.
Exclusionary Hearing:
Before any trial starts, all sides have the right to know who is going to testify in trial, and to what what they are going to testify. Yet a week before Avery's trial, the prosecution had inexplicably failed to give notice to the defense whether Brendan Dassey would or would not be testifying in trial. This has nothing to do with evidence, it's gamesmanship. This is also the strongest indication I have seen that the prosecution knows that the interrogation of Dassey would be easily disassembled by the defense, and that his confession was not likely at all to help them in trial. Otherwise, he would've been their first witness.
Brendan Dassey was simply being used as a bargaining tool by the prosecution against the defense and judge. I was slack jawed to hear the prosecutor tell the judge that if a pretrial instruction was given, curative of the publications about Dassey's charges, then they would charge Dassey.
What was the jury instruction the prosecution feared? It was an order from the judge requiring that jurors disregard anything they heard in the press about Dassy, and that Dassey's alleged confession could not be considered in their deliberations about Avery's guilt. What the prosecution wanted, of course, was to be able to avoid Dassey's 'confession' being challenged in court, yet still have his allegations considered by the jury.
Such an instruction would cause the prosecution some serious problems. Because if Dassey did not testify, and the jury was given the curative instruction, then no testimony by Dassey was forthcoming, the jury could very responsibly come to the conclusion that had the confession been true and reliable, Dassey would have testified. It would essentially render Dassey's confession false to the jury. The prosecution, therefore, would have to have Dassey testify in order for that curative instruction not to be a ball and chain for the prosecution.
The prosecution's threat to charge Dassey if the jury instruction was given was a cynical quid pro quo. I found it frightening that Kratz complained that the jury instruction would have the prosecution "swimming upstream" at the outset of the trial. Defense attorney Dean Strang's response was something that should be required reading for law students:
"The state," he said, "Is supposed to be swimming upstream." The presumption of innocence, he argued, was absolutely necessary for anybody to get a fair trial. For the state to complain that they were not on even ground, is to misunderstand the American legal system. One might as well rage against the blueness of the sky.
Remember, a lot of people don't understand that when a trial starts, the jury is not allowed to be unsure of whether the defendant is guilty. Before the first words of the trial are uttered, the jury must, must, consider the defendant in the courtroom an innocent man. The defendant is not someone about whom no decision about guilt or innocence has been made; he or she is legal innocent. If the prosecution fails to show a compelling case against the defendant, the person is simply innocent.
What was the jury instruction the prosecution feared? It was an order from the judge requiring that jurors disregard anything they heard in the press about Dassy, and that Dassey's alleged confession could not be considered in their deliberations about Avery's guilt. What the prosecution wanted, of course, was to be able to avoid Dassey's 'confession' being challenged in court, yet still have his allegations considered by the jury.
Such an instruction would cause the prosecution some serious problems. Because if Dassey did not testify, and the jury was given the curative instruction, then no testimony by Dassey was forthcoming, the jury could very responsibly come to the conclusion that had the confession been true and reliable, Dassey would have testified. It would essentially render Dassey's confession false to the jury. The prosecution, therefore, would have to have Dassey testify in order for that curative instruction not to be a ball and chain for the prosecution.
The prosecution's threat to charge Dassey if the jury instruction was given was a cynical quid pro quo. I found it frightening that Kratz complained that the jury instruction would have the prosecution "swimming upstream" at the outset of the trial. Defense attorney Dean Strang's response was something that should be required reading for law students:
"The state," he said, "Is supposed to be swimming upstream." The presumption of innocence, he argued, was absolutely necessary for anybody to get a fair trial. For the state to complain that they were not on even ground, is to misunderstand the American legal system. One might as well rage against the blueness of the sky.
Remember, a lot of people don't understand that when a trial starts, the jury is not allowed to be unsure of whether the defendant is guilty. Before the first words of the trial are uttered, the jury must, must, consider the defendant in the courtroom an innocent man. The defendant is not someone about whom no decision about guilt or innocence has been made; he or she is legal innocent. If the prosecution fails to show a compelling case against the defendant, the person is simply innocent.
Watching both the exclusionary hearing and the trial, it appeared to me that Kratz was behaving like an individual who didn't have the evidence to convict on a fair playing field. He reminded me of a football coach going into a game knowing that his team was outmatched in every way. So how does a team like that win the game? Well, some use underhanded tactics like holding, pass interference, or anything they can get away with. And, they are can utilize trick plays. In this trial, Ken Kratz used both; trick plays and underhanded tactics.
