can a lawyer explain this to me

smazza · May 1, 2004

if jayson williams wasn't convicted of preshooting,or shooring crimes,how can he be convicted of covering up what is not a crime?

smazza · May 1, 2004

I once saw Jayson Williams put away 12 tequila shots in less than an hour. One night in Portland while his team was on the road, I watched him challenge an Alaskan to a high-stakes game of pool. If Jayson won, the man would take him bear hunting in the Kodiak hinterlands. If he lost, he would splurge for a New York weekend and an NBA game.

Mr. Alaska ended up in the big city, cheering Williams from the stands.

You were happy to know one of the NBA's most lovable louts back then. Because he had no airs about him, because he let you peek into the millionaire-athlete world when so many others hid behind tinted windows, no one ever thought to tell him, "You've had enough to drink?" or "Be careful with that gun. It's not loaded, right?"

Instead, we hyped the plotline: Poor, biracial kid from the Lower East Side overcomes the loss of two sisters from AIDS. Leaves behind his young-knucklehead NBA image and eventually becomes an all-star. Signs $100 million deal. Buys a sprawling, wrought-iron gate estate in the New Jersey countryside, with two stenciled words on the front: Who Knew?

Who knew, indeed.

Williams was acquitted of aggravated manslaughter yesterday, appearing somber in his charcoal suit, the one with the little white cross on the right lapel. He emerged from a New Jersey courtroom, where a jury convicted the former Net only of a cover-up in the 2002 shooting death of Gus Cristofi and was deadlocked on a charge of reckless assault, leaving the possibility of another trial.

Williams did not resemble the large-living character I covered 10 years ago -- the man who cut up a room with laughter and became a model for every NBA player who paid his dues.

"What a sad, tragic scene," Don Casey said yesterday. Casey coached Williams in New Jersey. He lost his son, Sean, to alcohol and guns, on Dec. 22, 2000. He started a foundation a year later, Coaches Against Gun Violence, a national public education campaign that works through schools and coaches. "Call up Willie Stewart at Anacostia," he said. "He'll tell you about what's wrong with guns and athletes."

You call up Stewart, the school's longtime football coach. He tells you that 12 of his players have died by gunshot in the last 20-odd years, including a bright, young man named Delvin Foulkes. Foulkes was his starting tailback until he was killed at a homecoming dance last fall by a 15-year-old aiming for someone else.

"It's just sort of depressing," Stewart says. "I mean, kids fooling around with guns is awful in its own way. It's inexcusable for an adult. What did he have, a loaded shotgun? In his home?"

The truth was, although no one thought much of the consequences, Williams was also profoundly immature. He would go to great lengths to entertain, once telling the Nets beat writers, many of whom were married, that he would pay for prostitutes for all of them, right then, right there. We dismissed his rant as jock-and-beer blather, and we all wondered if he wasn't stuck in time, at some St. John's dorm party.

No one figured his lifelong role as the class clown, the heavy drinking and his fascination with guns were a recipe for tragedy. In one of the those twists only life could script, his former sad-sack Nets teammates, Chris Morris and Benoit Benjamin, who as Harlem Globetrotters just happened to be at the mansion that night, ended up testifying in the trial.

They were always viewed as this comical trio of underachieving losers, and Williams felt a connection with those people that he never felt with other NBA stars. Sad as it is to think of now, how many NBA millionaires would allow a limo driver to take a tour of their house?

During his playing days, even among some of the most popular NBA stars, Williams presided over every gathering like a maestro -- nothing could stop or start before he gave the signal. While in Philadelphia, he spent many long, adventurous nights carousing with Charles Barkley.

He continued his partying ways in New Jersey for much of the early 1990s, staying out late after games and meeting teammates and friends at Houlihan's, a bar and late-night eatery a few miles from where the Nets played.

Early in his career, his friends and the luxury he heaped upon them were a nice diversion from a career headed nowhere. Languishing on the bench under then-Nets coach Chuck Daly, he grew more and more frustrated, believing his talents would never be tapped.

At 6 feet 10 and more than 250 pounds, Williams was caught in a positional no-man's land: a bit too small to be a dominant center and too unskilled offensively to be considered a power forward who could score. His greatest asset was his tenacity, the ability to treat every loose ball as if it were his.

Finally, Paul Silas, an assistant under then-coach Butch Beard, approached Williams and gave him perhaps the most valuable advice of his career: find something you do better than anyone else.

"I'm a good rebounder," Williams replied.

"Then be a great rebounder," said Silas, who had made a living pulling down rebounds for the Boston Celtics and Seattle SuperSonics in the 1970s.

Williams soon curbed his drinking, his late-night escapades and began charting a course to become an NBA starter. From 1996 to 1998, he became more than a sideshow; he was the best rebounder on an emerging team in the Eastern Conference.

The penultimate moment in his career came in February 1998 at the league's annual all-star game at Madison Square Garden. Williams was chosen for the East roster, the onetime malcontent making good in front of the home crowd. He was profiled extensively in newspapers and on television, the running theme being, "This is what happens when you pay your dues and finally realize how much the game means to you."

Williams buttressed that image with charity. After the NBA lockout in 1999, he quietly donated $20,000 to Nets concessionaires at Continental Airlines Arena who were hurt financially when the league lost 32 games to labor strife. And there were other big-ticket gifts to other charities.

