Fatal Vision

  "We know, at least, that the pajama top was placed on Colette's chest. That is one thing about which the government and the defendant are in agreement. He said that he was in a state of confusion and that perhaps he put it on there to get her warm and protect her from shock, but he wasn't sure why. He was confused.

  "I think that you can infer from this evidence that the reason the pajama top was placed on top of Colette's chest was because it already had Type A blood on it and he had to have an explanation that would sound reasonable as to why that Type A blood was on it.

  "How did threads and yarns from the pajama top get on Kimberly's bed underneath the sheets? Fourteen of them, when the pajama top was already off? Now, we asked the defendant about that and as I recall, he said, well, they were sticking to his arms. If you believe that that is where they came from, fine. We suggest that they came from the blue pajama top itself as Kimberly MacDonald was carried back into that room with that torn pajama top and placed in that bed.

  "What about Kristen? We know that at least one thread matching the pajama top and a splinter matching the club were found in her room. We know that Type A blood, from the evidence, was on the wall, splattered. We know from the evidence that Type A blood from direct bleeding was found in massive amounts on the top sheet. We know, ladies and gentlemen, that Colette MacDonald had no injuries on her legs, yet there was a lot of blood—her own blood—on the pajama bottoms. How did that blood get there?

  "I suggest from the evidence that you can infer that it got there because the killer took this club and after Colette MacDonald went to Kristen's room, she was banged again with the club up against the wall and fell over and bled on the pajama bottoms.''

  Blackburn paused and began to pace slowly back and forth across the courtroom. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "we have heard a lot about fabric impressions and contact prints on the bed sheet. How did they get there? One fabric impression contact print matched the right cuff of the defendant's blue pajama top. What did the defendant say about the bed sheet? To his memory, he could not recall touching or coming in contact with that sheet.

  "But you have got a massive amount of Type A blood in the center of that sheet. You have got two impressions matching the arms of Colette's pink pajama top there. And you have got MacDonald's blue cuff—the right cuff—on that sheet. How do you explain that? What is the explanation for that?

  "And then the footprint. Even the defendant agrees the footprint was probably his. The intruders did not go barefooted. The left footprint that was exiting Kristen's bedroom was made in Type A blood. How was the footprint made? And how did the fabric impressions—the contact—prints—get on the sheet?

  "I submit that it is reasonable to infer from the evidence that after Colette MacDonald was struck with the club in Kristen's room, she came to rest on the floor. We suggest that that bedspread and that blue sheet from the master bedroom were then brought into Kristen's room. Colette was laid on it, and, ladies and gentlemen, she was picked up and carried back to the master bedroom. And we suggest that as the defendant did that, he stepped, unbeknownst to him, in a blood type that was not Kristen's and made that footprint as he exited that room."

  Glancing briefly at handwritten notes, Blackburn moved on. ‘‘We know," he said, ‘‘that pieces of latex were found torn and some with Type A blood on them in the master bedroom. How did they get there? We asked the defendant about it, and he said, ‘Not that I can recall,' ‘No,' or ‘No explanation.' Again, while he has no legal responsibility to explain, don't you know—don't you know that if he could have, he most certainly would have?

  ‘ ‘ We know that somebody wrote the words PIG in Type A blood on the headboard over where Colette MacDonald slept. We know that a blue thread matching the pajama top was found in that area. We know that there is a good possibility from the evidence that the surgical glove fragments found in the bedroom matched gloves found elsewhere in the house.

  ‘‘And isn't it interesting, ladies and gentlemen, that droplets of Type B blood—that of the defendant—are found in the kitchen near the cabinet where surgical gloves are kept? According to his story, the kitchen was the thirteenth stop on his rounds—drops of blood at number thirteen, but at number one, where he was cut according to his story, there wasn't any.

  ‘‘I think you can infer from the evidence, ladies and gentlemen, that this defendant with his medical knowledge—with his medical ability—knowing that MPs would soon be on the way—very likely inflicted one—not all, but one—injury in the bathroom, and that is where the B-type blood came from and that was close to the end and that is why B-type blood was not found until number thirteen in the kitchen.

  ‘‘But, ladies and gentlemen, I believe that you could throw the whole shooting match away except for two pieces of evidence. I think you could just hold on to two—this club and this pajama top." Blackburn held both in front of the jury.

  ‘‘Why are they so important? Well, you remember, the defendant said that he hadn't seen this club until April 6th, and he didn't think this was the club that he was hit with. The club, the knives, and the icepick were outside the door. He didn't go outside the door, but he went to it. The club had A and AB blood on it and it had two little blue threads on it which matched identically the threads from this pajama top.

  ‘That sounds sort of minor, really, until you think about something. How did they get there? If he never touched the club, if he never saw it, if the pajama top was not taken off his body until this club was already out the door, how in the name of all that is reasonable did they walk out the door and get on the club and stick to it?

