Post by SoulTrainOz on Jun 27, 2006 20:53:16 GMT -5
Akron man convicted of killing ex-girlfriend makes rude gestures at jurors; judge to give sentence July 7
Clarence Fry let the jurors have it when they walked into the Summit County courtroom Monday morning: The choke sign. The glares. The not-so-concealed middle finger.
By nightfall, the jury gave some back, recommending Fry be executed for the murder of his former girlfriend.
Jurors Monday night said their decision was made easier when Fry waived his right to put forth any evidence during a sentencing hearing earlier in the day.
It was a "shocking'' move on Fry's part, 2 jurors said.
And a move that further showed his callousness, making it easier for them to forego recommending a life sentence for his murder of Tamela Hardison, 41.
Fry made the decision after the same jury earlier this month failed to see the slaying his way. Fry, 46, contended the killing was spontaneous, not calculated as jurors found when they convicted him of aggravated murder, burglary, stalking and other charges.
Outside the ears of the jury, Fry called the panel "dumb as a bag of rocks'' and asked Summit County Common Pleas Judge Patricia A. Cosgrove to forbid his attorneys from calling his family and a psychiatrist to aid in his sentencing hearing scheduled for Monday morning.
Fry will be formally sentenced July 7. Cosgrove can affirm the jury's decision or reduce it to life in prison.
"He was never remorseful,'' said juror Jennifer Mule', who served as foreperson during the sentencing phase. "Throughout the trial it appeared he was stone-cold, unemotional, arrogant and above the law.''
Mule', 33, of Cuyahoga Falls, and fellow juror Connie Leonard, 41, of Tallmadge said the jury was well aware of Fry's gestures made to them as they walked into court Monday morning.
They were also aware of Fry's constant smiling, laughing and candy-eating escapades throughout the trial. They said the panel was put off by his antics. But, they said, the Akron man's demeanor did not affect their deliberations.
The 12-member jury was nearly unanimous in the sentencing recommendation from the outset, voting 11-1 for death, the jurors said. After about six hours of talks, a lone, unidentified juror joined the majority.
"My duty wasn't to judge him as a person, but rather to judge his
actions,'' said Leonard, who served as foreperson during the guilt phase of the trial.
Fry and his attorneys, Kerry O'Brien and Larry Whitney, made no comment as they left the courthouse. The verdict was announced just before 8 p.m. No family members were present.
Fry's sentencing antics began Monday morning while Cosgrove was explaining the rights he was giving up by waiving the hearing. As if oblivious, Fry at one point looked down at the court reporter taking down the judge's cautionary words.
"Nice shoes,'' he said, flashing his ubiquitous smile to stenographer Terri Sims and her pea green high heels.
Fry went on to say he didn't care what sentence the jury recommended. He wanted the hearings over so he could begin his appeals.
"I just want to skip all this so we can get to sentencing and get where we need to go,'' Fry told the judge outside the jury's ear. "I wouldn't trust (this jury) as far as I could spit. They were horrible, your honor.... The hell with these clowns.''
Fry got his wish. Sort of.
No witnesses were called and only defense attorney Whitney was able to speak to the jury on his behalf. Fry allowed Whitney to talk after the lawyer said he would do so with or without Fry's consent.
Whitney spoke for about five minutes, about the same amount used by Assistant Prosecutor Angela Walls-Alexander, who asked jurors to recommend death.
The panel began its deliberations on a sentence around the lunch hour.
"They'll probably give me the death penalty and put me on death row,'' Fry said around noon. "I know (the jury's) dumb. Unfortunately, I found out the hard way.''
Typically, sentencing hearings can last a full day or more. As a matter of practice, defense attorneys call in a psychiatrist to explain to jurors the defendant's life story, sometimes with details of abuse or drug use.
In addition, family members take the stand to ask jurors for leniency. The defendant is also allowed to take the stand and give a statement. Fry declined that option as well.
In his address to jurors, Whitney cited three reasons for a life sentence: Fry's handicapped mother, Ethel Fry; Fry's drug use; and his contention that Hardison initiated the argument by throwing an ashtray. Hardison, of Akron, was stabbed last July in front of her 2 grandchildren, one of whom said Fry showed up with a butcher knife.
"This isn't about personality, it's about whether the law requires 2 people to die,'' Whitney told jurors in an obvious reference to Fry's actions at trial.
Mule' and Leonard said Fry's behavior at trial, the gestures Monday, and his nonchalant attitude did not sway their decision. They said they would not object if Cosgrove lowered the sentence to life in prison.
"Nobody hated him,'' Mule' said. "It was more of amazement, seeing him kicked back and eating his candy. He's a jerk. But it's not illegal to be a jerk.''
