30-07-2026, 04:02 PM
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2005 -- 2 P.M.
Judge Leonard Pizaro looked first at Lew Walters and then at me. “You gentlemen ready to proceed?”
Judy Johansen sat in an orange jail jumpsuit at Walters’ side. He had railed and pissed and moaned about the prejudicial impact of his client having to wear prison garb. When Pizaro mentioned that there was no jury to prejudice and that it was he, Pizaro, who had ordered her to wear the jumpsuit, all Lew could do was grin and throw his hands up.
“I had to try, your honor,” he said.
Pizaro smiled back. A long, long, long time ago, I knew that he had been a legal hotshot. He had a grudging admiration for Lew’s showboating he’d done his best to hide during the trial.
“I understand your concerns, Mr. Walters, but Ms. Johansen has been convicted of premeditated first degree murder. There is no bail because with the money she has at her disposal she would be too great a flight risk. That means she has to be housed in the Duval County Jail and there is no rationale for allowing her to possess different clothing. Do you disagree?”
“No sir, your honor.”
“Are you ready to proceed with your arguments and witnesses?”
“Yes, your honor,” he said humbly.
As he turned to speak to his client I mouthed “asskisser” and grinned at him.
When he just gave me a weak smile and bent over to talk to Judy I got a bad feeling. It wasn’t like him not to give me shit about something like that. I’d talk with him after we finished.
Jessica Stephens had come up from behind me with a file I’d requested thirty minutes before. It wasn’t like her to be late to hearings. Strange things.
“Is everything alright, Jessica?” I asked, looking at her curiously. She swept a few strands of her hair back. I noted that a button at the top of her blouse was unbuttoned. And she was wearing hose, but one leg showed a flesh of flesh at the top. I really couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Jessica?” I said. She caught my eye and I slowly looked up and down. She noticed the unbuttoned button as my gaze dropped she looked down and spotted the errant pantyhose. Her face turned an attractive shade of crimson.
“Anything we need to talk about?”
She looked up toward the front row of seats behind the defense. It was the reporters’ row. I spotted the dark hair and barrel chest of TU reporter Carl Cameron. He was smiling at Jessica, the kind of goofy, loopy expression a man has after really good sex. I glanced at him, then back at Jessica.
“Sorry, your honor.”
We sat down and I heard Judy’s two sons talk about what a loving mother she had been and a good wife to her first husband. I heard them tell Pizaro what a son of a bitch Clark Carroll, the husband she had murdered by messing around with his heart medicine, had been to their mother.
Of course, it had been mental abuse, simply because there weren’t any confirmed medical records of physical abuse and she had never complained of it during their marriage.
Judy followed and told the judge how she has fallen in love with a forceful millionaire and been swept off her feet by him. But, she said, after they’d married he had changed, at least in part because his children hated her and wanted to keep her from inheriting any of his fortune.
He had been insanely jealous and bitter because he was unable to function sexually and made her life a living hell. But he had been clever and kept his torments hidden from the outside world.
She smiled at the judge, a sad smile, as she said, “I’m not proud of what I did, your honor. I cheated on Clark. But I’m not dead yet. I’m a woman with a woman’s urges. I wanted to be with Carroll, but it wasn’t just that he couldn’t physically satisfy me. He was so bitter, so jealous while I was still faithful to him, that we couldn’t even cuddle, couldn’t do the non-sexual things a loving couple can enjoy.
“I turned to another man because I was lonely. I needed a man’s touch. I’m sorry, but I did.”
Then she stared at me, a stare that should have turned water to ice.
“But I did not kill my husband deliberately. Mr. Maitland was able to fool the jury into believing that a mistake was murder. But I didn’t mean to kill him. He made my life a living hell at the end, but I never wanted him dead. I knew he was in pain and he knew I was cheating on him. I was hurting him and I felt guilty about that. But as God is my judge, I did not kill him purposefully.”
Lew had done a good job of preparing her. She actually sounded believable and if she had been testifying before a jury, I might have worried. But she was testifying before a man who had been hearing such statements for 30 years. And he had long ago learned to distinguish truth from bullshit.
When Pizaro called on me I stood up and walked toward Lew’s table.
“Ms. Johansen did a very good job in her testimony. I congratulate Mr. Walters on his preparation. I’m not going to introduce any witnesses and my comments will be short and, I hope, to the point.”
I turned away from Judy and Lew and walked to the center of the courtroom facing Pizaro.
“Your honor, the jury, the triers of fact, have determined that Ms. Johansen with premeditation deliberately gave her husband medication that she knew would kill him. They convicted her of first degree murder. Therefore, her denial of her role in his death simply is of no consequence. It’s moot. The jury said otherwise.
