“No one else benefits from this scenario. No one would have taken this chance unless they did it for Bill Bradfield, because nobody collects on insurance unless they have a body. Perhaps that’s the final irony. The big mistake was when he killed the children, because I couldn’t make this argument to you if it was Susan Reinert alone.
“But they panicked. The children weren’t worth anything. A real measure of irony, a real measure of justice is that the children’s lives were perhaps not sacrificed in vain because their absence at this scene speaks so loudly of the defendants guilt that I submit to you it is impossible to ignore. No one else benefits in this terrible chance of exposing the body except the defendant.
“Today is October twenty-eighth, 1983. Five years ago today Susan Reinerts mother died and the plan to kill her began. And today the conspiracy ends and we are going to leave this to you.”
Joshua Lock had married late, but had made up for it. He and his wife had one baby after another, beautiful enchanting children. He believed so completely that Bill Bradfield was not a child murderer that he hoped one day to sail with him in the Chesapeake. And he wanted his daughters to meet this teacher who had such a captivating way about him.
Lock thought that the jury would be out for days even though he had great admiration for the methodical way that Rick Guida had presented the complex case. He was told by many reporters in the courtroom that they were not impressed by Guida. He was later told by some of the jurors that they were not impressed. But he was impressed. This was a brilliant organization, he said, and as a professional he recognized it even if they didn’t.
Throughout the trial, Josh Lock had a constant urge to throw up.
The jury retired to deliberate at 8:22 P.M. Jack Holtz and Lou DeSantis walked across the street to the Holiday Inn in downtown Harrisburg and figured to have a bite before going home. They imagined that the jurors might get started tonight, but they’d probably get sleepy and turn in before ten.
They hadn’t even finished a beer when the phone rang. It was the “tipstaff,” or court crier, since Pennsylvania is one of the places quaint enough to retain one. Everyone joked that it was a verdict when Jack went to the phone.
The tipstaff said, “Jack, you’re not gonna believe it. The jury has a verdict.”
They’d been out seventy-five minutes. They said they had the verdict within forty-five, but thought they should wait to make it look more professional.
A verdict that fast in a case that complex meant only one thing and Jack Holtz could hardly keep from yelling when they ran back over to the courthouse.
He was ecstatic to see jurors glaring at the defendant.
They polled the jury. William Bradfield got to hear “Guilty, first degree” thirty-six times. Each juror uttered it in the murders of Susan Reinert and Karen Reinert and Michael Reinert.
The defendant showed all the emotion of serpentine stone.
Jack Holtz found it hard, but waited until everyone was off the elevator on the first floor. Then he and Lou DeSantis and Rick Guida let out a whoop and raced across the river to Catalano’s Restaurant. They closed the bar.
Early the next morning Jack Holtz called Betty VanNort.
The swift and effective manner in which the trial had been run by Judge Garb impressed the reporters, the defense and the prosecution.
The judge wasn’t known to be a proponent of capital punishment. He said that it hadn’t been proved that William Bradfield did any of the actual killing, and there was insufficient evidence to show that he had “contracted” with a crime partner to have it done. The judge therefore decided that as a matter of law aggravating circumstances did not apply. He took a possible death verdict away from the jury.
It was only left to determine whether Bill Bradfield would receive concurrent sentences for the three murders as the defense wished, or consecutive sentences as the prosecution was now demanding.
At the sentencing of William Bradfield, one witness after another came forward to say that his teaching had made all the difference in decisions toward higher education.
A former student said, “I can’t say that I’ve ever met anyone who is so seriously devoted to the truth as Mister Bradfield, and so serious in acting morally according to that truth. I would not be the same person I am today had I not met Mister Bradfield.”
Another former student said, “Beyond all things, he was an example to me. He taught me what was important in my intellectual life. That it was important to consider things and truths and that one should run his life or fulfill his actions according to what truth could be found in his own investigations. He was a great teacher in that way.”
Josh Lock said in his plea for concurrent sentences, “If I may presume to anticipate some of Mister Guidas comments, I suppose we would probably hear about the heinous nature of this crime. And we would probably also be reminded that Mister Bradfield remains unrepentant and has demonstrated no remorse either by public confession or cooperation with the authorities. I would suggest that that reposes a level of infallibility in jury verdicts that practice demonstrates may not exist.
“I think the fundamental point for sentencing purposes is something else. As has been suggested by Dante there are qualitative differences in evil. There are evil people who commit evil acts. There are people who are not otherwise evil who commit equally evil acts. However, it is not fair to judge those two groups of people in the same way.”
Lock produced letters from students who had unmistakably been inspired by William Bradfield.
One young woman in her third year at Harvard wrote: “Mr. Bradfield taught me ancient Greek when I was in tenth grade. After three years of study at Harvard I still think of that class as the most inspiring I have ever had, and of Mr. Bradfield as the most inspiring teacher.”
There was one letter after another. In each of them, young people who had gone on to academic success wrote of Bill Bradfields inspirational talents, and told of how he’d brought out qualities they didn’t know they had.
His attorney said, “There is a qualitative difference in the type of life this man has led and the type of life so many others have led. The parallels in this case and the book Crime and Punishment are striking.
“Your Honor may recall that the protagonist, Raskolnikov, by recourse to his own system of moral and intellectual values, rationalized the murder of an elderly woman of some means so he could promote his education, propagate his ideas to the world, and demonstrate to himself that he was some sort of superhuman individual. Having killed her, however, he came to the realization of the effect that one act had on what had otherwise been an intellectually and morally superior life.
“At one point in his agony, he said, ‘Did I murder the old woman? I killed myself, not that old creature. There and then I murdered myself at one blow forever.’
“And indeed that is exactly what has happened in this case, and it’s questionable, the death penalty having been resolved, whether any penalty imposed can exceed the type of penalty that Raskolnikov felt, and that Bill Bradfield feels now.
“Crime and Punishment is a story of redemption as well. Sonya the prostitute says to him, ‘God will send you life again.’
“In the final paragraph of the book, Dostoevsky said, ‘He did not even know that the new life would not be his for nothing, that it must be dearly bought and paid for with great and heroic struggles yet to come.’
“Bill Bradfield has demonstrated that he can live a worthwhile life even in prison, that he can renew himself. He can redeem himself. That suggestion is confirmed by everything about his life up to 1979, and is indicated in these letters and in the testimony we have today.