Chapter 18

De-Robed

ON DAY FIFTEEN of the detail, the federal agents met with the Immigration Customs Enforcement supervisor and determined that the threat as it existed two weeks prior had lessened. They, after getting my input, agreed that despite the detail’s initial twenty-one day assignment to protect my family and me, they should be relieved of their obligation due to Eric Williams’s detention.

Although they had Williams in custody on a different charge, authorities knew they had the right man for the McLellands’ murders. Now, everyone felt that it was simply a matter of time before they would be able to connect Williams to Mark Hasse’s murder too.

With Eric Williams in custody, I was sure police would question his wife, Kim. Without her husband there to coach and give her mock support, I believed she would cooperate or at least be advised by her attorneys to cooperate with the special prosecutors. Once the net started to tighten, it would be too much for her to remain stoic and silent. Either way, I suspected she had to have knowledge of her husband’s participation in the three murders. There is no way that you can live with someone and not know.

My suspicions were confirmed when Kim Williams was questioned. To most observers it was shocking, the level of her participation. I always suspected that she was more than the weak, drug-addled halfwit that many courthouse people believed her to be, but even I was surprised that she was the getaway driver in both crimes.

The Williamses had put their “kill game” into action and become a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde: by Kim Williams’s account, it seemed that she had taken criminal action right alongside her husband. He would not have been as successful in his crimes if he had to commit the murders and then drive away from the scenes as well.

Besides the investigation, the appointment for District Attorney was heating up. After twenty-one days, the interim appointee would need to be replaced by the appointed DA. That deadline was fast approaching. Even though I had won the governor’s support for the appointment, I still needed the Senate to act on the appointment through confirmation.

On Wednesday, April 17, 2013, Darrell Davila delivered the news I was waiting to hear: I had received Senate confirmation. State Senator Bob Deuell, who represented District Two and consequently Kaufman County, moved for consent of my appointment of the Kaufman Criminal District Attorney. State Senator Royce West, a Democrat from a Dallas district, joined him. It was nice to have a second from across the aisle, meaning confirmation from both Republicans and Democrats. That bipartisanship agreement proved to everyone that I had earned this appointment.

Senator West and I had been longtime associates. In my early years as a prosecutor in Dallas, he’d offered advice freely about the practice of law and some of the pitfalls that could befall young prosecutors making their way in legal practice. He was one of the first African American prosecutors hired in the later years of the former famous Dallas Criminal District Attorney Henry Wade, who held office for over thirty years, from 1951 to 1987.

Of course, Davila did not know about my history with Senator West. During our telephone call, he assured me that West’s remarks on the Senate floor were warm and heartfelt, and that it was nice that my senator was joined by a Democrat with Senator West’s gravitas. Furthermore, he told me I was unanimously confirmed by the entire Senate body.

Davila passed his congratulations along, but reminded me that the swearing-in needed to happen soon. I told him that between balancing my work schedule and organizing an impromptu ceremony, Monday, April 22 would be the earliest date we could do it. He agreed, and I set out to meet the deadline.

I had friends from our local women’s group offer to prepare the snacks for the swearing-in ceremony. We anticipated that since there was no time for invitations and no one knew about the swearing-in, except by word of mouth, the crowd would be no more than fifty people. We anticipated friends, family, local officials, and organizations to attend

After the senate confirmation hearing, the rest of that week flew by.

Before I left on Friday for the weekend and my last official week as a judge, Katie and I put together a program for the swearing-in ceremony. It would open with prayer from Monsignor Duffey, an affable priest at Saint Martin of Tours, my local parish in Forney. Everyone loved him. He usually joked, even in his homily, and he was great with children. As he preached, he usually quizzed some of the kids on Biblical facts. Correct answers often earned them five bucks from his own pockets. This meant that the kids usually sat on the front row and tried to answer his questions. It was a great way to get them engaged in their faith.

After Monsignor opened in prayer, Katie’s eight-year old daughter Gracie would lead the Pledge of Allegiance. Gracie was excited to have the chance to lead the pledge in front of a crowd besides a group of second graders. Judge Chitty would then make some personal remarks. Finally, Chief Justice Carolyn Wright of the Texas 5th Court of Appeals would swear me in. She was a professional associate and mentor to many women. She always had time to lend support to a fellow woman. She had agreed on short notice to attend and do the honors. Chief Justice Wright was a formidable presence. She rarely entered a room without you knowing she was there. Her presence, demeanor, and voice all commanded respect. And she deserved every bit of it: Chief Justice Wright had made her mark on Texas history by becoming the first African American woman to serve on the 5th Court of Appeals. I felt honored that she had made the time to swear me in.

