3/18: Pinning Back Anger At ESPN, Lawyers, Parents
8 p.m.
• Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here.
A man who spent 18 years in prison for a rape he didn't commit was convicted Sunday of murdering a photographer, whose charred bones were found in a burn pit outside his home.
And defense lawyers wonder why they're so hated.
Steven Avery, 44, shook his head when the verdict was read. He faces a mandatory life prison term for killing Teresa Halbach, 25, on Halloween 2005 near his family's salvage yard.
Halbach disappeared Oct. 31, 2005, after going to the yard in rural Manitowoc County to photograph a minivan that Avery's sister had for sale through Auto Trader Magazine. Avery had called that morning to request the photo, testimony showed.
A few days later, Halbach's vehicle was found in the Avery salvage lot under branches, pieces of wood and car parts. Investigators then spent a week on the 40-acre property and found charred fragments of her bones in a pit behind Avery's garage and in a barrel, along with her camera and cell phone.
Two years before Halbach died, Avery was released from prison after serving 18 years for a Manitowoc County rape that DNA analysis showed he did not commit. He later settled a wrongful-conviction lawsuit against the county for $400,000 and used it for his defense.
After the verdict was read, Halbach's brother, Mike Halbach, told reporters that he was pleased and that he believed his sister's spirit guided the jury.
"What matters is that Steven Avery is going to be in prison for rest of his life, which from the start is what we wanted," he said.
The jury convicted Avery of first-degree intentional homicide and being a felon in possession of a firearm. He was acquitted of mutilating a corpse. The panel deliberated over three days and heard a month of testimony.
Avery's nephew Brendan Dassey is due for trial next month. In March he confessed to helping kill and rape Halbach.
Prosecutors then added charges of sexual assault, kidnapping and false imprisonment to Avery's case. But Dassey recanted his confession and rejected a plea deal that would have required him to testify against his uncle.
The judge dismissed the sexual assault and kidnapping charges against Avery in January because prosecutors could not guarantee the nephew would testify. The judge dismissed the false imprisonment charge Monday, saying the jurors didn't have enough evidence to convict Avery of the charge.
Mike Halbach said his family expects Dassey's trial to have a similar outcome after it begins April 16.
Now why did I post all of that? To get to this.
In closing arguments, defense lawyer Dean Strang had told jurors their verdict could "set a lot of things right" for Avery because of his previous wrongful conviction.
"The 1985 case won't matter so much anymore if justice is done this time," he said.
But special prosecutor Ken Kratz said it was "absolutely improper" for the defense to ask jurors to take the old case into account.
4:15 p.m.
• You know, I don’t play golf, but there have been a few times in the past where I did my thing on a Par 3 course. And by “did my thing” I mean taking a dozen or so shots to get a ball in a hole in the ground. However, this golfing story brought back a childhood memory.
Boo Weekley tried to spare his partner a penalty. He wound up incurring one himself Saturday in a bizarre act of sportsmanship-gone- bad at the Arnold Palmer Invitational. "I learned another rule in the game of golf," Weekley said after his 67 turned into a 69.
Tom Johnson hit to the right side of the green on the par-3 second hole, some 85 feet away from the flag. Because of the steep slope on the green and the back-left hole location, his best chance was to chip off the putting surface onto the fringe and have the ball trickle down toward the cup.
"I spaced out and forgot to tell my caddie to tend the pin," Johnson said. "I thought it was a great act of sportsmanship."
Johnson's chip came off perfectly, landing on the fringe and rolling toward the flag. Weekley knew that if the ball struck the pin while it was still in the hole, it would be a two-shot penalty against him.
"I ran over and pulled the pin out," he said.
Someone in the gallery mentioned something to the rules officials, who talked to Weekley and Johnson when they went into the scoring trailer after the round to sign their cards. Weekley played in the worst conditions Saturday, with strong wind and temperatures in the 50s, yet played what Johnson called "flawless" golf and took 67 shots, at the time the best score of the third round.
"They asked me if I authorized Boo to pull the pin," Johnson said quietly. "And I didn't."
It was the second time this month that Weekley has made news for the wrong reason. He missed a 3-foot par putt at the Honda Classic that would have given him his first PGA Tour victory, then lost the next day in a four-man playoff.
I was at a local Par 3 when I was about 12 or so years old with my old man and his live-in girlfriend at the time, along with some other people, I think. Now anytime I do anything with the old man, it almost always results in some stupid fight. Instead of just going out and having a good time, he always “coaches” me on how a professional would go about hitting a shot (or whatever it was we would be doing at the time). This time was no exception. Instead of just enjoying this time, every shot (or whiff) I made was awful/dreadful/a disgrace. Did I mention before that I have probably golfed a Par 3 a dozen times (20 max) in my life? Anyway, I was on this one hole and was on this slop just off the green. I hit the ball and instead of this being the shot of my life, the goddamn ball hit the pin and went in and out of the hole. Sonofabitch. Years later when I was living in Ohio, the old man took me to a driving range where I was being primed to be the next Tiger Woods. Of course I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but that didn’t matter. What I found funny was that the old man was bitching because I was taking too long setting up the balls on the tee and hitting them (or at least attempting to make contact). When I attempted to explain to him that I was making sure my “form” wouldn’t make even a novice golfer cringe, he said, “when you’re out on the course you don’t have time to check your form.” Uh, OK. Hey, I’m not the one who purchased this bucket of golf balls, so I don’t care if I only hit them 10 feet. Memories.
• Why do I even watch ESPN? This morning when “Outside the Lines” was on, Bob Ley informed me that John Amaechi, that homo who came out of the closet just long enough to whore his book, has some endorsement deal (with a razor company I think), making him THE FIRST GAY ATHLETE WITH A MAJOR ENDORSEMENT DEAL, or something like that. It was such a retarded statement that even the better half looked up from her medicated semi-coma bout with the flu and commented, “oh who fucking cares already?”
Right after “Outside the Lines,” I had the Sports Reporters on, and I must say that as a kid I used to love this show. As I’ve gotten older, the hippie PC garbage I hear out of many of these so-called “experts” makes me roll my eyes. I’m not going to say it wasn’t like this during my youth because I may have just ignored it or something. Anyway, when Jeremy Schaap gave his “parting words” this week, he talked about how great the NCAA Tournament would be if all the players who could be playing college ball right now (Lebron James, some “Gay” guy from Uconn, etc.). Oh fuck you Jeremy. And what would happen if one of these pro-bound players would blow out a knee or rupture an ACL playing an amateur sport that could be fetching them millions of dollars on the open market? Would you write them a check to pay their mortgage? Oh boo-hoo, the March Madness Tournament isn’t as good as it could be. Get over it, douchebag. The games are exciting enough, and those with the ability to provide for their families are already out earning a living in the real world, something many commie college professors are unable to do and have to suck off the taxpayer’s teet. If a Lebron James really wants to get a college degree, he’s more than able to on his own time and on his own dime. So grin and bear it, Jeremy, and deal with the fact you won’t see James and Greg Oden on the same court sporting Ohio State University jerseys. Asshole.
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