As soon as his opening argument, I saw an immediate, very clever ploy by Kratz. He put a photograph up on the big screen of Teresa Halbach, next to a photograph of Steven Avery. I don't know if Kratz knows the official term for what he was doing, but it was an attempt at something called "imprinting." What that photo did was put in the minds of the jurors the face of Steven Avery next to the face of Teresa Halbach every time they visualize her. This is the kind of trick that advertising firms have exploited for decades.
Another thing the Kratz did in his opening statement was to overly inflate the emotional portion of the case. He talked about Halbach's bones not as 'Teresa's bones,' but as the "...tibia of Karen Halbach's daughter." Yes, I get it, Ken, you want everybody to be outraged about the death of Teresa Halbach. But we already were. What Kratz was trying to do was take the anger and horror of Halbach's death and place it squarely on the shoulders of a man who was (at least in theory) innocent until proven guilty.
We all know and accept that Teresa Halbach met a horrible end. However, the reality of that doesn't have anything to do with Steven Avery, absent valid evidence. Kratz' inference is simply that "We have the right man, and if you don't convict the guy we've put in front of you, then he's going to get away with it."
As soon as his opening argument, I saw an immediate, very clever ploy by Kratz. He put a photograph up on the big screen of Teresa Halbach, next to a photograph of Steven Avery. I don't know if Kratz knows the official term for what he was doing, but it was an attempt at something called "imprinting." What that photo did was put in the minds of the jurors the face of Steven Avery next to the face of Teresa Halbach every time they visualize her. This is the kind of trick that advertising firms have exploited for decades.
Another thing the Kratz did in his opening statement was to overly inflate the emotional portion of the case. He talked about Halbach's bones not as 'Teresa's bones,' but as the "...tibia of Karen Halbach's daughter." Yes, I get it, Ken, you want everybody to be outraged about the death of Teresa Halbach. But we already were. What Kratz was trying to do was take the anger and horror of Halbach's death and place it squarely on the shoulders of a man who was (at least in theory) innocent until proven guilty.
We all know and accept that Teresa Halbach met a horrible end. However, the reality of that doesn't have anything to do with Steven Avery, absent valid evidence. Kratz' inference is simply that "We have the right man, and if you don't convict the guy we've put in front of you, then he's going to get away with it."
PERRY MASON MOMENT
Before I discuss the statement of Bobby Dassey, we all have to be on the same page about what needs to be true before a trial can occur. First, all sides have to be on even footing as far as evidence to be presented in trial is concerned. This means that every party to the trial has to know all the information that is going to be presented in the trial by the other side, well before the trial starts. And if evidence comes up during trial, that evidence must be provided to the other side, whether the defense finds it or the prosecution finds it. The other side then gets a chance to review the new information, investigate the validity of it, and prepare to deal with it.
Decades ago, there was a TV show called Perry Mason, in which every episode invariably finished with a surprise new witness, or piece of evidence that the defense came up with at the last second. When the evidence or witness was presented, there were gasps in the courtroom and frequently, the real murderer (always conveniently in court) would blurt out a confession and his motive. It made for great TV. But it makes for horrible, unfair trials. And in reality, it's not allowed to happen, except apparently in the case of Ken Kratz and the Steven Avery case.
The testimony of Bobby Dassey was just such a ridiculous, unfair, and prejudicial Perry Mason moment. The fact that Kratz engaged in such an underhanded ploy speaks volumes about his own doubts about winning the case on valid evidence alone.
Bobby Dassey's testimony on Sunday, Part 3.
Before I discuss the statement of Bobby Dassey, we all have to be on the same page about what needs to be true before a trial can occur. First, all sides have to be on even footing as far as evidence to be presented in trial is concerned. This means that every party to the trial has to know all the information that is going to be presented in the trial by the other side, well before the trial starts. And if evidence comes up during trial, that evidence must be provided to the other side, whether the defense finds it or the prosecution finds it. The other side then gets a chance to review the new information, investigate the validity of it, and prepare to deal with it.
Decades ago, there was a TV show called Perry Mason, in which every episode invariably finished with a surprise new witness, or piece of evidence that the defense came up with at the last second. When the evidence or witness was presented, there were gasps in the courtroom and frequently, the real murderer (always conveniently in court) would blurt out a confession and his motive. It made for great TV. But it makes for horrible, unfair trials. And in reality, it's not allowed to happen, except apparently in the case of Ken Kratz and the Steven Avery case.
The testimony of Bobby Dassey was just such a ridiculous, unfair, and prejudicial Perry Mason moment. The fact that Kratz engaged in such an underhanded ploy speaks volumes about his own doubts about winning the case on valid evidence alone.
Bobby Dassey's testimony on Sunday, Part 3.