That evening, members of the Fourth Street Church of Christ met in the sanctuary for their regular Wednesday night service. Jeremy Weekley, who assumed Matt’s position as pulpit minister the summer after his death, prayed for the church body to find strength to persevere in the weeks ahead. He made a special appeal for God’s blessing on those among them who would testify at Mary Winkler’s trial.
At the McNairy County Justice Center, they prepared for the media onslaught, setting up a designated room for their use. Inside the building, they replaced burned-out light bulbs, cleaned and made repairs. Outside, they spruced up the grounds, mowing the grass and trimming the shrubs. The sheriff reviewed security concerns and assigned tasks for the trial. A lot of people in Selmer were looking forward to when it would all be over—no one more than Sheriff Roten.
Anxiety ruled the day for the 160 county residents selected for the jury pool—some were eager to serve, others filled with dread. One willing man went out to the farmers’ supply store and purchased an automatic goat feeder. He was certain he’d be chosen, and he didn’t want his livestock going hungry. He didn’t make the cut.
An unwilling candidate, who worked out of an office in her home, fretted over her wardrobe. “I don’t have enough nice clothes to last three weeks.” She didn’t have to worry, she was not selected.
At least one person who received a summons was not anxious at all. Sharyn Everitt, who lived across the street from the Winklers on Mollie Drive, and once had a run-in with Matt over her dog, was certain she would not make the final panel. She was right.
The questioning began on the morning of Monday, April 9. They came in to face the attorneys seven at a time. They were asked about their knowledge of the case, their willingness to set aside pre-formed opinions and their ability to give Mary a fair trial. Other topics covered included domestic abuse, brainwashing, the appropriateness of lying to children and familiarity with firearms and gun safety. By the end of this first day, only fourteen prospective jurors had crossed that hurdle.
By the end of Tuesday, the count was up to forty-two, but that was not sufficient for Judge Weber McCraw—things had to move faster. He ordered that the groups be doubled in size for Wednesday’s session to fourteen jurors at a time. His plan worked. By the end of court on Wednesday, a panel of sixteen was selected. Although four of the chosen were alternates, no one—not even the jurors themselves—would know who they were until it was time for deliberations to begin.
The group consisted of twelve women and four men. The state had eliminated prospective panelists of both genders. The defense reserved all of their strikes for males in the pool. The jurors ranged in age from 20 to 62, and were predominately white—only two were black, no surprise in a county where the population was 92 percent Caucasian. Among the group was a truck driver, a drafter, a machinist, two factory workers, a retired Baptist minister, a secretary, a teacher’s aide and a handful of house wives.
The judge passed out an information sheet reminding them that they needed to be prepared when they returned to court in the morning. They should bring enough clothing and prescription medications for two weeks, make sure their bills were all paid and arrange for mail pick-up in their absence. First thing in the morning, their real lives were put on hold.
Their temporary quarters were a mile from the courthouse at Southwood Inn. Televisions, telephones and radios were removed from their rooms. Even the newspaper box outside was shrouded with a black plastic garbage bag by order of Judge Weber McCraw.
They could not bring their cell phones or laptops. They were not allowed to visit the motel’s breakfast room or leave the facility for any reason unless accompanied by authorities.
The expense of the trial for this county of less than 25,000 residents, with its low tax base, was staggering. The state government would pick up some of the bills, but they did not cover the overtime accrued by deputies having to guard the courtroom by day and the jurors by night. Nor did they cover the cost of the jurors’ lodging. At $69 per night, the county’s outlay there alone could easily exceed the ten-thousand-dollar mark before trial’s end.
On Thursday, April 12, Mary Winkler entered the courtroom, with a cross around her neck, a wedding band on her finger and a prayer in her heart, to face the judgment of her peers.