COLUMN ONE: Justice Servedor Subverted?

Judge Dalzell began to turn the pages of the petition.

Here were photos of Laurie Show's neck wound: 5 inches side to side, 2
inches in width, the widest portion at least an inchandaquarter deep.
Here was a speech expert declaring unequivocally that given the nature of
this severe wound, Laurie Show's dying declaration"Michelle did it"was
impossible.

Here were photos showing that a dying Laurie had written Butch and
Tabitha's initials in blood on her hallway walls. Here were reports of
Tabitha's earlier fights with Laurie. Here was mention of an earring found
on the victim's body that matched one worn by Butch. Here was an eyewitness
account of Butch at the murder scene. Here were claims of altered evidence,
missing evidence, hidden evidence.

On page 31, Judge Dalzell saw a particularly startling charge: that the
prosecutor had tampered with Lisa Lambert's expert witness, a pathologist
named Isidore Mihalakis.

Before trial, Assistant Dist. Atty. John Kenneff had called Mihalakis to
say he was "displeased and disappointed" that he was working for Lisa
Lambert and was "concerned" about the county hiring him for "future cases."
At a hearing held after this contact came to light, Mihalakis denied that
Kenneff's comments affected him. But at the trial, much to Lisa's lawyer's
surprise, Mihalakis sounded like a witness for the prosecution.

Where he'd earlier stated that Lisa couldn't have forced the knife into
Laurie's bone as hard as the evidence indicated, now he said she could.
Where he'd once stated it was highly unlikely that Laurie could have
talked, now he said her ability to speak was compromised but not
eliminated. The change in Mihalakis' fortunes after this testimony was
striking: His income from his work as a state expert quadrupled the next
year from less than $10,000 to $41,919.

On other pages, Dalzell could see something even more interesting: Butch
Yunkin's apparent confession to the murder. It came in a letter exchanged
between Butch and Lisa while both sat in prison awaiting trial.

"Listen to me," Lisa wrote. "I guess I won't tell on you, BUT PLEASE answer
these questions honestly. There are some things I need to know if I'm
supposed to take the Blame for WHAT YOU DID! MAIL THESE BACK TO ME."

There had been 29 questions in all.

WILL you promise TO love me if I lie for you? Butch's answer: Always +
Forever.

Will you always stick WITH me as long as I still don't tell that YOU held
Laurie down FOR Tabby? Butch's answer: Will always love you.

Do you PROMISE to not BEAT my face up anymore, if I lie 4 U? That's WHY I
Had said "I HATED you!" Will you be nice like our 1st date? Butch's answer:
Yes

Are you sure that if I take the blame for you THAT I'll get less time.
Absolutely sure? Butch's answer: Yes Should I STILL cover up that YOU
helped Tabby KILL Laurie? Are you absolutely sure? Butch's answer: Yes, I'm
positive.

>From the record before him, Dalzell could see this letter had been
introduced at Lisa's trial. Butch, on the witness stand, had called it a
fake. Butch: the prosecution's star witness.

What to make of all this? The claims were troubling, but criminal cases
always involve a hodgepodge of murky detail; prosecutors and defense
attorneys constantly battle over whose version of events should prevail.
The authorities who prosecuted Lisa had explanations for everything. The
state's conduct in the Lambert case hadn't in the least bothered
Pennsylvania state trial and appellate judges. Why, then, should it concern
a federal judge?

A BlueBlood 'LawandOrder' Judge

A graduate of the law school and the Wharton School of Economics at the
University of Pennsylvania, Stewart Dalzell had come from Philadelphia's
Main Line. He'd practiced for 22 years at the prominent law firm of
Drinker, Biddle & Reath, where he specialized in real estate law and became
known as a rainmaker. His appointment to the federal bench in 1991 by
President Bush came six months after the death of his close friend, the
late U.S. Sen. John Heinz, for whom he served as campaign treasurer. He was
active in the Episcopal Church; he was married with two children. He was
known as a "middleoftheroad Republican" and a "neoconservative on
economic issues."

He was also known as a "lawandorder guy." An appeals court once told
Dalzell he should be more "generous" to criminals who testified against
codefendants. Of the hundreds of habeas petitions that crossed his desk
each year, Dalzell almost never ruled in favor of the convicts. Most often,
he found their original trials were fair, their complaints without merit.

