It's not like TV

By Jeff Orvis

When the message came asking if I would be willing to cover a murder trial that had been moved from Iowa County to Davenport, it didn't take me more than a minute to agree. While it's true that I had never spent more than an hour or two in a courtroom, being excused from jury duty three times, I figured I had seen enough trials portrayed on TV, it should be easy.

The trial involved a first degree murder case. The defendant had been the operator of a restaurant in Belle Plaine. She was accused of conspiring to kill her common-law husband in an elaborate scheme to end years of physical, sexual and emotional abuse. I was acquainted with Denise from her work in restoring and opening the restaurant. I had been in her establishment a couple of times and she always seemed cordial, hardly the type who would one day admit that she and two others bashed in the head of another.

As the day approached for the opening of the trial, I became a bit anxious about some things that would later seem quite trivial. What would be the proper thing to wear? How stern would the judge be? Would there be anyone else in the courtroom I had ever met besides the defendant?

The first day of the trial was taken with jury selection. There must have been 100 or more Scott County residents in the courtroom, most probably hoping somebody else would be called to sit on the 15-member jury (12 jurors and three alternates). Few were dressed better than I was. I figured business casual would be appropriate.

I soon determined that a real trial is not quite like a 60-minute TV drama. First off, I noticed that as the day began, we didn't stand when the judge entered the room, but once the jury was chosen, we were asked to stand when the jurors came into the room. The judge didn't use a gavel, but we all knew when things were underway. The trial was held in one of the larger courtrooms in the courthouse. There were no windows and the seats for spectators were hard, non-padded church pews. Apparently aware of this, the judge, who seemed like a nice guy with a tough job to do, gave us frequent breaks during the nine-day event. He was also a stickler for the time, starting court promptly at 9 a.m., breaking for lunch at noon and ending each day at 4:30 p.m.

I had never met the victim. But when the prosecution spent the better part of one session showing graphic crime scene and autopsy photos, I wondered how anyone could do that to a fellow human being. When it was the defense's turn to present evidence and the defendant's psychologist took the stand and related what she had been told about the couple's relationship, I wondered how a man could do that to a woman he professed to love.

The trial drew few spectators. One woman had served on a jury for another of the three defendants and she was at this trial to observe most days. On only a couple of occasions did I see anyone there to support the defendant. By the second day, when she entered the courtroom, she recognized me as a former Belle Plaine person and we nodded to each other.

During breaks in the proceedings, several of the attorneys for both sides were very friendly. When I explained that this was my first trial after 35 years in the news business, they were willing to explain some of the procedures to me and also make some off-the-record comments that helped me understand what was happening and why. They even displayed some humor in this very serious situation. One of the attorneys kept looking for the TV reporters, claiming he had a deal with a local restaurant in his hometown and when they appeared, he was going to wear a sign on his back advertising the restaurant.

After the prosecution explained the crime and outlined its claim on how the defendant and the other two had planned the murder, the defense attempted to explain that the defendant was the victim of battered woman syndrome. "Somebody was going to die" is how the lead defense attorney began his opening statement.

On the eighth day of the trial, the jury got the case. After about four hours of deliberation, the day ended with no verdict. The next morning, the jury returned and an hour later, the verdict was in. Denise Frei was convicted of first-degree murder, the third defendant to receive the same judgment. She was placed in handcuffs and began her journey to a permanent life in prison. Several relatives of the victim, including his 16-year-old son, remained in the courtroom after the the proceedings. They were happy with the verdict, but two years after their loved one was killed, there seemed to be more relief that it was all over, than jubilation with the result.

After all, up until that fateful night in July, 2009, many of those left behind considered Frei to be a friend living a good life in a small town.

Maybe in an attempt to put the gruesome details of the crime out of my mind for a few minutes, during some of the breaks, I wondered how attorneys, judges, deputies present in the courtroom, court attendants and others could spend hour after hour, for days on end for much of their careers working in a windowless room. When I thought about the victim and defendant, I wondered how men and women could live like that, dominating someone else in the name of love and staying in an abusive situation.

It made me so thankful that I never had to personally experience that lifestyle. It also made me quite grateful to see the sunshine at the end of each day of the trial.