Free The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace by Jeff Hobbs

force of repetition, as nine different policemen answered more or less the same two dozen questions over the course of three afternoons. During cross-examination of the State’s witnesses, Skeet’s public defenders focused almost exclusively on details of positioning, needling each officer to recount, practically down to the square inch, where he had stood during every moment of the crime scene investigation. Even the judge seemed to grow prickly during these lengthy, sometimes redundant exchanges during which few conclusions or refutations were made. Aside from a few roundabout assertions that a certain officer couldn’t have seen a certain piece of evidence at a certain time because of a door or obstruction of some kind, the lawyer’s strategy was unclear and ineffective.
    A ballistics expert for the prosecution then explained why the spent rounds found at the crime scene could have been fired only by the gun found on Skeet at the time of arrest.
    And then Georgianna Broadway, who had recovered from her wounds, took the witness stand. Though her foggy memory and misunderstanding of hearsay laws muddled what the prosecution intended to be a highly dramatic moment, her testimony still concluded with her pointing to Skeet Douglas and identifying him as the murderer. “Him right there. He killed Stella and Charlene.”
    After six days, Mr. Lechliter rested his case. He had not pressed any of his witnesses to present a motive to the crime (nor had the defense pointed out the lack of one). He had based his case on the same set of facts he’d learned of in the days following Skeet’s arrest: a witness placing the defendant at the crime scene, a less reliable witness pointing to him as the shooter, and a murder weapon owned by and found on him.
    The witnesses for the defense numbered three: an old friend of Skeet’s from junior high basketball, the mother of another childhood friend, and a neighbor from Pierson Street. All served strictly as character witnesses, asserting Skeet’s basic kindness and aversion to trouble. After each witness spoke, Mr. Lechliter approached for the prosecution’s cross-examination and asked a single question: “Were you in Apartment 2D of 7 Chestnut Street on the morning of August 8th, 1987?” to which each witness replied no. The defense’s case lasted less than an hour.
    And yet the jury reported they couldn’t reach a consensus despite deliberating for a longer time than the trial proper had actually taken. Maybe Georgianna’s choppy testimony had interrupted the prosecution’s story (the jury had requested a reading of Georgianna’s transcript multiple times during deliberation). Maybe the stark visual contrast between nine white policemen testifying against one black man proved hard to overlook. Maybe one of them believed the defense attorney when, in his closing statement, he asked the jury to consider the possibility that, in an area long known for police corruption, one or all of the arresting officers might have conspired to plant the weapon in Skeet’s belt.
    The judge directed them to deliberate for at least another day, noting that one of the jurors had reported sick during one day of deliberation. He sternly insisted that a verdict should be reached.
    When the twelve citizens finally emerged, they did so with a verdict: guilty on each of two counts of first-degree murder, as well as one count of aggravated assault on Georgianna Broadway and possession of an unregistered handgun.
    On December 13, 1990, after more than four dozen appearances at the courthouse over the previous three years, Skeet came back for the sentencing. The state sought the death penalty, but Skeet received a life sentence in Trenton State Prison. He would not be eligible for parole until 2020, thirty years hence. Near the end of the hearing, Skeet was given a chance to make a statement. He stood up before the court and cleared his throat.
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