Decision Raises Objection, but the Evidence Favors the Judge

Here’s a scenario that always brings cries of outrage:

The cops--in this case the Irvine Police Department--find their murder suspect through meticulous investigation. The prosecutor--in this case Deputy Dist. Atty. Debbie Lloyd--puts together a compelling case. The jurors--this time it’s Judith Brinton Bleak and 11 other conscientious Orange County residents--find him guilty.

Then the judge steps in. Black robes. Big power. And takes it all away. He decides, whatever his wisdom, to overturn the verdict.

The victim’s family, law enforcement, the citizens of Orange County, certainly the 12 jurors, are left feeling angry and powerless. “ . . . A bitter blow to our jury system,” juror Bleak wrote to the judge this week. “I am wondering if the price to my personal and professional life was worth the time and effort when an ill-advised judge can overturn a verdict so easily.”

Easily? Respectfully, I’d like to offer a dissenting thought. This is probably the most agonizing decision Superior Court Judge Anthony J. Rackauckas Jr. ever has had to make.

Judith Bleak may well be correct in writing that the jurors were fair and returned a just verdict. I didn’t attend the trial; she had a chance to see the evidence much better than I did. But I do know this judge. Rackauckas has been an advocate for victims his entire career--as prosecutor, author and jurist.

Some brief facts of this case:

The defendant was a 20-year-old convicted burglar, Earl Rhoney. He was convicted of first-degree murder in the Jan. 20, 1994, strangulation death of Patricia Lea Pratt at her Turtle Rock home. Last week, as Rhoney was prepared to be sentenced to life without parole, Rackauckas stunned everyone by throwing out the jury verdict.

Rhoney was arrested based in part on evidence gathered through a new “scent machine.” Dog handler Larry Harris, who had helped invent the machine, vacuumed up dead skin cells from the victim’s sweatshirt, hoping they were left by the killer.

Harris transferred them to a gauze pad, and Harris’ trained dog, Duchess, was given the scent. As Rhoney left Juvenile Hall after a short sentence for a separate offense (he was 17 then), the police videotaped Duchess tracing the scent to Rhoney.

Rackauckas permitted prosecutor Lloyd to present the scent evidence at the trial. But in reversing the verdict, the judge said his problem was with Harris’ testimony about the route the dog took tracking Rhoney. In other words: Was the dog leading Harris toward the scent, or was Harris leading the dog toward the known suspect?

Judges do not wield their power in a vacuum. If Judge Rackauckas says the key evidence presented in the Rhoney case does not hold up, you have to at least wonder if it could have passed muster anyway with the 4th District Court of Appeal.

Debbie Lloyd would not agree, of course, and she might be right. I’m not defending Rackauckas’ decision. Only his integrity.

Calm and Tough: Rackauckas is a former deputy district attorney who specialized in murder trials in the 1980s. He was the least flamboyant prosecutor I ever saw, and just about the best. When Rackauckas discussed his case with jurors, it was like he was talking one on one with them over a cup of coffee at their kitchen table.

I can recall an attorney almost screaming at a jury that his murder defendant was several inches shorter than the description given by witnesses in the original police report. In just a single sentence, prosecutor Rackauckas wiped him out: “You know, when someone sticks a loaded gun right in your face, he sure looks a lot bigger, doesn’t he?” Jurors agreed.

Rackauckas’ passion for justice as he saw it led him to disrupt his career. He took a year’s leave of absence as a prosecutor to head a recall effort against then-California Supreme Court Chief Justice Rose Bird. His anger stemmed from the fact that she had reduced several death penalty sentences, one of them in a case he’d prosecuted. Rackauckas’ effort failed, but it helped build the groundswell for a later successful recall of Bird.

Rackauckas still wasn’t satisfied. In 1990, he coauthored the state victim’s rights initiative, a heavily pro-prosecution ballot measure approved by voters. Defense attorneys have been complaining since.

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A few years ago, an attorney called to say he’d heard second-hand about a judge who, on his lunch hour that day, had run down a purse-snatcher. I can well remember saying: “It must have been Rackauckas.”

It was. The daring thief didn’t have a chance against Rackauckas, who is a long-distance runner and could have stayed with him all day if that’s what it took.

The most telling anecdote I can share about Rackauckas comes at his expense--a case he lost. It was a murder case involving a theft of jewelry. I was dumbfounded upon reading the file after the jury verdict: Rackauckas barely had any admissible evidence! He must have known he had no chance of winning. His response, as best I can recall now, was this: The defendant was guilty; he owed it to the victim and his family to take the case to trial.

“What was I supposed to do, just not even try?” Rackauckas said.

Uneasy Writer: What’s so vexing in trying to write about the Rhoney case is that I have such great respect for those upset with what Rackauckas did. Debbie Lloyd is one of the county’s finest prosecutors and she spent months painstakingly preparing this case. Lead investigator Larry Montgomery is one of the finest police detectives in the county.

I happened to be present at a recent Irvine police dinner--before the reversal--where everyone was euphoric over the Rhoney conviction. Chief Charles Brobeck asked Montgomery to make a special presentation to dog handler Harris.

Montgomery’s praise of Harris was effusive. You could just feel in that cavernous ballroom the dedication all these people have toward their duty. I confess enjoying the hoopla. But then, I didn’t have to face Rackauckas’ dilemma: sentencing a 20-year-old to life in prison without parole based on evidence he didn’t have confidence in.

Wrap-Up: I called Judge Rackauckas to ask about the Rhoney case. As I knew he would, he refused comment, because it’s still pending in his courtroom. But I theorized aloud that it must be difficult for any judge to overturn a jury’s verdict.

“It goes way beyond difficult,” Rackauckas interjected. “It’s painful. It’s something you don’t do unless you just absolutely feel like you have to do it.”

Rhoney remains in custody. The case returns to court March 28, either for a new trial or for motions related to the judge’s reversal. Knowing prosecutor Lloyd, she isn’t about to give up. She’s going to find a way to try Rhoney again. But she may have to do it without the Duchess.