Meanwhile, that weekend was the first one without my detail, or my shadows as I’ve often jokingly referred to them. It seemed like they had protected my family and me for a lifetime, but in fact it had only been fifteen days. I missed them individually, but I also enjoyed the freedoms that I had not had in a couple of weeks: going outside and walking the dog; running errands without making the security detail aware of my plans; and just getting to be spontaneous again.

Most importantly, it felt liberating to not have to worry that my would-be assailant would confront my security detail in the middle of night or in the early morning hours, like he had with the McLellands. I knew it was irrational, but sometimes I had wondered whether the person would want to go out in a “blaze of glory” and try to use my home and children as the instruments of that plan.

I thank God that we were never tested that way.

Despite all that, I tried to push my appointment and the case to the back of my mind. I had some personal family matters that had been on hold for weeks, like visiting my elderly aunt, who lived in Garland. I further had emails and texts from concerned friends and relatives to answer, and was in the midst of preparing for Brad’s graduation.

Graduation was less than a month away and the invitations hadn’t been sent. To be honest, they had not even been prepared. Even though eighteen-year-olds can easily do this themselves, it seems that the responsibility of stuffing and addressing invitations, buying and stamping envelopes, is often shared equally by mother and graduate.

We were also in the beginning throes of high school baseball playoff season. Jacob, who was a sophomore, needed some attention. Among other things, he was bitter about his sophomore baseball year. At the beginning of spring practice, he broke a finger, which took him out of play for the season. (Who knew a pinky finger could do all that?) I needed to get him back to the orthopedist to make sure he was released for summer baseball.

Yes, my job was all consuming—that a murder suspect was hunting me and my family was still unbelievable—but being a mom never stopped.

So, with Katie’s help, the preparations for the swearing-in were complete. She and I parted ways, sentimental about the upcoming changes, but hopeful about the future. With my plans in place, I once again focused on my family and their lives, relieved that the ceremony on Monday would be a quiet, local event and thankful to enjoy my first weekend without my security detail.

WHAT I HAD envisioned on Monday was not what I walked into at 9 a.m. on Monday morning. There were people coming in and out of my office. It was complete chaos.

“Judge, D Magazine is going to be here to cover the swearing-in,” Katie said as I walked in.

Before I could answer she rushed on.

“I got a call from the Dallas DA’s office,” she said, ushering me into my office and closing the door. “Heath Harris, the first assistant, is trying to confirm the time. He says that they are coming. Michelle Stambaugh (the head administrative assistant for the Kaufman County Criminal DA’s office) wants to know if she needs to get the attorneys’ affidavits prepared. All the ADAs need to be sworn in after you. Angie (the County Judge’s secretary) wants to know if she needs to get the bond prepared for you, for the District Attorney, because your judge’s bond for you now will be insufficient once you are no longer a judge. My phone has been ringing nonstop.” She finally breathed and then added, “I think we are going to have a crowd.”

Once she finished, I opened my mouth to speak, but Scott Smith, my court reporter, stuck his head into my office. The hallway was buzzing and Katie’s office was starting to fill up with people needing information about the swearing-in.

“Judge, I called from my office, but no one here picked up,” Scott said, glancing at Katie.

“I’m a little busy here,” she snapped back, pointing to the obvious chaos of her office.

Now, Scott is a gentleman. His appearance is always that of a mature, well-dressed man. He possesses a skill set that is lamentedly outdated for men in Texas state courtrooms. He was a male court reporter who had come out of retirement to report for me after my former court reporter resigned to spend more time with her children. Scott had the opposite problem—with time on his hands, he realized he might have retired too soon from the Dallas courts. So this position had been a perfect fit for him.

“Hey Katie, I’m not judging you,” he said. “It’s a mess out there. The hallway is milling with people. Some people thought the swearing-in was at 10 this morning, instead of 1:30 this afternoon. I’m still trying to figure out how they even knew about it.”

“I have no idea,” Katie said, looking at me.

“I don’t even have a Facebook and you know I didn’t send out invitations, or rather, you didn’t,” I said, hands raised in the air, a common motion indicating surrender. “This is strictly word of mouth. Who knew this would happen?!”

Scott returned to the subject he came into the office about.

“I’ve got voice messages on my machine from seven different people asking about the swearing-in and wanting to know the time,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

I sprang into action, ticking off a list.