Dalzell had proved himself equally restrained in civil cases. He was known
as a judge likely to toss out cases against corporations if he thought the
plaintiff didn't have enough evidence to go before a jury. Ted Byrne, a
conservative radio talk show host in Lancaster County who recently studied
Dalzell's written opinions, found that the judge favored landlord rights
over tenants, employer rights over employee protections, and businesses
over customers. "From what I saw in his decisions," Byrne said, "I'd vote
for him for the Supreme Court."

On the other hand, Stewart Dalzell, after six years on the bench, also had
a reputation for being hard to predict. With a mane of white hair curled
over his ears, he didn't even look much like a blueblooded federal judge.
Certain lawyers thought him smart enough to "sniff out a rat if there's one
there" and "courageous enough to fight." It was said he didn't suffer fools
gladly. When you're in front of him, one lawyer observed, "you know you're
in front of a real judge."

Until the Lambert case, the matter that had most put Dalzell in the
spotlight was his 1996 opinion for a special threejudge panel that struck
down the Communications Decency Act, the federal government's effort to
regulate the Internet. "Just as the strength of the Internet is chaos," he
wrote, "so the strength of our liberty depends upon the chaos and cacophony
of the unfettered speech the 1st Amendment protects. For these reasons, I
without hesitation hold that the CDA is unconstitutional on its face."

Perhaps most telling about Dalzell was the lawyers' evaluation of him
printed in the muchreliedupon Almanac of the Federal Judiciary: "Bright
and scholarly . . . a quick mind . . . . He's neutral in everything . . . .
He doesn't have an agenda that guides him . . . . He cares about doing the
right thing."

What, though, was the "right thing" in a habeas petition such as Lisa
Lambert's?

A writ of habeas corpus, part of U.S. law since 1789, is a final legal
opportunity available to convicts seeking freedom. Under federal law, such
prisoners can claim their criminal convictions in state courts violated
their civil rights because of prosecutorial misconduct or procedural error.
Their claim for freedom rests not on innocence, but on being unjustly
imprisoned.

It's no small irony that the habeas action derives from William Penn's
imprisonment in London, where he was charged with illegally holding
religious meetings. He successfully argued that a person shouldn't be held
in prison without a fair trial, then left Britain, founded Pennsylvania,
and included the habeas protection in the laws of that state.

Perceptions of frivolous overuse, frustration about years of judicial
delay, anger at federal intrusion into state affairs, mounting concern over
crimeall have inspired efforts to constrain use of habeas petitions. The
Pennsylvania General Assembly in November 1995 barred certain appeals even
if the petitioner was claiming "actual innocence." Last year, Congress also
tightened habeas rules, making it harder for a state prisoner to win a
federal hearing.

So has the U.S. Supreme Court. McClesky vs. Zant; Coleman vs. Thompson;
Barefoot vs. Estellethese decisions in recent years sharply limited
efforts to get state murder cases reviewed by federal judges. The first
effectively eliminated the filing of successive habeas corpus claims. The
second closed the federal courthouse door to some firsttime petitioners.
The third, invoking "a presumption of finality," declared that "the role of
federal habeas proceedings is secondary and limited. . . . Federal courts
are not forums in which to relitigate trials."

Yet that last, in effect, was precisely what Lisa Lambert was asking in the
petition that sat before Judge Dalzell in early January.

Her claim of "actual innocence" raised issues reaching well beyond matters
of procedural violations. Without saying so directly, she was asking a
federal judge to retry her case; she was asking a federal judge to usurp a
state judge's role. Underlying that request was the notion that the
Commonwealth of Pennsylvania could not be trusted to try her fairly, or
guarantee her the basic protections afforded by the U.S. Constitution.

Few prisoners succeed with any habeas plea, let alone one such as
Lambert's. Federal judges deny most habeas petitions. Of about 10,000
petitions filed each year, only 1%, or 100 total, are even granted an
evidentiary hearing. Of those, only a fraction are granted relief. Such
relief generally means not freedom but a new criminal trial in state court.
Only if a local prosecutor then drops the case, deeming it unwinnable,
might a prisoner gain freedom. Convicted murderers just don't walk out the
door at a federal habeas hearing.

