What is “beyond a reasonable doubt,” and did defense attorney Michael Natola (in the recent Kathleen Hilton trial) convince the jury there was something doubtful about the evidence that was “out there,” where ever “beyond a reasonable doubt” is?

• Disclaimer: I’m not an attorney, and I’m sure that any lawyer who reads what I have to say about the definition of this concept groans and perhaps even writhes on the floor. I’m a writer and a scholar of the English language and literature. I’m also a juror who had to decide whether the state proved a defendant’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

It’s my belief that Mr. Natola convinced the jury not only that there was reasonable doubt about Ms. Hilton’s confession but also that there was a reasonable alternative culprit. (Elsewhere in this blog I’ve advocated that defense closing arguments should always do that. I don’t believe a case based only on reasonable doubt is anything but DOA.) In the first Phil Spector trial his attorneys argued that the alternative was suicide—producing a hung jury. In the Michael Jackson trial his attorney argued that the alternative was a money-grubbing mother—resulting in an acquittal.

Frankly, I think Mr. Natola’s closing argument was rhetorically brilliant! I wish he would post it on the web.

The Definition of Reasonable Doubt

One reason the Natola argument succeeded was that Judge Whitehead read a fairly well-conceived definition of reasonable doubt to the jury when they requested a clarification. It’s my understanding that a Supreme Court decision in 1970 determined that the standard of proof in a criminal trial is “proof beyond a reasonable doubt.” State courts are free to define this phrase in their pattern jury instructions. It appears that MA pattern jury instructions permit judges to define “reasonable doubt” in a clear, reasonable way. Judge Whitehead used an 1850 case called “The Commonwealth v. Webster.”

Many states have definitions that involve language such as that used in the recent trial of “Scooter Libby”: “Reasonable doubt is the kind of doubt that would cause a reasonable person after careful and thoughtful reflection to hesitate to act in the graver or more important matters of life.” I have heard judges state that such important matters include marriage and taking out a mortgage. Personally, I find this definition baffling. Does it mean that deciding which house to buy is similar to choosing a spouse? Or that you should weigh the pros and cons of guilt and decide which is sexier or cuter to you?

In California the “plain language” pattern jury pattern instructions are:

• Proof beyond a reasonable doubt is proof that leaves you with an
  abiding conviction that the charge is true. The evidence need not
  eliminate all possible doubt because everything in life is open to
  some possible or imaginary doubt.

This isn’t baffling so much as it is obscure and possibly inaccurate. In my opinion some things in life are not open to some possible or imaginary doubt: that night shall follow day is not open to doubt; that a person is dead is not subject to doubt. That a person is dead because he or she was murdered is subject to some doubt, but it isn’t some possible or imaginary doubt—it is a question subject to analysis of the evidence. The coroner has to find the cause and manner of death; the jury has to agree with the coroner’s opinion before finding a defendant guilty of murder.

Natola’s Stroke of Genius

Was attorney Natola’s successful argument in the Kathleen Hilton arson/murder trial the usual “reasonable doubt” case? Or did he also argue—as I believe defense attorneys always should—that there was a more reasonable theory of the crime than the prosecution’s?

Several times recently I have suggested that defense closing arguments should do more than simply poke holes in the prosecution. A good closing argument must do more than plead reasonable doubt.

Jurors want to know who really did it—just as we all do. And jurors need to know—at the very least—that someone else could have done it. And this is exactly what attorney Natola gave them, a reasonable alternative to his client’s guilt. A very reasonable alternative.

In his closing argument attorney Natola reminded the jury that Kathleen Hilton’s son, Charles Loayza actually threatened the victims with arson and actually said that he could burn the house “without getting his hands dirty.” Natola pointed out that this could reasonably be interpreted to mean that he was going to have someone else commit the crime for him while he set up an air-tight alibi.

Then, Natola went a step further (a step almost too far in my opinion, except that he won an acquittal), he pointed to two unidentified men with cell phones and a running car parked outside the burning house before 911 was called. He said they could have set the fire on Loayza’s behalf.

This was a masterful bit of rhetoric. Not only had Natola shredded the prosecution’s case (based on a very questionable confession and minimal evidence of arson), but he also gave the jury “a way out.” He gave them an alternative theory that was at least as reasonable as the prosecution’s.

The Boston Globe said:

• Natola attributed her [Hilton’s] alleged statements to an effort to protect her son, Charles Loayza, who was in the middle of a custody fight with his girlfriend, Krystina Sutherland, and had threatened to burn down her house. He said Hilton fabricated her story because she believed her son, then 22 years old and a prime suspect, would go to prison. Police eliminated her son as a suspect after confirming his alibi.

I wonder if Natola’s approach would have worked in a state with a different definition of “reasonable doubt.” The jury was concerned enough about this definition to ask the judge to explain it to them during deliberations. A different definition might have caused them to react negatively to the “2 men in a car” theory, as I did initially. What I mean is, I found it improbable (unreasonable) that two men would commit an arson together and then stand in front of the building they had set on fire until someone saw them. I wondered if Natola might have gone a bit too far. Perhaps, I thought, he ought to have stopped with the accusation of Loayza of causing someone else to start the fire.

Of course, had he done so he would have risked having the jury say, “yes, he probably put his mother up to it.”

It was a clever—a brilliant—closing argument. But could he have made that same argument in California, for example, where the definition of reasonable doubt is different?