After three 'shootout' trials, one big question lingers

When I talk to people about the murder trials (three so far) of the people who were involved in a drug-related shootout in New Marshfield Feb. 15, I get the distinct impression that a lot of folks around these parts are a little uneasy with the way the law seems to be working in this case.

For background on the trials, you can check out any number of stories I've written for The Athens NEWS (enter the keyword "œMarshfield" in the search field on the upper right-hand corner of www.athensnews.com).

What people seem to have a problem with is, first, the concept in Ohio law of "felony murder," and second, what they perceive as possibly selective prosecution. (All the defendants are black; three are Somali immigrants - though to be fair, I have no direct evidence that their race or nationality played any role in how the case came out.)

The concept of felony murder says you can be charged with a murder even if you didn't personally kill anyone, as long as you were involved in trying to commit a felony, in the course of which someone got killed. This can lead to some legal outcomes that rub common sense the wrong way.

Let's say an accomplice and I try to rob a bank. The bank guard starts shooting, killing my accomplice. Under Ohio law, I can be charged with murder for that death.

As far as I can tell, this would be the case even if I had tried to rob the bank by waving an authentic-looking water pistol, or by passing the teller a note that falsely claimed I had a bomb in my backpack.

The basic rationale for the law is clear, however, and does make a rough kind of sense "“ we should be held responsible for the predictable consequences of what we do, not just for the immediate actions themselves.

To use a possibly shopworn example, when President Bill Clinton approved the launching in 1998 of a cruise missile that destroyed the Al-Shifa pharmaceutical factory in Sudan (which is in the same region as Somalia, as it happens), he became responsible not just for the deaths of any people killed by the bomb, but also for the tens of thousands of African men, women and children who, as an utterly predictable result, have died from not being able to get antibiotics and other needed drugs.

What seems worrisome in connection with the New Marshfield case is that this principle "“ you do something stupid, dangerous, and criminal; somebody gets killed; you take the blame "“ is being applied to only one side in what appears to be a drug-inspired, and partly drug-addled, gunfight.

Based on testimony in the trials so far, the local (white) crack dealer whose trailer was the site of the shootout knew perfectly well the assailants were likely to be coming, to try to collect on a debt he owed one of them for illegal drugs.

After he got a phone call warning him of this, in fact, he promptly ran out, obtained some guns, loaded them, and set them out in his residence, near to hand "“ after doing some target practice, that is. Then he, his son, and another man apparently waited inside for the defendants to arrive. The resulting gunfight killed an innocent bystander, 39-year-old Donnie Putnam, who may have just picked the wrong time to try to buy some dope.

Based on physical evidence, investigators know that bullets of the kind that killed Putnam were fired from inside the trailer, through the wall "“ blindly, in other words. The man whom defense attorneys suspect as being the shooter was probably high on crack during the incident.

No shell casings from 9mm bullets of the type that killed Putnam were found outside. The only casings found from guns fired outside during the shootout were from a .22-caliber rifle, and these were found in the road out in front of the residence.

These casings very likely came from bullets fired by one of the defendants, Phillip Dionte Boler "“ but none is from the shell that killed Putnam, and there's no evidence that any .22-caliber bullets ever hit the trailer or anything else.

Ultimately, the state's strongest point in the cases so far has been the felony murder law. Prosecutors have hammered on this argument over and over: Who pulled the trigger is irrelevant. The defendants set a felony in motion. Somebody died. That's murder. Case closed.

But what people keep asking me is something like this. Imagine you learn that an armed gang is coming to your house to take your money by violence. You don't call the cops; instead you load up some guns, and lie in wait for the gang to arrive. Meanwhile, you smoke a few bowls of crack cocaine to pass the time. Oddly enough, when the war party shows up, as you knew it would, a gunfight breaks out, and somebody ends up dead. So tell me again why there are only four defendants in this case?

The state keeps saying, well, the crack dealer and his cohorts in the trailer aren't the ones on trial. They might be bad people, but "“ wait for it "“ they had a sacred right to defend their home. And if they wanted to mount that defense by compiling a small arsenal of weapons loaded for bear, while making not the slightest effort to get law enforcement involved in heading off a pending felony crime "“ well, that's why we have the Second Amendment. All rise and uncover.

Prosecutors also like to point out that the locals who were shooting from inside the trailer haven't gotten off scot-free.

One is doing a great big five years in prison for drug possession "“ on a totally unrelated case.

A second guy - who, for some reason or another, fled the scene before cops arrived, taking with him a handgun of exactly the type that killed Putnam, and later allegedly lied about it to police, trying to pass off a similar gun as the one he'd absconded with "“ is now facing the terrifying charges of perjury and tampering with evidence.

Right off the top of my head, I don't know what the maximum sentence is for perjury and evidence tampering. But I'm pretty sure it's not 28 years to life, which is what the three defendants already convicted of murder are now serving.