  "I suggest from the evidence that there is an explanation and that is that this club was not outside the back door until after— that pajama top dropped threads and yarns and blood to the floor, and as the club fell on the floor, it picked up the threads and picked up the yarns with the blood and then it was thrown out the door.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I have talked to you a long time about all this type of evidence. But what does it mean? How could this have happened?

  "We know from the evidence that the defendant, as we have said before, was a good doctor. We know that his family loved him. We know that from the Valentine cards. We know from the card that he read from the witness stand shortly before the end of direct examination that Colette loved him very much.

  "I suggest to you, however, that what the defense tried to do was to prove the defendant's love and character through Colette and not through himself. We know that the defendant had been unfaithful in his marriage. We know that he had worked the weekend before; he was perhaps tired. We know from the evidence that there was a—maybe it is a minor problem—the problem of Kristen coming to the bed. We know that he, according to his story, went to bed late that night and found that the bed was wet.

  "I am not by any stretch of the imagination suggesting that the slaughter took place over any one thing. I don't think so, but I think that you can infer from the evidence that a fight developed in the master bedroom between Colette and the defendant—a struggle—an altercation. We know that Colette was bruised— perhaps she was struck.

  "You know those words—'Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.' I believe those words were said, but not from fear of intruders. I think you can infer from the evidence that they were said as Kimberly came to the master bedroom to find out what was going on between her father and mother. We know that she was there. We know from the evidence that her blood was found on the sheet, on the floor, and in the hall.

  "We suggest, perhaps, that Colette in an attempt to save herself or to fight back, got the old dull Geneva Forge knife and perhaps struck the defendant.

  "I suggest that the defendant, perhaps in a frenzy, perhaps mad, perhaps disgusted, perhaps exhausted—he knew that he was going to be away for thirty days in March, if he could, while his wife was six or seven months pregnant—the defendant in one tragic, brief moment—so brief—lost control and came back with that club, and as he did, he struck Kimberly
and struck his wife.

  "At that point, ladies and gentlemen, the future is at stake. It may be too late at that point to undo that which is done. You know how hard it is to unring the bell. You know the words, 'Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, why are they doing this to me?' Think how close that is to, 'Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, why are you doing this to me?"

  "After Kimberly was struck, we suggest that she was picked up and carried back to her room and struck with this club again and that Colette went to protect or to see what was happening to Kristen, and while she was in there, Colette was struck again and carried back to the master bedroom.

  "Then, of course, things had simply gone beyond repair. You can't go back and make the family happy again, drink liqueur, and watch Johnny Carson. It has gone too far.

  "An Old Hickory paring knife was located and that knife was taken and Colette MacDonald was stabbed sixteen times and Kimberly was stabbed in the neck at least eight to ten times.

  "I think that you can infer from the evidence that—you know, you remember the Esquire magazine and the words in it: the Manson-type murders and a multiplicity of weapons equaling a multiplicity of people. An icepick was obtained. And Kristen was stabbed with the icepick after she had already been stabbed with the knife.

  "You remember the testimony of the CID agent who interviewed the defendant in the hospital on the morning of the murders, and who said that he became incoherent and confused when he talked about Kristen. Kristen was so hard to talk about. Perhaps that was because it was the most cold to do—a defenseless little girl. Kimberly and Colette had perhaps been struck while he was angered, but not Kristen." Blackburn paused again, allowing the jury to think about that for a moment. Then he resumed.

  "Well, you know, there is no such thing as perfect murder. The pajama top was probably already on Colette's chest. And I think you can find from the evidence that the defendant forgot it was there and made that terrible mistake of stabbing Colette with the icepick through that blue pajama top and that is how those holes got there.

  "He didn't know at that time that four years later, the FBI would figure out that forty-eight can match twenty-one.

  "I believe that the weapons—the Old Hickory knife and the icepick—were wiped off on the bathmat. Do irrational and irresponsible drug-crazed people wipe off weapons and then throw them outside to be found by investigators?

  "Why did he say that the Geneva Forge knife was pulled out of the chest of Colette even though Paul Stombaugh testified that in his opinion that knife was dull and did not make any of the cuts in her clothing? Remember, he said, 'Don't forget that I pulled the knife out of her chest.' I suggest that you could find from the evidence that he did that because he didn't know what was on that knife and he had to have an explanation for why it was there—he forgot to throw that one out.

  "I suggest that the Geneva Forge knife didn't kill anybody. If he pulled it out of her chest, why does the evidence suggest that there was no significant amount of blood on that knife? Perhaps, because it didn't go in that chest—it nicked the defendant's arm.

  "I believe that the surgical gloves were then taken—I think you can find from the evidence—and used to write the word PIG on the headboard. The self-infliction of one injury was made, the story was concocted, the MPs were called, and he lay down next to his wife to wait for help."

  Once more Jim Blackburn paused, and when he resumed his voice was even softer—his cadence slower—than before. "You know," he said, approaching the jurors now and looking directly at them, "the defendant had a lot of nice character testimony, and I am sure that each of you, if you were accused of a crime, would have the same."