“Ms. Johansen herself admitted on the witness stand that she had ample motive to kill her husband. She took a lover, who testified that she told him she was going to kill Clark Carroll. Even if you believe Ms. Johansen about Mr. Carroll’s alleged abuse, that merely strengthens the argument that she had reason to kill him.
“And finally, it is clear that Ms. Johansen could have easily escaped Mr. Carroll’s abusive ways, simply by divorcing him. But, if she had done that, she would not have been in line to inherit his millions. Thus she had another reason to murder him.”
I looked back at Judy. She had tried so hard. And it was all for nothing. “That will conclude the state’s arguments, your honor.”
Pizaro took a slow and deliberate drink of water from a glass in front of him and then spoke to Judy.
“Ms. Johansen. Would you please stand. Mr. Walters. Mr. Maitland.” I looked at her instead of Pizaro,
“I really don’t need any more time to consider your sentence, Ms. Johansen. Nothing had been said here today that really changes the facts proven in this case. You have been found guilty of premeditated first degree murder. The possible sentence could be death. But in my opinion, this crime does not reach the level where a death sentence could be justified.
“Life in prison without parole is another option. In my judgment, however, this crime not reach that level of punishment either. At your age, I believe a substantial punishment would consist of a mandatory ten-year sentence, without possibility of parole, to be followed by ten years' probation.
“You’re welcome to appeal this sentence, and I expect you will, but considering what you could have faced, I don’t think any appeal will be upheld. And that is another reason for the sentence. I believe it will forestall an avalanche of appeals that will do nothing but further clog up the court system.
“The bailiff will now take you back, Ms. Johansen, and you will be transported to the women’s section of the state’s minimum security prison at Lawtey within the next two days. Good luck to you.”
She just stood there for a long moment, her face frozen in a hopeful smile. One of her sons groaned, another fell back into his seat sobbing. She was their mother. It wasn’t unexpected.
Judge Leonard Pizaro looked first at Lew Walters and then at me. “You gentlemen ready to proceed?”
Judy Johansen sat in an orange jail jumpsuit at Walters’ side. He had railed and pissed and moaned about the prejudicial impact of his client having to wear prison garb. When Pizaro mentioned that there was no jury to prejudice and that it was he, Pizaro, who had ordered her to wear the jumpsuit, all Lew could do was grin and throw his hands up.
“I had to try, your honor,” he said.
Pizaro smiled back. A long, long, long time ago, I knew that he had been a legal hotshot. He had a grudging admiration for Lew’s showboating he’d done his best to hide during the trial.
“I understand your concerns, Mr. Walters, but Ms. Johansen has been convicted of premeditated first degree murder. There is no bail because with the money she has at her disposal she would be too great a flight risk. That means she has to be housed in the Duval County Jail and there is no rationale for allowing her to possess different clothing. Do you disagree?”
“No sir, your honor.”
“Are you ready to proceed with your arguments and witnesses?”
“Yes, your honor,” he said humbly.
As he turned to speak to his client I mouthed “asskisser” and grinned at him.
When he just gave me a weak smile and bent over to talk to Judy I got a bad feeling. It wasn’t like him not to give me shit about something like that. I’d talk with him after we finished.
Jessica Stephens had come up from behind me with a file I’d requested thirty minutes before. It wasn’t like her to be late to hearings. Strange things.
“Is everything alright, Jessica?” I asked, looking at her curiously. She swept a few strands of her hair back. I noted that a button at the top of her blouse was unbuttoned. And she was wearing hose, but one leg showed a flesh of flesh at the top. I really couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Jessica?” I said. She caught my eye and I slowly looked up and down. She noticed the unbuttoned button as my gaze dropped she looked down and spotted the errant pantyhose. Her face turned an attractive shade of crimson.
“Anything we need to talk about?”
She looked up toward the front row of seats behind the defense. It was the reporters’ row. I spotted the dark hair and barrel chest of TU reporter Carl Cameron. He was smiling at Jessica, the kind of goofy, loopy expression a man has after really good sex. I glanced at him, then back at Jessica.
“Where?”
She blushed deeper, if that was possible.
“The bailiff’s room behind Judge Pizaro’s chambers.” I broke into a smile.
“You slut, you.”
She held her left hand out. There was a diamond ring on the second finger. A respectable diamond in a white gold setting.
“Carl?”
She nodded. “When?”
“We got married Sunday. No time for a honeymoon so we’re...”
“Doing it everywhere you can. Well, congratulations, Jessica. You let him make an honest woman out of you. I’m happy for both of you.”
‘It took me a long time, but I finally realized that I didn’t want to live without him. No matter what it cost me.”
