The Death Shift by Peter Elkind

Author:Peter Elkind
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: e9781682301586
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-11-10T05:00:00+00:00

PART FOUR

Judicious Silence

…The committee, in general, recommends judicious silence…

Minutes, Pediatric ICU Policy and

Planning Committee, January 13, 1983

Eighteen

When Ron Sutton first heard about the death of Chelsea Ann McClellan, he was busy licking the wounds from the worst humiliation of his career. As prosecutor for the 198th Judicial District, a vast Central Texas territory, Sutton had tackled the Brady triple murder case—a horrible shotgun slaying of a mother, her daughter, and a family friend. Three times, Sutton had gone to court, intent on putting a murderer behind bars. Three times, he had come up empty. Sutton’s first suspect had won a mistrial, then was tried a second time and acquitted. Sutton eventually acknowledged he had prosecuted the wrong man, and he charged a second suspect with the murders. But after a grueling six-week trial, a jury returned a verdict of not guilty. Sutton had triumphed in hundreds of cases during his five years as district attorney. But for the moment, none of them mattered. He had lost the Big One.

Ronald Leon Sutton wasn’t the sort of man to greet conspicuous defeat lightly. At thirty-eight, he had ambitions, dreams of statewide office. The Brady embarrassment might well have dashed them forever. But Sutton had little time to brood. His district sprawled over five rural Texas counties covering more than 5,300 square miles—an area four times the size of Rhode Island. There were dozens of cases to try, and no one else to take them to court; the 198th Judicial District had only one full-time prosecutor on its payroll. Sutton returned home and set himself to work.

Home was Junction, Texas, population 2,593, the seat of Kimble County. Sixty miles west of Kerrville, twice that distance from San Antonio, Junction was typical of the little towns that dotted the Texas Hill Country. Most of its residents were ranchers, who raised sheep and goats and ran a few cattle. Many grew pecans and leased sections of their property during hunting season to city slickers who liked to shoot game. The only child of Baptist parents, Sutton had grown up in Junction. His father had owned a pecan and fur warehouse on the downtown square. Sutton’s law office was across the street.

The DA carried his heritage into the courtroom, where he cultivated the image of a simple country lawyer. At the beginning of every jury trial, he introduced himself as Ronnie, then spoke for several minutes about his small-town roots. The prosecutor’s appearance buttressed the impression. Sutton was a burly man, with a round, ruddy face, short neck, and big gut. Shuffling about a courtroom, he looked ill at ease in his rumpled suit; he was quick to ask judges for permission to shed his jacket and yank loose his tie. Jurors could easily imagine the prosecutor more at home in blue jeans on his back porch, shooting the breeze with a few buddies and downing six-packs. In truth, there was much of the good ol’ boy in Ronnie Sutton. But there was also an undeniable element of calculation in the image.

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