  Leaning forward, his voice almost a whisper, his regional accent thicker than it had been for seven weeks, he said, "But don't ever forget that perhaps the greatest crime of all was committed 2,000 years ago. And the night before Christ was betrayed, Judas Iscariot would have had twelve of the best character witnesses this world has ever known to have said he couldn't have done it. But you know that he did."

  Every eye in the courtroom was on him now, every ear awaiting his next words. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "if in the future, after this case is over, you should think of it again, I ask you to think and to remember Colette, Kimberly, and Kristen.

  "They have been dead for almost ten years. That is right now around 3,400 or 3,500 days and nights that you have had and I have had and the defendant has had that they haven't. They would have liked to have had those.

  "And so if in the future you should say a prayer, say one for them. If in the future you should light a candle, light one for them. If in the future you should cry a tear, cry one for them."

  The sadness in his tone, the sadness in the room, had a weight to it that was the culmination of nine and a half years of the grief and agony of all who had cared—and of all who had come to care—about Jeffrey MacDonald's pregnant wife and little girls.

  "We ask for nothing in the name of persecution," Blackburn said. "We ask for nothing in the name of harassment. We ask for nothing in the name of what is wrong. Nothing. But, God, we ask for everything in the name of what is right and in the name of what is just. That is why we are here. We ask for everything in the name of truth.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, this is horribly tragic and horribly sad, as you know, because you have seen Mrs. Kassab and you have seen Mrs. MacDonald and it is sad for both of them—both of them were grandmothers, not just one—and it is sad for the defendant.

  "But it is sad most of all for those who paid the highest price of all—with their lives.

  "And so we ask you, ladies and gentlemen, to return a verdict of guilty as to clubbing and stabbing Colette, guilty of clubbing and stabbing Kimberly, and guilty—perhaps most of all—of stabbing little Kristen.

  "You remember—I am sure you have heard it many times— part of the third chapter of Ecclesiastes—There is a time for everything under the heavens—a time to be born and a time to die.'

  "Surely, God did not intend on the 17th of February, 1970, for Colette, Kimberly, and Kristen MacDonald to die.

  "It is time, ladies and gentlemen. It is so late in the day. It is time that someone speak for justice and truth and return a verdict of guilty against this man."

  The night before, Bernie Segal had spent hours preparing his closing argument. He continued to insist, even privately, that the jury would acquit MacDonald even if he, Segal, were to offer no closing remarks whatsoever, but he had waited more than nine years to purge himself of all the rage and frustration and anguish he felt on behalf of his most favored, most publicized client, and he had no intention of letting the moment pass.

  In its closing days the MacDonald trial had come to attract the attention not only of the North Carolina press and of Newsday on Long Island, but of The Washington Post, The New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, the television networks, and the news magazines. People, to Segal's horror and to the astonishment and dismay of Jeffrey MacDonald, had just printed a feature story on Freddy Kassab and his long quest for justice, in which Kassab was pictured surrounded by law books, looking somber and determined, as if he were perhaps a new appointee to the U.S. Supreme Court, and in which he was quoted as saying, quite unjudicially, "If the courts of this country will not administer justice, then I most certainly will."

  Of the three hours and fifteen minutes allotted to the defense for its presentation, Segal had decided that he would speak for the first two, focusing, in detail, on the inconsistencies in the government's circumstantial case. Then Wade Smith would speak for an hour, in the finest down-home, country-boy style he could muster, about what a wonderful human being Jeffrey MacDonald was, and about how much love he and his family had shared,

  and about how unthinkable it was that a man such as this could have performed deeds such as those with which he was charged.

  Smith, it must be said, given free rein for an hour, had the ability not only to make each and every member of a Raleigh jury feel that he had known and loved them all since
kindergarten, and that the opportunity to speak to them again, even under such unfortunate circumstances as these, was one of the greatest and rarest pleasures of his life, but that even so decent-appearing and kindly a man as Mr. Blackburn—while by no means duplicitous, or even manipulative—might be just the teeniest bit less worthy of their absolute faith and trust than he had hitherto seemed.

  Then Segal was to return to the lectern once again for fifteen minutes of fire and brimstone—venting every bit of his and Jeffrey MacDonald's spleen at the way they had been treated throughout the whole sordid affair. He would attack the CID, the FBI, Victor Worheide, Brian Murtagh, and each and every principle for which they stood, and by the time he was finished, the jury (he was convinced) would be worked up into such a frenzy of anger at this high-handed government mistreatment of a truly decent and noble human being that they would hardly be able to sit through Jim Blackburn's rebuttal, so eager would they be to bring to an end Jeffrey MacDonald's long personal nightmare.

  It did not work out that way. Bernie Segal carried a wrist-watch with him to the lectern, but he was so caught up in the moment that not once—until he was interrupted by the tapping of Franklin Dupree's pencil and a quiet reminder from the bench that "You have three hours and fifteen minutes and you have already used three hours and ten minutes of it"—did he look at it, nor did he, apparently, give any thought whatsoever to the passage of time.