News & Appeals

Why we're put in this mess
Is anybody’s guess
It might be a test
Or it might not be anything you need to worry about
But if you’re still in doubt
Go and knock yourself out

Erin sent me this article from the Canton Repository (today's front page apparently). I'm told that, last night, the story was all over the local television news as well.

And, in a very strange way, I'm not sure I've ever been prouder of my broken little family.

I was as surprised as anyone to read that Bill has an appeal option open... I thought there wasn't any room for that in the case of a guilty plea, but it looks like he can try to get his sentences to run concurrently instead of consecutively. Felonious assault alone netted him 10 of the 12 years, though, so my guess is he won't be able to get more than a two year reduction, even if his lawyers pull off a miracle.

Um, haven't posted any BeckySpellman.com media stories on the sentence yet, but they're coming.

And since December 8th will always be known as the Day that will Live in Infamy, Mom also closed on her new condo. She'll move in fairly soon. Needless to say, it was a very very big day.

posted by Jeremy Bear 8:25 AM

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Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Verdict

About twenty minutes ago, Mom gave me a call on the way out of the courthouse. The judge had come to a decision on Bill's sentence:

12 years.

It's hard to describe how enormously relieved we are. The prosecutor had given us the impression that the maximum sentence was 10 and it was highly unlikely that he would get even that. We'd heard opinions all across the board from the legal community, some telling us we should prepare ourselves for the reality of Bill being free in 2-1/2 years. Horrifying, but we tried our best to steel ourselves for the worst.

I asked Mom how much of those 12 years he'd have to physically serve and she assured me that the only thing that could reduce his sentence is good behavior... one month earns him one day. So, with absolutely spotless behavior, the very least he can hope to serve is a shade over 11-1/2 years.

And Bill's no spring chicken. He's 68 now, which puts him at a very ripe 80, come 2016.

I'm really regretting not being there for it. I wish I would have just made it work somehow. Mom said she'd make sure we obtained a copy of the court transcripts.

Everyone made statements: Mom, obviously, and Bill. I contributed a few words to a statement Erin and Lauren had put together and read also. Apparently, there were even a couple of folks that stood up in Bill's defense and felt it important to point out that he'd taught Sunday School and, I don't know, had a really smokin' golf game or something. To no effect, though, as the judge had prepared a lengthy statement of his own.

Mom tells me that the judge was fair and focused and gave terrific attention to the support system around Mom in the form of friends and family. He told Bill that he should have known, being a lawyer, that the consequences of planning, researching, premeditating and orchestrating an act so savage would be substantially harsher than a spur-of-the-moment crime of passion sentencing.

A lot left to say and it'll surely be all over the news, so be on the lookout (I'll continue to update BeckySpellman.com with media links as I get them).

Mostly, thanks again for the overwhelming amount of prayers and support. This sentence is more than we'd hoped for and, most importantly, it's meant the world to my dear mom's peace of mind.

posted by Jeremy Bear 9:36 AM

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Tuesday, December 07, 2004

O Cashmas Tree

This week's Who-Gives-A-Crap-Other-Than-Me Landmark Moment: for the first time in about three years, I was forced to put on a coat.

For some reason, southern California is beginning the coldest winter in recent history and, boy, are Carey and I ever feelin' it. Granted, not snow-level temperatures, but we were told that it dropped to the high 30s over the weekend.

Ripoff! Why'd we move here anyway?!

To make matters worse, our heater is broken, which hasn't ever been much of a problem before. But, now, we rely on our gas fireplace to warm the place up. While romantic and rustic, it doesn't do such a great job of keeping everyone toasty. What's worse, it's not safe to keep it burning while we're away, so we often come home to living room-style flurries and icicles hanging from our cats' angry little noses.

Anyhow, coats on and hoods up, we trudged over to the Christmas tree lot Sunday night and picked out a tree. It had been raining for the past couple of days, so the lot attendants looked miserable. Hey, I don't blame 'em.

Carey and I have been using the same Christmas tree supplier since we moved here. Granted, they're slightly pricey, but the trees are straight and beautiful and (our favorite perk) for an extra five bucks, they fix a disposable base and sealed watering reservoir to each tree, no fuss. We can literally take the tree home, set it down and... done.

Hoofah, though, man, HOOFAH! those prices. For some reason I had it in my head that the whole operation cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $50-60, but no way. Including the tip for the attendant, that thing set us back nearly $90!

Happy Birthday, Jesus.

Hrmph.

posted by Jeremy Bear 3:16 PM

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