“Mister Smith, if this jury would spare your life, are you aware that you will spend the rest of your natural life in the prison system of this commonwealth?”
“I don’t think there’s any doubt about that.”
“If this jury would spare you your life, what would you do within the prison system until your natural death?”
“I don’t see any major changes. I would go on as I am, trying to help people when I could, trying to work as closely as possible with my family so they can get over the disgrace. Finish the criminal justice dictionary and work in the church.
“I guess I would complete the Agent Orange lawsuits against Dow Chemical. Probably I’d start teaching again. I volunteered to teach English and reading. I’m not permitted to teach subjects where they have a hired position although that’s what I could really do best.”
“Mister Smith, are you asking this jury to spare your life?”
“Absolutely. Of course.”
After Bill Costopoulos sat down, Rick Guida’s first question was “Where are the bodies of Karen and Michael Reinert?”
“I do not know,” said Jay Smith.
“You do not know?”
“I do not know.”
“Where did you kill Susan Reinert?”
“I did not kill Susan Reinert or her children. I had nothing to do with Susan Reinert.”
“In other words, what you’re telling this jury is that they made a terrible mistake, isn’t that right?”
“All my life I’ve lived in the American system. I think they’ve made their decision honestly on the basis of what they were given. We accept their judgment. They say I’m guilty; I’m guilty. You asked me if I think I really did it? I didn’t do it. I respect their judgment.”
“I didn’t ask you if you think you did it. Did you do it or didn’t you?”
“I said I did not.”
“It’s not a thinking process. You know you didn’t do it and these people made a horrible mistake, but it’s just the American system. Is that right?”
Costopoulos stood and said, “I object! He’s arguing!”
“Yes,” Judge Lipsitt said. “I don’t think you should argue with him. You just ask him the questions and don’t argue the point.”
“Let me ask you this,” Guida continued. “Are you telling us that you are not upset even though you’ve been unjustly convicted of three counts of murder in the first degree?”
“Yeah, I’m upset,” Jay Smith said. “But I’m not the kind who falls apart. I’ve had enough military training. I can take whatever happens to me.”
“Where were you during the weekend of June twenty-second, 1979, between ten o’clock at night and noontime on June twenty-fourth, 1979?”
“Your Honor, I’m going to object!” Bill Costopoulos said.
“I agree,” said the judge. “You can’t go back into the case.”
“He’s accepted the verdict!” said Costopoulos.
Guida was relentless. In all these years it was his first and last shot at the prince of darkness. He said, “Your Honor, may I explore who he was with during that time period?”
“I think I’ve sustained the objection. You have a jury verdict.”
The prosecutor turned to Penthouse magazine.
“Mister Smith, on direct examination you indicated that you wanted issues of Penthouse so that you could write a legal dictionary, is that correct?”
“I am writing a legal dictionary, yes.”
“What specific word did you define in your dictionary using the Yoko Ono article?”
“ ‘Battered wives.’ I’m not saying that I completed the total entry. ‘Child abuse’ and ‘battered wives’ are the two terms I was going after.”
“How long an entry in your dictionary did you plan for ‘battered wives’?”
“I would say twenty-five words.”
“In order to get twenty-five words for the dictionary to define the term ‘battered wives,’ you ordered two copies of Penthouse, is that right?”
“That’s correct.”
“The prison library has a lot of books, doesn’t it?”
“The prison library has very few books, Mister Guida. I had purchased my own books. I had over one hundred and fifty books in my cell including a full encyclopedia set.”
“You, of course, have a Ph.D. in education?”
“I’m a doctor of education.”
“As part of that you did extensive research both in your master’s and your doctoral theses, did you not?”
“Correct.”
“Are you saying that given your educational background, your knowledge of libraries and books, and the places to find information, that the best place for you to get a definition of ‘battered wives’ was in the issues of Penthouse magazine?”
“On those two celebrities. Yes.”
“In other words your dictionary was going to include a list of famous cases, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Were you also going to include the Ted Bundy case?”
“Absolutely.”
“How about the Jeffrey MacDonald case from Fatal Vision?”
“I had those books in my cell.”
“As a matter of fact, you had a lot of books on Ted Bundy.”
“I had three. I consider him to be the first major serial murderer.”
“Also, Fatal Vision. Correct me if I’m wrong. That’s the man who killed his wife and two children?”
“Yes.”
“A woman and two children?”
“No. It was his wife and two children.”
“She’s still a woman, isn’t she?”
“Of course, she’s a woman.”
It was starting to look as though Guida never wanted this case to end-until he sensed that the jury had had enough. He ended abruptly.
Bill Costopoulos said, “Mister Smith, is there anything else that you wish to tell this jury, your peers, before they pass judgment on life or death?”
“The only thing I wanted to mention was that comb,” Jay Smith said. “I spent twenty-eight years in the army reserves. Twenty-eight years. I spent every Wednesday night for twenty years doing reserve work. I’m the one who originated the idea for the comb.
“We had trouble getting into schools to talk about recruiting because it was very antimilitary back in the sixties. There was a television program called 77 Sunset Strip. On that program there was a fellow who was a detective. He used to comb his hair. They had a song called ‘Kookie, Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb.’ That’s where I got the idea to hand out combs with the 79th USARCOM decal inscribed on it. That comb now works against me.
“I did not kill Susan Reinert. I never had anything to do with Susan Reinert. Nothing whatever. Nothing. Never saw her off school property at any time. Never saw her children.”
“Nevertheless,” said Costopoulos, “you accept the judgment of your jury?”
“Of course. They’re honest people. They made an honest decision. You accept it. That’s the way it goes.”
“No further questions,” said Costopoulos.
“Nothing further,” said Guida.
Jay Smith just gave a little shrug.
“Let’s hear arguments,” said the judge.
Bill Costopoulos had said during the trial that he didn’t even like to think of this eventuality, arguing for a mans life. He said the mere thought filled him with dread.
Only now was it possible to see just how much Bill Costopoulos dreaded this moment. He arose, faced the jury, and said, “May it please the court, Mister Guida, and Jay. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I, like Mister Smith, believe that this is the greatest system in the world. I’m not questioning the verdict that you twelve honest people have reached.
“Jay Smith has always maintained to me, as he has to this jury, that he did not murder Susan Reinert. He did not murder those children. I don’t know, but I think you can appreciate the frightening position I’m in …”