Needle Work: Battery Acid, Heroin, and Double Murder(54)

How long can a jury be out considering its verdict? Days, sometimes weeks. But minutes? No one had ever heard of that.

Yet there it was, the bell in the courtroom ringing, signaling the jury had a verdict in Carol Giles’s case, and they had only been out a total of twenty minutes. Court quickly reconvened. Carol Giles took her place at the defense table.

“Has the jury reached its verdict?” Judge Andrews asked.

The foreman answered in the affirmative. He handed the verdict to the court clerk, who read it out loud.

“In the matter of the death of Jessie Giles, we the jury find Carol Giles guilty of first-degree murder.”

At the defense table, Carol slumped forward and fought back tears. Her jury had taken less time to find her guilty of first-degree murder than she had taken to commit the crime. Handcuffed and manacled, Carol Giles was led out through a side entrance of the courtroom.

That left Tim Collier’s jury. Ostensibly, because it was her word against his, it was a more difficult verdict to consider. It was. This time, it only took one hour for the bell to ring in the courtroom.

“Has the jury reached its verdict?” Judge Andrews asked after court was convened and all the principals were in place. Tim stared at the jury.

“We have, Your Honor,” said the jury foreman, who handed the verdict to the clerk, who published it.

“In the matter of the death of Jessie Giles, we the jury find the defendant Timothy Orlando Collier guilty of first-degree murder.”

Tim looked like he’d swallowed a snake. He must have been wondering, what the heck was the jury thinking? As far as he was concerned, he had done nothing wrong. With a backward glance at the jury, he, too, was led off in chains.

Outside the courtroom, Phyllis Burke and her daughters cried. The three cops shook hands and John Skrzynski allowed himself a brief smile. One down and one more to go.

July 22, 1998

For Nancy Billiter, Judgment Day had come in the basement of the Giles home in West Bloomfield. It had been a bloody, painful end. Carol Giles and Tim Collier had it easier.

First, Carol was led into court for sentencing, wearing manacles and de rigueur orange prison jumpsuit. She took her seat at the defense table by her lawyer. Court was convened when Judge Andrews ascended the bench.

“Does the defendant have anything to say before I hand down sentence?”

Carol rose. She looked pale and bit her lip.

“I just want to apologize for all the trouble I have caused. I never meant for this to happen.”

Judge Andrews looked down at Carol Giles with eyes that showed no pity.

“I’ve heard from people who claim they are victims, but I haven’t heard from the victims in this case—your children. How sad a day when a child has to say, ‘My mother murdered my father.’ May God have mercy upon your soul.”

With that biblical pronouncement, Andrews gave Carol the decidedly unbiblical sentence of life in prison without parole. She was led out. Soon, Tim Collier shuffled in. Nonplussed, Tim took his place at the defense table by his lawyer and looked up at the bench. At that moment, the judge looked huge, like God pronouncing judgment.

“Does the defendant have anything to say before sentence is pronounced?”

Tim Collier rose.

“Yes, Your Honor,” he said. “I don’t feel justice has been served. I am innocent and wrongly convicted. That’s basically it.”

He sat down. Judge Andrews paused for a moment, looking at his notes, and then he looked down at Tim Collier.

“The truth is you are a cold-blooded killer; you have no remorse in your body,” snapped Judge Andrews, his voice seething with anger. “You planned and helped execute another human being.”

Most importantly, he had shown no remorse, maintaining his innocence. But the judge wouldn’t buy it. He gave Tim Collier the mandatory sentence of life in prison without parole.





Sixteen

Tim Collier was royally pissed off. How dare that judge convict him of murder when he didn’t do anything! And that stupid attorney of his, what kind of defense did he put up?

He had another trial approaching. The last thing he needed was to be convicted of two murder-one charges. Dissatisfied with his representation, he asked the court for a new attorney and the court agreed, appointing J. Herbert Larson as his new counsel. Quickly, though, they had a “personality disagreement.”

September 1, 1998

Herbert Larson told Oakland Circuit judge Rudy J. Nichols during a special hearing that he could not represent Tim Collier. He claimed that Collier had threatened him.

Larson said that the threat came during a jail-house visit when the two differed over “trial philosophy,” and Collier told him “there’s a bullet on your head, Larson.” Collier was apparently making it clear that if Larson didn’t get him off at the next trial, there would be hell to pay.

Collier denied ever making such a threat. But the judge decided to err on the side of caution; he agreed to Larson’s request and appointed a new lawyer, Mitchell Ribitwer, to take over Collier’s defense.

Afterward, Larson wouldn’t discuss the threat with reporters except to say, “I think you can say there was a complete and total breakdown in the attorney-client relationship.”

Larson said that Collier had wanted him to file motions that would not have been appropriate or in keeping with the law. The threat itself left Larson perplexed, but he wasn’t worried.