I knew what it had cost her.
“You did the right thing, Jessica. Being married is a good thing. And if anybody catches you, at least you’ve got a marriage license.”
“Mr. Maitland?”
Pizarro’s voice cut through our conversation and I looked up to see one of Judy’s sons approaching the witness stand.
“Sorry, your honor.”
We sat down and I heard Judy’s two sons talk about what a loving mother she had been and a good wife to her first husband. I heard them tell Pizaro what a son of a bitch Clark Carroll, the husband she had murdered by messing around with his heart medicine, had been to their mother.
Of course, it had been mental abuse, simply because there weren’t any confirmed medical records of physical abuse and she had never complained of it during their marriage.
Judy followed and told the judge how she has fallen in love with a forceful millionaire and been swept off her feet by him. But, she said, after they’d married he had changed, at least in part because his children hated her and wanted to keep her from inheriting any of his fortune.
He had been insanely jealous and bitter because he was unable to function sexually and made her life a living hell. But he had been clever and kept his torments hidden from the outside world.
She smiled at the judge, a sad smile, as she said, “I’m not proud of what I did, your honor. I cheated on Clark. But I’m not dead yet. I’m a woman with a woman’s urges. I wanted to be with Carroll, but it wasn’t just that he couldn’t physically satisfy me. He was so bitter, so jealous while I was still faithful to him, that we couldn’t even cuddle, couldn’t do the non-sexual things a loving couple can enjoy.
“I turned to another man because I was lonely. I needed a man’s touch. I’m sorry, but I did.”
Then she stared at me, a stare that should have turned water to ice.
“But I did not kill my husband deliberately. Mr. Maitland was able to fool the jury into believing that a mistake was murder. But I didn’t mean to kill him. He made my life a living hell at the end, but I never wanted him dead. I knew he was in pain and he knew I was cheating on him. I was hurting him and I felt guilty about that. But as God is my judge, I did not kill him purposefully.”
Lew had done a good job of preparing her. She actually sounded believable and if she had been testifying before a jury, I might have worried. But she was testifying before a man who had been hearing such statements for 30 years. And he had long ago learned to distinguish truth from bullshit.
When Pizaro called on me I stood up and walked toward Lew’s table.
“Ms. Johansen did a very good job in her testimony. I congratulate Mr. Walters on his preparation. I’m not going to introduce any witnesses and my comments will be short and, I hope, to the point.”
I turned away from Judy and Lew and walked to the center of the courtroom facing Pizaro.
“Your honor, the jury, the triers of fact, have determined that Ms. Johansen with premeditation deliberately gave her husband medication that she knew would kill him. They convicted her of first degree murder. Therefore, her denial of her role in his death simply is of no consequence. It’s moot. The jury said otherwise.
“Ms. Johansen herself admitted on the witness stand that she had ample motive to kill her husband. She took a lover, who testified that she told him she was going to kill Clark Carroll. Even if you believe Ms. Johansen about Mr. Carroll’s alleged abuse, that merely strengthens the argument that she had reason to kill him.
“And finally, it is clear that Ms. Johansen could have easily escaped Mr. Carroll’s abusive ways, simply by divorcing him. But, if she had done that, she would not have been in line to inherit his millions. Thus she had another reason to murder him.”
I looked back at Judy. She had tried so hard. And it was all for nothing. “That will conclude the state’s arguments, your honor.”
Pizaro took a slow and deliberate drink of water from a glass in front of him and then spoke to Judy.
“Ms. Johansen. Would you please stand. Mr. Walters. Mr. Maitland.” I looked at her instead of Pizaro,
“I really don’t need any more time to consider your sentence, Ms. Johansen. Nothing had been said here today that really changes the facts proven in this case. You have been found guilty of premeditated first degree murder. The possible sentence could be death. But in my opinion, this crime does not reach the level where a death sentence could be justified.
“Life in prison without parole is another option. In my judgment, however, this crime not reach that level of punishment either. At your age, I believe a substantial punishment would consist of a mandatory ten-year sentence, without possibility of parole, to be followed by ten years' probation.
“You’re welcome to appeal this sentence, and I expect you will, but considering what you could have faced, I don’t think any appeal will be upheld. And that is another reason for the sentence. I believe it will forestall an avalanche of appeals that will do nothing but further clog up the court system.
“The bailiff will now take you back, Ms. Johansen, and you will be transported to the women’s section of the state’s minimum security prison at Lawtey within the next two days. Good luck to you.”
She just stood there for a long moment, her face frozen in a hopeful smile. One of her sons groaned, another fell back into his seat sobbing. She was their mother. It wasn’t unexpected.
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