There's no question that Judge Dalzell understood this as he sat in his
chambers, studying Lisa Lambert's petition. Whether it was the very
controversy surrounding the habeas issue that fueled his interest cannot be
said. Nor can conclusions be reached about the speculationhe's ambitious,
he's powerhungry, he's looking to make history, he wants his name on the
lips of law students for 100 yearspresently circulating in Lancaster
County. All that's known is that on Jan. 15, 12 days after receiving
Lambert's plea, Dalzell summoned the lawyers for both sides to his chambers.

There, over Lancaster County's fierce objections, he tentatively scheduled
an evidentiary hearing to begin March 31. What's more, he ruled, because of
"unusual circumstances," Lisa's counsel could depose state witnesses and
conduct expedited, wideranging discovery.

Outrage Over Habeas Hearing

The reaction in Lancaster County to the news that Lisa Lambert had been
granted a federal habeas hearing was as intense as it was predictable.

Haven't four judges already rejected her claims? Hasn't she already
appealed unsuccessfully? Hasn't she already admitted that she lied to the
police?

"I am appalled," one citizen wrote the local paper in a typical letter.
"Michelle Lambert is sitting there conniving with a taxpayerpaid,
courtappointed attorney. . . . A conviction used to be a convictionno
more! Now the criminal has all the rights. . . ."

It was known in Lancaster County that Lisa Lambert came from a twoparent
Christian family, headed by an accountant father. She and her three
brothers lived in a large twostory house in a middleclass neighborhood
set amid Amish farmland. Yet Lisa had left home at 15, in fact had been
evicted, with her parents writing a letter ordering her to stay away from
the family residence. She eventually ended up in Butch Yunkin's trailer.
She'd gotten pregnant by him, given birth out of wedlock and relinquished
the baby to her parents. She'd publicly harassed Laurie Show; she'd been in
Laurie's condo the morning of the murder. She was a bad kid who did bad
things.

The eastern reach of Lancaster County believes wholeheartedly in evil. Some
local boosters like to point to the county's rolling green valley fields
full of corn, tobacco, tomatoes and strawberries. Others prefer to remind
that Lancaster County has become a fastgrowing industrial center, now home
to 10,000 businesses, among them Kellogg Co., Tyson Foods Inc. and R.R.
Donnelly & Sons Co.

Yet this area is best described as an adroitly designed tourist mecca
commingled with a stronghold of Christian fundamentalism.

Most of the county's 36,000 Amish and Mennonites dwell here; more than 5
million visitors a year pass through, taking buggy rides and visiting
clean, undistinctive shops with names such as Amish Country Crafts.

The image all this presents is not so much artificial as incomplete. The
American Music Theater's wellattended Christian shows round out the
picture and finally offer a more telling glimpse of the region than any
horsedrawn buggy rolling down a back road.

Many citizens of eastern Lancaster County would like the county to be dry.
A good number give money to Oral Roberts. Some are not averse to seeking
out "healers" when ill.

Guns are owned not so much for hunting as for selfprotection. Citizens
respect and believe in their government and their public authorities.

Police and prosecutors are seen as preservers of the social order and
protectors of the citizenry. "It's not real easy to get an acquittal here,"
is how Elvin Kraybill, president of the county bar association, puts it.
"Nor is this a community with large plaintiffs' awards."

For Lisa Lambert to cast herself as the innocent victim of authorities'
malevolent misconduct was maddening to almost everyone in Lancaster County.
For a federal judge in Philadelphia to take her seriously was unimaginable.

"If you ever hear someone suggest that the American court system is
weighted against defendants, you might mention this case which proves
otherwise. . . ." the Lancaster New Era suggested in an editorial on the
eve of Lisa's hearing. "U.S. District Judge Stewart Dalzell will hear this
case. He should throw it out, with a reprimand to Lambert's lawyer. . . .
What a waste of time and money!"

Yet even as those words appeared in the local newspaper, county authorities
were shifting uncomfortably in their chairs. They knew something hidden
from most in their community: They knew that a cascade of revelations about
the Lambert case had been pouring into Tina Rainville's office ever since
January.

