Chapter 9 - The Trial Begins-9
On Monday morning, the San Diego County Superior Courthouse was surrounded by satellite news vans, press reporters, and courtroom observers. The trial of The State of California v. Evelyn Miller had drawn massive national media attention.
Inside Department 14, the gallery was completely filled.
I sat in the front row of the prosecution gallery beside Marcus Vance. Brandon sat three rows behind us, wearing a dark suit, his face pale and eyes shadowed, flanked by a court-appointed victim advocate.
Evelyn Miller was led into the courtroom by two sheriff deputies. She was dressed in a dark grey sweater and pants provided by her legal defense team, but no amount of civilian clothing could hide the reality of her situation. She moved with a slow, hesitant shuffle, staring straight ahead, avoiding the glares of the jury box.
Honorable Judge Robert Sterling took the bench, tapping his gavel twice.
“Court is now in session,” Judge Sterling announced. “Opening statements by the Prosecution.”
Prosecutor Helen Vance stood up, walked to the center of the courtroom, and turned to face the twelve members of the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Prosecutor Vance began, her voice steady, clear, and ringing with absolute conviction. “This is a case about ultimate betrayal. It is a case about a woman who looked at the pure, innocent trust of her five-year-old granddaughter and saw nothing more than a financial solution to her own gambling debts.”
Prosecutor Vance walked over to the evidence table and held up a sealed plastic display case containing thirty-six small, silver Neodymium magnetic spheres.
“These thirty-six pieces of high-powered steel,” Prosecutor Vance continued, holding the display in front of the jury box, “were fed to five-year-old Nancy Miller one by one. The defendant told the child they were 'magic silver fish.' She told the child to keep it a secret from her mother. And while those magnets were attracting each other through the child’s intestinal walls, causing life-threatening perforations, the defendant sat in a luxury nail salon in La Jolla, waiting for her granddaughter to die so she could collect two million dollars.”
In the jury box, several jurors leaned back in shock, their eyes darting over to Evelyn with visible condemnation.
Prosecutor Vance then pulled down a large projection screen and clicked a remote control.
The dining room security video played across the two massive monitors mounted on the courtroom walls.
The clear, high-definition audio filled the silent courtroom:
“These are magic silver fish. They’re shiny little candies that give you super powers. But you can only eat them if you promise not to tell your mother...”
In the defense chair, Evelyn buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Her defense attorney tried to hand her a tissue, but she pushed his hand away.
Across the room, three jurors took rapid notes, their faces set in hard, uncompromising lines.
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Prosecutor Vance turned back to the jury, her voice dropping into a powerful, quiet cadence.
“The defense will attempt to tell you that Evelyn Miller is a frail, confused old woman who made a tragic mistake,” Prosecutor Vance concluded. “The evidence will prove to you that she is a calculating predator. And by the time this trial concludes, justice will demand that she never walks free in civil society again.”