“Scott, go through your phone messages,” I said. “Use your best judgment, but for the most part, anyone that wants to come to my swearing-in, I’m honored for them to be there. I will be the Kaufman County Criminal DA in a few hours and if they want to show support, it’s a good thing. I’m going to need it. This isn’t a secret ceremony. It will happen right here in my courtroom. Based on the number of calls that have been coming to you and Katie, we may have to come up with some more food. Katie can you order some trays from Brookshire’s (the local grocery store)? We’ll take anything. Get some for the reception and something for here in the office. I don’t think we are getting lunch today. Can you get the sandwiches or do we need to get someone else to pick them up? When do you have pick up Gracie from school?”

“Let me make some calls,” Katie said, smiling. “Brookshire’s can usually make it happen if I can call them before 10. I’m picking Gracie up around noon. I need time to change her clothes out of her school uniform and tidy up her hair. I’ve got my curling iron. I can touch you up, too, Judge.”

“I’ll clear the hall,” Scott said, interrupting the conversation. “I will let people know to come back at 1:30, for the big event,” he finished, with a quick wink.

“My new bond, the ADAs’ affidavits—is there anything else that we haven’t thought about?” But before Katie could answer my question, I continued, “You mentioned that the other County offices are calling about getting some of the paperwork in order, let them do it.”

“I’ve got it, Judge,” she said, still smiling. “Just wanted to make sure with you before I called them back. By the way, Scott, Judge, there is a guy in the hall with his attorney. They’re from out of town. The defendant wants to plead guilty and accept the State’s offer. They are not set today. Nothing is set today, but it is a case assigned to this court. Do you want me to tell him to come back?”

She knew the answer.

“Of course not,” I said.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost 9:30. I looked at Scott.

“Can you be ready to take a record by 10?” I asked.

It may be the last plea I take, I thought.

“Sure, that works,” Scott said.

I turned to Katie.

“Call the DA’s office upstairs,” I said. “Make sure there is a DA available to sign him up for the plea and that they are in agreement.”

“I can do that, Judge,” Katie said.

I looked at them. My eyes misted.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” I said, my voice cracking.

Neither one would make eye contact with me. I knew Katie’s eyes were dewy. She had been that way for the last couple of days, but Scott’s eyes were moist now, too. He ducked his head and went out of the door before I could confirm my suspicions.

FROM NOON ON, events were a blur. My friends, family, and work colleagues were unbelievable in their support. After the morning confusion, things happened as if they had been perfectly planned.

My husband arrived along with other family members, including the kids, my dad, my aunt, and some of my cousins from nearby Dallas. The noise from the hallway gradually grew in volume. The fifty people we anticipated had grown to almost two hundred guests. Among the number were judges (county, state, and appellate), DAs from surrounding counties, Texas state senators and representatives, and throngs of attorneys and other well-wishers.

D Magazine and the local media, along with a photographer and the publicity chair of the Kaufman County Republican Women’s organization, all wanted to document this event. It was a big deal for the women of Dallas. In fact, media kept calling it landmark. I was awestruck. I never thought that there would be such interest in me accepting this position.

The photographer from D Magazine snapped pictures and interviewed both me and Aaron. We promised D that when the swearing-in was over, we would go downstairs for an impromptu photo shoot in the courthouse basement.

Chief Justice Wright arrived and ironed out details I had not thought about. Before the ceremony, she made me sit down with her, gather my thoughts, and become aware of the magnitude of the moment that was going to happen in a few minutes. The enormity of what had happened in Kaufman County and that the position that I had accepted had drawn the attention of the state and perhaps the nation.

“Judge,” she said. “Erleigh, you are going to be the first judge I have ever de-robed and it will be my pleasure.” She paused, and then continued, “I want you to know that I am proud of you. I remember you as that young DA in Dallas and now here you are. You will become the first female African American Criminal District Attorney in the state of Texas. Not that I’m surprised.”

I knew she was trying to put me at ease. Nonetheless, I was privately speaking with one of the most powerful judges in the state. Without a doubt, she was the highest-ranking African American female jurist in the state at the time.

Then, it was 1:30. It was time.

Chief Justice Wright and I walked out to stand on my bench together. To accommodate the two of us standing on the judge’s platform, the chair where I usually sat had been removed from the bench.

What I saw when I walked into my courtroom shocked me: the turnout was unbelievable! While I knew that Katie had said there was a growing crowd, it was still more people than I expected. My courtroom was filled beyond capacity. The small local swearing-in had turned into a spectacle. It was standing room only, and viewers had spilled out into the hallway and down the corridor of the courthouse. Someone had added seating in the well of the court, where the attorneys and defendants normally stood in front of the bench. The jury box was full.

I stood behind Chief Justice Wright when we walked out on the bench to begin the ceremony. She must have sensed my uneasiness, because when I joined her to stand beside her on the platform, she grabbed my hand.

I didn’t hesitate: I took it and I held on.