Despite all the furor over Judge Dalzell scheduling a habeas hearing, his
edict granting the defense unlimited discovery was the more fateful action.
Under Pennsylvania criminal law, what the defense is entitled to see of the
state's case is restricted. But habeas corpus is in fact a federal civil
proceeding, where much broader rules apply. If a habeas petitioner is
fortunate enough to persuade a judge to allow discovery, doors fly open. By
Dalzell's ruling, Lisa's lawyers were able to get their hands on virtually
everything in the state files related to their client's case.

In came a previously undisclosed, unedited videotape of investigators
searching the Susquehanna River and finding a pink bag Lisa said she'd
thrown therea pink bag the police had always claimed they'd never found,
a pink bag Lisa said contained Butch's bloody sneakers.

In came a previously undisclosed audiotape of a police interview with Butch
Yunkin full of gaps, clicks and curious pauses.

In came previously undisclosed testimony from a neighbor who saw Butch at
the crime scene.

In came previously undisclosed testimony from a doghandler whose
bloodhound, searching the river after scenting Tabitha's sweater, had found
a piece of rope from the murder scene.

In came insurance company photos showing undisclosed blood in the Show
condo's hallway just where Lisa said she'd been trying to get Laurie away
from Tabitha.

Perhaps most important, in came depositions from the three emergency
medical technicians who first tended LaurieEMTs whose names hadn't
previously been disclosed by the state. All three swore that as they worked
over the victim, they saw that Laurie Show's left carotid artery had been
cut. It had been cut, they insisted, even though the autopsy report
specifically said it hadn't been.

That, the Philadelphia medical examiner Haresh Mirchandani advised Lisa's
attorneys, meant not just that Laurie couldn't have talked to her mother;
she couldn't have done anything. With a cut carotid artery, she'd be
unconscious within five minutes, dead within 10.

As the habeas hearing drew near, Lancaster County officials' concern over
these revelations grew noticeable. Dist. Atty. Joe Madenspacher, who hadn't
yet taken office when the murder happened, was learning things he hadn't
known.

We can't convince Judge Dalzell to back off, the D.A.'s office told the
victim's mother, Hazel Show. We went down once, then a second time with the
state attorney general. But we can't shake him.

Two days before the hearing, the prosecutors' message sounded even more
troubled. The outcome could be different this time, the D.A.'s office
warned Hazel's exhusband, John Show. We're not sure what will happen.
We're scared.

As it happened, Tina Rainville also felt scared. For months, she'd been
vainly urging Lisa Lambert to give up the garish makeup she still used. No
way are you going to win if you look like that, she urged her client. I
know you didn't kill, but my God, you look like someone who could do it.

Lisa had stubbornly resisted. No, she said simply, I can't.

By then Rainville had on her team an abuse expert, a professor of
psychiatric nursing, who considered Lisawith her terrified refusal to
report a gang rape, abject willingness to do Butch's bidding and insistent
need for the mask of makeupto be a "paradigmatic battered woman." They
had evidence that Butch dateraped Lisa on their fourth night out, evidence
that he beat her sporadically, evidence that he couldn't perform sexually
unless he was hitting or sodomizing her, evidence that he insisted she dye
her hair and "show more skin."

They had poems Lisa wrote"As you hurt me till I weep . . . As you pull my
hair and call me a whore." They had Lisa's jailhouse letters to Butch"I
look horrible without makeup . . . . I gave you my heart, my virginity . .
. . It has never been enough . . . . It's because you know what I look like
without the makeup and my leather clothes. You know I'm really not some hot
babe. . . . The mask hides the real Michelle, the ugly Michelle. I am the
one you can't love."

All quite credible, Rainville believed, but still: A painted and powdered
Lisa just wouldn't play in Dalzell's courtroom.

"Practice," she urged Lisa. "Try less makeup. Go day by day." At least Lisa
looked better on some days than others, Rainville told herself. Some days
her whole face made her look like a psychopath. On other days, she looked
that way only from the nose up.

Next: Judge Dalzell's outrage at Lancaster County's conduct leads to an
unprecedented decision.

Copyright Los Angeles Times