Chapter 25

The Trial: 20/20 Hindsight

BEING CALLED AS a witness in the trial meant I was placed under “the Rule,” which, in legal terms, means that you are sworn in as a witness, and that you swear or affirm that you will not listen to or speak to anyone, except the attorneys involved in the case. I took the Rule seriously and did not listen to the testimony or discuss the testimony with any of the witnesses in the case, but later I did research the trial and discuss the case with attorneys, investigators, officers, family members of the victims, and friends. I knew the murders were horrific, but that Eric Williams wanted to send a message with these murders. As I went back through the details of the murders, it was chilling. We know that in this life, we will all die eventually, but a murder is different. A murderer takes everything away from you and your family, senselessly and, in this case, viciously. Murder is the quintessential assaultive crime, but it is a theft too. In fact, it is the worst theft of all, stealing a human life, the ending of their future, and the taking of a family’s joy because of the loss of their loved one. The following are some of my observations of the murders after learning the facts.

Mark

Mark Hasse was the type of man who, upon first observation, seemed nondescript. He had a slight build, and was an average-looking, non-threatening, bespectacled man, but when he opened his mouth, all of that changed. When he talked about the law, he lit up, becoming engaged and full of life. He had a thirty-year repertoire of stories from criminal cases he had reviewed, negotiated, and tried as a prosecutor, special prosecutor, or defense attorney. The good part was that his stories weren’t just lawyer lies—they were true. He took his job seriously.

Mark liked order and he operated his life in an efficient and precise manner. His favorite hobby, aviation, had honed that skill within him. Mark arrived at work on the morning of January 30, 2013. He pulled his car into the county parking lot around 8:30 a.m. He parked his car in the same location at the same time every morning he went to work. He got out of his vehicle, clicking the lock and grabbing his brief case. His briefcase contained work documents, but just as importantly, he had his firearm in his bag. Mark made no secret of carrying a gun. He was a certified peace officer and an ADA, so he had a legal right to carry. He also knew that with a thirty-year history of prosecuting bad people, some of them might want him dead. But that morning, he never got a chance to retrieve his gun from his briefcase.

His assailant was masked, wearing a bulletproof vest, dressed in dark clothes and Army boots. He confronted Mark once he got out of the car. Their exchange was brief, but it was clear they knew each other. Mark uttered the words, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was no mercy in the killer. He raised his arm and shot Mark at point blank range in the chest and finished the job, standing over him; shooting him in the neck, as Mark lay dying in the parking lot. Gunshots rang into the air as the shooter retrieved another gun, all the while pumping the trigger rapidly. The additional gunfire was necessary to keep the crowd at bay (and any would-be witnesses), as the killer got into his car and drove away.

A good Samaritan and then an officer that was first to the scene worked on Mark, giving him chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth, hoping to resuscitate him, as they waited on the ambulance to arrive—to no avail.

The murder was efficient, cold, planned, and daring. Mark was killed in the county parking lot, only yards away from the courthouse. Police vehicles moved around the courthouse square seeking parking places, while citizens hustled to the courthouse attending to their legal affairs; the murderer calmly got into his car and drove away from the crime scene undetected.

The trail had run cold on Mark’s murder, but the killer was not done. He struck again on March 31, 2013.

Mike

A man’s home is his castle. It’s a common saying that epitomizes an understanding of the sanctity of your home. Where you live is important and cherished, since it’s a place that you want to go to be safe.

If you were ever around Mike and Cynthia McLelland, you knew that they were a couple that was still very much in love. They were a mature couple, but their fondness for each other was not dimmed by their years. They enjoyed separate hobbies. Cynthia loved quilting; Mike was a former military man and amateur military historian. They had purchased a newer home for entertaining and had moved from nearby Terrell to Forney, a larger, more sprawling residence. They were proud of their new home purchase.

When the slaughter began at the residence on Blarney Stone Way, the door was unlocked, there was no indication of forced entry, and Cynthia was near the front door. She was clad in only a night shirt, but I believe she trusted the man who appeared to be a deputy on the other side of the door’s entrance. Turning on the porch light, and cracking the door a smidge to ask the officer to wait while they dressed, the door was forced open. The killer pushed her back from the entryway and shot Cynthia. The trajectory of the shot traveled throughout her body, causing damage in its wake.

That morning Mike was clad only in sweats and flip-flops. It seemed that after he heard the gunfire, he went for his cache of weapons that had been safely put away because of an Easter egg hunt later that day with small children. He never made it to his firepower; his body was riddled with gunshot wounds.

There were over twenty shots that were fired in the home and they knew that the carnage took two minutes because of a timer that was attached to a burglar alarm at the home. The alarm had been purchased and installation started two months earlier after Mark was killed, but the alarm system installation was never completed.

As the murderer exited the residence, he thought his carnage was complete, until Cynthia moaned. Her assailant unmercifully shot her as she clung to life, exiting their home at 6:42 a.m. The killer had expressed to his wife that Cynthia was collateral damage and he couldn’t leave a witness behind. Like Mark’s crime scene, the assailant calmly got into his vehicle and drove away. No one stopped him. There was no encounter. No one heard the gunshots and called the police. There was no chase that ensued. The killer thought as he did before he had gotten away with murder again. His plan was to continue down his list … he had other targets to hit.