(source: Akron Beacon Journal)
Clarence Fry let the jurors have it when they walked into the Summit County courtroom Monday morning: The choke sign. The glares. The not-so-concealed middle finger.
By nightfall, the jury gave some back, recommending Fry be executed for the murder of his former girlfriend.
Jurors Monday night said their decision was made easier when Fry waived his right to put forth any evidence during a sentencing hearing earlier in the day.
It was a "shocking'' move on Fry's part, 2 jurors said.
And a move that further showed his callousness, making it easier for them to forego recommending a life sentence for his murder of Tamela Hardison, 41.
Fry made the decision after the same jury earlier this month failed to see the slaying his way. Fry, 46, contended the killing was spontaneous, not calculated as jurors found when they convicted him of aggravated murder, burglary, stalking and other charges.
Outside the ears of the jury, Fry called the panel "dumb as a bag of rocks'' and asked Summit County Common Pleas Judge Patricia A. Cosgrove to forbid his attorneys from calling his family and a psychiatrist to aid in his sentencing hearing scheduled for Monday morning.
Fry will be formally sentenced July 7. Cosgrove can affirm the jury's decision or reduce it to life in prison.
"He was never remorseful,'' said juror Jennifer Mule', who served as foreperson during the sentencing phase. "Throughout the trial it appeared he was stone-cold, unemotional, arrogant and above the law.''
Mule', 33, of Cuyahoga Falls, and fellow juror Connie Leonard, 41, of Tallmadge said the jury was well aware of Fry's gestures made to them as they walked into court Monday morning.
They were also aware of Fry's constant smiling, laughing and candy-eating escapades throughout the trial. They said the panel was put off by his antics. But, they said, the Akron man's demeanor did not affect their deliberations.
The 12-member jury was nearly unanimous in the sentencing recommendation from the outset, voting 11-1 for death, the jurors said. After about six hours of talks, a lone, unidentified juror joined the majority.
"My duty wasn't to judge him as a person, but rather to judge his
actions,'' said Leonard, who served as foreperson during the guilt phase of the trial.
Fry and his attorneys, Kerry O'Brien and Larry Whitney, made no comment as they left the courthouse. The verdict was announced just before 8 p.m. No family members were present.
Fry's sentencing antics began Monday morning while Cosgrove was explaining the rights he was giving up by waiving the hearing. As if oblivious, Fry at one point looked down at the court reporter taking down the judge's cautionary words.
"Nice shoes,'' he said, flashing his ubiquitous smile to stenographer Terri Sims and her pea green high heels.
Fry went on to say he didn't care what sentence the jury recommended. He wanted the hearings over so he could begin his appeals.
"I just want to skip all this so we can get to sentencing and get where we need to go,'' Fry told the judge outside the jury's ear. "I wouldn't trust (this jury) as far as I could spit. They were horrible, your honor.... The hell with these clowns.''
Fry got his wish. Sort of.
No witnesses were called and only defense attorney Whitney was able to speak to the jury on his behalf. Fry allowed Whitney to talk after the lawyer said he would do so with or without Fry's consent.
Whitney spoke for about five minutes, about the same amount used by Assistant Prosecutor Angela Walls-Alexander, who asked jurors to recommend death.
The panel began its deliberations on a sentence around the lunch hour.
"They'll probably give me the death penalty and put me on death row,'' Fry said around noon. "I know (the jury's) dumb. Unfortunately, I found out the hard way.''
Typically, sentencing hearings can last a full day or more. As a matter of practice, defense attorneys call in a psychiatrist to explain to jurors the defendant's life story, sometimes with details of abuse or drug use.
In addition, family members take the stand to ask jurors for leniency. The defendant is also allowed to take the stand and give a statement. Fry declined that option as well.
In his address to jurors, Whitney cited three reasons for a life sentence: Fry's handicapped mother, Ethel Fry; Fry's drug use; and his contention that Hardison initiated the argument by throwing an ashtray. Hardison, of Akron, was stabbed last July in front of her 2 grandchildren, one of whom said Fry showed up with a butcher knife.
"This isn't about personality, it's about whether the law requires 2 people to die,'' Whitney told jurors in an obvious reference to Fry's actions at trial.
Mule' and Leonard said Fry's behavior at trial, the gestures Monday, and his nonchalant attitude did not sway their decision. They said they would not object if Cosgrove lowered the sentence to life in prison.
"Nobody hated him,'' Mule' said. "It was more of amazement, seeing him kicked back and eating his candy. He's a jerk. But it's not illegal to be a jerk.''
(source: Akron Beacon Journal)