But away from all that seeming professional and personal growth, that other side remained, that flippant character stuck in Neverland, who never quite grew up. Will Williams go back to being the fellow playing pool on a tequila bender, that crowd-pleasing, dangerous soul who pushed the limits of absurdity and humor too far?

Or will he take a path that leads somewhere better?

Yesterday, he gained the opportunity to make that decision again

smazza · May 1, 2004

Legal experts are hailing the lawyers of Jayson Williams for their brilliant defense of the retired NBA star, acquitted of killing a limousine driver at his mansion.

Williams was exonerated on the most serious count, aggravated manslaughter, but was convicted on four of six lesser charges related to the death of Costas "Gus" Christofi, 55. He could be retried on a charge of reckless manslaughter, which the jury was divided on.

Williams' attorneys were able to win the acquittal by bogging down prosecutors with testimony from weapons experts that diverted the jury's attention from the shooting, the observers said after the verdicts were announced Friday.

Defense attorney David M. Schwartz said prosecutors did a "thorough job" but were forced into playing the defense's game - allowing weapons experts and the allegations of a misfiring shotgun to blur what should have been the main thrust of the state's case: the killing itself.

"I think sometimes prosecutors, especially in these cases, have a tendency to overcomplicate the case and I think that's where the gun expert testimony came in," Schwartz said. "Just the fact that he pointed a loaded gun while being drunk at another human being, that alone was recklessness."

John J. Fahy, a former prosecutor who now does defense work, said prosecutors made a big mistake by withholding notes and photographs of a weapons expert from the defense. The disclosure of the evidence late in the trial allowed the defense to reopen its case after a three-week delay.

Fahy said it did not matter whether the jury understood the legal issue but said the delay made the difference.

"All they've been hearing about is gun stuff, gun stuff, gun stuff, so when they got into the jury room all they were thinking is gun stuff, gun stuff, gun stuff," Fahy said.

"For five weeks all they've been focusing on is the gun," he said. "They kept their focus on that and that's why there was no conviction as to the shooting."

Williams' lawyers have preserved several issues they could raise on appeal.

One of the most relevant points deals with a charge of fabricating physical evidence. The jury found Williams guilty of providing clothes not worn during the shooting. That may be grounds for appeal because the defense has argued that Williams turned over the clothes after the police requested them.

A detective testified he asked Williams for his clothes so Williams turned them over. The clothes, however, were ones Williams had changed into after the shooting.

The defense said it was not up to Williams to read the mind of the officer. He had given the bloody clothes to a friend.

Other appeal possibilities deal with charges of improper conduct by the prosecutor before two grand juries that returned indictments against Williams, allegations that were rejected by the trial judge.

The defense also accused the prosecution of improperly excluding black men from the 16 jurors who were empaneled, but the judge found no wrongdoing.

The defense also sought a dismissal of all charges in April, accusing the prosecutor of misconduct in connection with the withheld notes and photographs. The prosecutor admitted that he failed to give some material to the defense before the trial started. He turned it over after the defense rested, but said the error was inadvertent.

The defense maintained it was part of a pattern of egregious behavior that deprived Williams of a fair trial, but the judge said it was unintentional and could be corrected by allowing the defense to reopen its case.

smazza · May 1, 2004

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Although acquitted of the most serious charge, retired NBA star Jayson Williams faces the possibility of a retrial, as well as prison time for convictions on attempting to conceal the shooting of a hired driver.

Williams, 36, was convicted Friday on four of six lesser charges, related to tampering with evidence and trying to cover up the death of Costas "Gus" Christofi, 55. He was killed by a shotgun blast as Williams handled the weapon while showing friends his mansion.

After four days of deliberations, the jury cleared Williams of aggravated manslaughter but could not reach an unanimous verdict on the second major charge, reckless manslaughter, which carries up to 10 years in prison.

Several jurors said they were split 8-4 on that count, with the majority voting not guilty. Prosecutors have not yet decided whether to retry Williams.

The jurors said they accepted the defense argument that the shooting was an accident and the weapon misfired.

"Jayson Williams is not a criminal," said juror Ann Stengel. "Was he negligent? Yes. Should he have known better? Yes."

"I never looked over there and saw a cold-blooded killer," juror Angela Pravata said.

However, they did convict Williams of four charges, include witness and evidence tampering.

Together, the four charges carry up to 13 years in prison. But Williams would probably receive a sentence of less than five years, the maximum for the most serious count. No date was set for sentencing. Williams could have faced up to 55 years in prison if convicted on all eight counts.

Williams displayed no emotion as he stood with his lawyers as the verdicts were read. After he sat down, he leaned back and kissed his wife, Tanya, who was seated behind him. He remains free on bail.

He did not speak to reporters as he left the courtroom, holding hands with his wife.

Defense lawyer Billy Martin said the verdict showed the jury understood the investigation was flawed.

"We told the jury there had never been an objective investigation. We told the jury this was an accident," Martin said.

The victim's nephew, Anthony Christofi, told Court TV he was disappointed by the split verdict, "but we have to respect the decision the jury made."

smazza · May 1, 2004