In Freddie Gray trial, 2 skilled defense lawyers try to put jurors in officer’s shoes
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Version 0 of 1. One grew up just outside Belfast, speaks with a faded Irish brogue and is apt to uncork the most colorful expressions in court. The other is a former prosecutor, once represented Monica Lewinsky confidante Linda Tripp, and is more straightforward in front of jurors. Together, lawyers Gary Proctor and Joe Murtha are defending William G. Porter, the first Baltimore police officer to go on trial in the arrest and death of Freddie Gray. The proceedings have cast national spotlights on key players: Porter, Gray, the judge, the prosecutors — and the two lawyers. “Porter is in fantastic hands,” said David B. Irwin, a longtime Maryland defense attorney and former prosecutor. “He’s very lucky to have them.” The challenge for Porter’s attorneys, Irwin stressed, is to winnow the number of questions and issues jurors will tackle. “This isn’t about social justice,” Irwin said. “This isn’t about a bigger picture. This is about the defendant getting a fair trial on the facts and the law.” In April, Gray, 25, became a key figure in the national debate over police conduct when he died after suffering aspinal injury while riding in the back of a police van. Porter, 26, is one of six officers charged in the case, and faces counts of involuntary manslaughter, second-degree assault, misconduct in office and reckless endangerment. On Wednesday, Porter took the stand and began his defense of his actions. In trying to focus the jury on Porter’s conduct, his attorneys have tried to place jurors in Porter’s shoes: A good man trying to do his best in a difficult and often chaotic job. Part and parcel of that defense is gaining credibility with jurors and getting them to like the person on trial. And for many defense attorneys in many trials, that means first getting jurors to like them. Murtha’s strength in this area is operating at what Irwin calls a “low-key intensity.” The 56-year-old can break down complicated forensic evidence and expert testimony, and can turn aggressive to make his points. This week, while questioning a state medical examiner, Murtha accused her of rash speculation that led her to deem Gray’s death a homicide. “You actually sort of made up this thing you are calling evidence,” he said in a line of questioning that drew a rebuke from the judge, but not before jurors took in the comment. Murtha is a little shorter and more formally dressed than Proctor, 43, who tends to wear brighter shirts and ties, and has arrived at the courthouse wearing a tweed cap. During the trial, Proctor will pat Porter’s shoulder to put his client at ease. He delivered opening remarks, speaking fast and forcefully. “Facts are stubborn things,” he told the jury, quoting John Adams, before imploring jurors to not rush to generalized conclusions. “Let’s show Baltimore the whole damn system is not as guilty as hell,” Proctor said. For years, he has honed an ability to not take himself seriously even as the jury knows the cases before them couldn’t be more grave. “He’s very good at getting judges and jurors to crack a smile,” said Justin Brown, who has tried cases with him. “There’s strategic value behind that.” Last week, as he cross-examined Brandon Ross, one of Gray’s friends, Proctor asked him if he would believe security camera images that showed Porter speaking peacefully with Ross. “I can’t believe what you say,” the friend replied from the witness stand. “I get that a lot,” Proctor cracked. Both lawyers declined to speak about their defense or the case, citing a gag order imposed by Circuit Court Judge Barry G. Williams. Murtha works out of an office north of Baltimore — and represents clients in state and federal courts. He grew up in Reisterstown, Md., and studied at Towson State University, where he played lacrosse, before going to the University of Baltimore law school. Murtha soon took a job as a prosecutor in the Howard County state’s attorney’s office. The relatively safe suburb — between Baltimore and Washington — is also home to occasional and sensational murders. In early 1993, Murtha secured the conviction of Alton Young, who was 16 when he was accused of raping a tutor named Shirley Mullinix in his home and strangling her with his mother’s scarf. Young “had to kill Shirley because he raped her,” Murtha told jurors during closing arguments. Months later, he and other prosecutors obtained convictions of two men in a case that had become a focal point for national outrage over carjackings. The victim, 34-year-old research chemist Pam Basu, was with her 22-month-old child when two men got into her car, assaulted her and dragged her more than 1 1/2 miles to her death after she’d become entangled in a seat belt. In 1995, Murtha switched to defense work and accepted a job with Irwin’s firm. He quickly showed a strong work ethic. “It took me about half a day to see that. He’s the hardest worker I’ve ever been around, bar none,” Irwin said. That ethic would be tested in 1998, when an affair with former White House intern Monica Lewinsky nearly toppled President Clinton’s presidency. A key player: Lewinsky confidante Linda Tripp, who secretly recorded telephone conversations between herself and Lewinsky as Lewinsky spoke about the affair. Trippfound herself in need of lawyers schooled in Maryland law, and retained Murtha. “Our goal is that it will never get to trial,” Murtha said the day Tripp was indicted for violating the state wiretap statute. He achieved the goal a year later, when prosecutors dropped the case after a series of pretrial rulings went against them. Murtha took on plenty of clients accused of violent acts, as well. In 2007, a federal judge appointed him to represent James “Miami” Dinkins, alleged to have served as a hit-man for a Baltimore drug operation. Dinkins, who once suggested to a confederate that they slip into a hospital to finish off someone who had survived their gunshots, faced the death penalty. Murtha needed a co-counsel in the case. And he’d started hearing about a skilled attorney who had recentlyarrived in Baltimore and did a lot of death penalty work. The two met, and the more Murtha heard about Proctor’s background, the more he liked him. The son of pet-store owners, Proctor was born in Belfast, earned his law degree at Queen’s University and moved to Bermuda to do accounting and legal work. He was called by an attorney in the U.S. representing a Bermuda-born man on death row. That got Proctor interested in American capital defense, so he moved to New Orleans. Proctor met a Maryland native, married her and in 2005 moved to Baltimore. “He’s just so human with everyone,” said his former boss in Louisiana, Phyllis Mann. “Talking with Gary is like sitting down for coffee with your best friend.” That ability to relate came across with clients, with relatives of the victims and ultimately with jurors. His and Murtha’s defense of Dinkins was, in part, successful. Their client was found guilty. But he was sentenced to life in prison and not to the death penalty. In the years that followed, Proctor repeatedly passed up chances to grab short-term, profitable cases — for drunken driving and the like — in favor of complex defense work, often for indigent clients. With Dinkins, he managed to spare his client’s life by placing his past in the context of growing up in the ills and violence of inner-city Baltimore. “By the end of his closing argument, he had half the courtroom crying, my wife included,” said Brown, another defense lawyer in the case. At other times he knows when to crack a joke, often at his own expense. Proctor flashed self-deprecating wit in court papers filed before the Porter trial. Prosecutors had speculated that Proctor and Murtha wanted to raise Gray’s past — including his exposure to lead paint, his criminal record and a lawsuit settlement recently reached over his death. Porter responded they didn’t expect to delve deeply into these areas. “Even the far-flung imagination of the undersigned,” he wrote, “cannot conjure up a manner in which Mr. Gray’s civil settlement is admissable.” Lynh Bui contributed to this report. Sign up for e-mail updates on the Freddie Gray case. 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