Deceptive Courtroom Calm

A video played on the screen inside Room 6A Monday morning as a spectacular murder trial got underway in Connecticut Superior Court on Church Street — a video, like much of the rest of the day’s proceedings, imbued with an eerie, deceptive sense of calm.

The video played in the courtroom of Judge Jon C. Blue. Blue is presiding over the long-awaited trial of Steven Hayes, the first of two men accused of a murder the brutality of which startled the nation, the July 2007 murder Jennifer Hawke-Petit and her two daughters in Cheshire.

In the video, Hawke-Petit seemingly returned to life as she stood, looking tired but focused, at a Bank of America counter on the morning of July 23, 2007 and requested a withdrawal of $15,000 from the joint savings account she shared with husband, William Petit.

The teller, Kristin Makhzangi, listened to Petit’s patient explanation that her family was held hostage at home. She called the bank manager over to assist with the urgent transaction.

The video was the most powerful image of Monday’s proceedings. It was not a continuous feed, but more like a series of jerky, fast-moving stills of the transaction in progress. 

Two witnesses, employees of the bank, took the stand and testified about what was in the video.

Bank of America branch manager Mary Lyons spoke of how she checked other Petit family accounts that might cover this request and asked for ID. She testified about how, when Petit opened her wallet, shes could see only a picture of her daughters inside.

“I looked at the pictures, and we locked into each other’s eyes and I knew I had to help her,” explained Lyons.

Both Lyons and the second witness used the same word to describe Jennifer Hawkes-Petit’s manner during the scene captured on video: ​“calm.”

Only the fact that ​“her hands were a little shaky” gave hint to the panic she undoubtedly was feeling, Lyons testified.

The victim on screen was calm. The defendant whose life is at risk in the courtroom was calm. The lawyer trying to save his life, the lawyer seeking to convict him, the witnesses who took the stand were all calm. Everyone but the judge, it seems, was calm.

The calm was a veneer covering wells of emotion, events with life-or-death consequences, and the strategies of the drama’s two legal teams.

At 9:23 a.m., the video abruptly ended with an empty frame where Mrs. Petit had been patiently standing, but now had suddenly disappeared.

Calm was the last emotion many of us expected to find in Courtroom 6A at the long-awaited onset of the trial against Hayes, who stands accused of 17 crimes including capital felony murder, sexual assault, kidnapping, arson, burglary, and assault.

But beginning with a gentle drizzle all morning, the mood throughout the day remained low-key and sedate.

The specifics of these crimes are horrific and unfathomable, but it is the randomness of how the Petit family was chosen to suffer that strikes the greatest fear in our hearts. That fear seemed veiled or subdued Monday by the tone of professional calm surrounding the news trucks parked along the curb outside the courthouse, as well as the reporters lined up early inside for a seat in one of the first two rows set aside for them behind the defense table.

Judge Sets A Tone

The only source of nervous energy and anticipation came from Judge Blue, who unexpectedly appeared in the hallway before the courtroom was opened and casually answered a few reporters’ questions regarding the schedule as well as the gag order in place. Later, the judge popped in and out of the courtroom at least a dozen times . He offered advice on seating. (It’s the law of the jungle, first-come first-served; perhaps the reporters could alternate seats like a volleyball team?). He equated the blocked visibility of the big screen used for exhibits to an obstructed view at Fenway Park. He reminisced about the standing-room-only experiences he enjoyed while seeing Broadway plays in college. He seemed to be trying to eliminate any tension and unease with gentle humor and conviviality; since I normally only see him sitting quietly alone at the counters of neighborhood restaurants during weekday lunch breaks, I found this side of him a bit surprising.

He smiled sweetly at each juror who was called in individually for a final assessment of their ability to sit on the jury. (Three were excused for bias or conflicts that arose since they were originally picked months ago). He greeted each one with a sincere ​“nice to see you again.” Just as he was beginning to seem more captain of a cruise ship, than judge overseeing a murder trial, Blue exclaimed to the jury, ​“Welcome aboard!” And the trial began.

Despite the emotionally-charged scenes underlying the case, the two attorneys — New Haven State’s Attorney Michael Dearington and Public Defender Thomas Ullmann — delivered low-key opening statements While the opening and closing statements are not evidence, they are powerful tools of persuasion or, as Judge Blue explained to the jury, a ​“preview of the coming attractions.”

Dearington, standing still and looking directly at the jury, declineded to give an overview of the case due to the length of time that would entail. He simply stated his confidence in the jury to render a just and fair decision about ​“what, if any, involvement” the defendant had in committing the crimes for which he is on trial.

Dearington’s calm demeanor made sense, because the guilt phase of this trial is almost a formality.

In keeping with that notion, Tom Ullmann kept his statement short, reading most of it from his notes, and acknowledging that Hayes sexually assaulted and murdered Jennifer Hawke-Petit. He said that Hayes stated that it got ​“way out of control” and ​“no one was supposed to get hurt.”

Ullmann’s true objective at this trial is to try to save Hayes’ life by shifting the blame for the escalation of violence on Hayes’ co-defendant, Joshua Komisarjevsky, who will face trial in a few months.

In an almost hushed tone, Ullmann said that he and his co-cousel, Patrick Culligan, were ​“profoundly sad” by these events.

“Be The Change”

One by one, each of the five witnesses Monday — nurse Mona Huggard, who worked with William Petit; the two bank employees, neighbor David Simcik, who found Dr. Petit lying beaten in his driveway; and Cheshire Police Officer Thomas Right — each calmly and methodically answered the questions posed to them.

Steven Hayes, dressed in khaki pants and a striped, short-sleeved shirt, quietly rocked from side to side in his chair and occasionally spun around to look at the clock on the back wall. William Petit, surrounded by a large contingent of his close-knit family, sat calmly, foot jiggling often. He chewed gum for a while, holding the pew in front of him with his left hand as if to brace himself. On his wrist was a pink and green wristband reading, ​“Be the Change.” On his lapel, and on those of his extended family, were pins in the shape of a heart. 

The somewhat sedate proceedings were punctuated a couple of times, when Lyons, the bank manager, choked up in recalling the calm Jennifer Hawke-Petit’s bravery; when Simcik, following his description of how he and his wife discussed the mundane task of disposing grass clippings at the transfer station, discovered William Petit in a mess of blood, initially recognizable only by his voice; and when Officer Right was asked what he found on the second floor of the Petit home after the fire was extinguished.

But, again, it was Lyons and the haunting image of that video of Jennifer Petit calmly trying to secure the cash needed to free her family that provided such a jarring juxtaposition of calm and utter fear. In Lyons’ 911 call, played for the courtroom, she told the dispatcher in a composed manner that Jennifer Petit was ​“calm,” but ​“could have been petrified,” and that Petit described the captors as ​“being very nice.”

Listening to this, we could imagine that Petit still held hope that the money would suffice to appease the captors and save her family, and that she went about that goal with a steady determination. At that point, she could not know what we now know about how that morning would end.

Editor’s Note: Local attorney Katie Rohner will be keeping a courtroom diary of the Petit trial for the Independent.