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Dylann Roof, Addressing Court, Offers No Apology or Explanation for Massacre Dylann Roof, Addressing Court, Offers No Apology or Explanation for Massacre
(about 7 hours later)
CHARLESTON, S.C. — Sometime in the six weeks after he killed nine Bible study worshipers at this city’s Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, Dylann S. Roof wrote in a journal that he had “not shed a tear for the innocent people I killed.” On Wednesday morning, standing before the jurors who will decide whether he should be put to death, Mr. Roof again offered no apology, no explanation and no remorse for the horrific massacre. CHARLESTON, S.C. — Seeming to abdicate one of his last chances to save his own life, the convicted killer Dylann S. Roof stood on Wednesday before the jurors who will decide his fate and offered no apology, no explanation and no remorse for massacring nine black churchgoers during a Bible study session in June 2015.
In a strikingly brief opening statement in the penalty phase of his trial in Federal District Court, where he is representing himself, Mr. Roof repeatedly assured jurors that he was not mentally ill, and left it at that. “There’s nothing wrong with me psychologically,” he said, of a factor that could determine life or death, before striding back to the defense table, taking a deep breath. Instead, in a strikingly brief opening statement in the sentencing phase of his federal death penalty trial, Mr. Roof repeatedly assured the jury that he was not mentally ill — undercutting one of the few mitigating factors that could work in his favor — and left it at that.
By then, Courtroom No. 6 had already been jarred by a reading of two pages from Mr. Roof’s journal, a white supremacist manifesto written in Charleston County’s jail. “Other than the fact that I trust people that I shouldn’t and the fact that I’m probably better at constantly embarrassing myself than anyone who’s ever existed, there’s nothing wrong with me psychologically,” Mr. Roof, who is representing himself, told the jury, which found him guilty last month of the killings at Charleston’s Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church.
“I would like to make it crystal clear I do not regret what I did,” Mr. Roof wrote in the journal, which officials seized in August 2015 and a prosecutor introduced during his opening statement. “I am not sorry.” Three minutes after walking to the lectern, Mr. Roof returned to the defense table, exhaling deeply.
Mr. Roof, who was then 21, also wrote: “I do feel sorry for the innocent white children forced to live in this sick country and I do feel sorry for the innocent white people that are killed daily at the hands of the lower race. I have shed a tear of self-pity for myself. I feel pity that I had to do what I did in the first place. I feel pity that I had to give up my life because of a situation that should never have existed.” Any prospects for mercy by the jury had perhaps already been drained by the prosecution’s disclosure, in its opening statement, of a white supremacist manifesto written by Mr. Roof in the Charleston County jail sometime in the six weeks after his arrest.
As he began to lay out the government’s case for a death sentence, the prosecutor who read from the journal, Assistant United States Attorney Nathan S. Williams, told the jury of 10 women and two men that Mr. Roof’s killing spree had been a premeditated act that had devastated the families of his victims. “I would like to make it crystal clear I do not regret what I did,” he wrote in his distinctive scrawl. “I am not sorry. I have not shed a tear for the innocent people I killed.”
“The defendant didn’t stop after shooting one person or two or four or five; he killed nine people,” Mr. Williams said, a few moments before he declared: “The death penalty is justified.” Mr. Roof, who was then 21, continued: “I do feel sorry for the innocent white children forced to live in this sick country and I do feel sorry for the innocent white people that are killed daily at the hands of the lower race. I have shed a tear of self-pity for myself. I feel pity that I had to do what I did in the first place. I feel pity that I had to give up my life because of a situation that should never have existed.”
Later, aided by a slide show of pictures, he described each of the victims and their lives. As the government laid out its case for a death sentence, the prosecutor who read from the journal, Nathan S. Williams, an assistant United States attorney, told the jury of 10 women and two men that Mr. Roof’s deadly rampage was a premeditated act that had devastated the families of his victims.
The presentations, especially Mr. Roof’s comments and the introduction of the journal, were a startling beginning to the trial’s sentencing phase, which is expected to run into next week. On Dec. 15, after a weeklong first phase, the jury found him guilty of 33 counts, including hate crimes, obstruction of religion resulting in death and firearms charges. Eighteen counts require the jury to decide whether to sentence Mr. Roof, now 22, to either death or life in prison without the possibility of parole. A death sentence requires unanimity. “The defendant didn’t stop after shooting one person or two or four or five; he killed nine people,” Mr. Williams said, a few moments before he declared, “The death penalty is justified.”
Although many people in the courtroom had already heard Mr. Roof’s raspy, Southern-inflected monotone during the guilt phase of his trial, when prosecutors played a video recording of his confession, his opening statement on Wednesday was the first time he had directly addressed jurors. He chose to allow his court-appointed legal team to represent him during the guilt phase, but sidelined them to represent himself during the penalty phase in order to prevent them from introducing any mitigating evidence regarding his family background of mental capacity. Later, aided by a slide show, he described each of the victims and their lives, setting the stage for several days of gut-wrenching testimony by family members and friends of the victims. Mr. Williams emphasized that Mr. Roof was capable of remorse and regret, reminding jurors that he had left his mother a note of apology, but only for the pain he knew his actions would cause his own family.
His decision to spend only three minutes addressing the jury, and to devote the time to insisting that he was not impaired, seemed to solidify the impression of a man unwilling to rely upon what experts believe is his best opportunity to avoid execution: a mental health defense. He has said he does not plan to call witnesses or present evidence in his behalf. The presentations were a startling beginning to the trial’s sentencing phase, which is expected to run into next week in Federal District Court. On Dec. 15, after six days of testimony in which defense lawyers did not contest his guilt, the jury found Mr. Roof guilty of 33 counts, including hate crimes, obstruction of religion resulting in death, and firearms charges.
“The point is that I’m not going to lie to you, not by myself or through somebody else,” said Mr. Roof, who spoke from a lectern. As his paternal grandparents watched from the second row on the left side of the courtroom, several women left their seats on the right side, which is reserved for family members of the victims, one of them muttering curses. Eighteen of those counts require the jury to decide whether to sentence Mr. Roof, now 22, to death or life in prison without the possibility of parole. To impose a death sentence, jurors must unanimously find that aggravating factors like premeditation and the number and vulnerability of the victims outweigh any mitigating factors, like the absence of prior violent behavior and demonstrations of redemption and remorse. Mr. Roof is also facing a death penalty trial in state court.
Mr. Roof’s minimalist approach stands in sharp contrast to the strategy of Justice Department officials, who could call more than 30 witnesses to try to depict Mr. Roof as remorseless and calculating. The witness list is expected to include at least one survivor of the attack, family members of the victims and federal law enforcement officials. Although many people in the courtroom had already heard Mr. Roof’s flat, Southern-inflected monotone during the guilt phase, when prosecutors played a video recording of his post-arrest confession to F.B.I. agents, his statement on Wednesday was his first to the jury.
Prosecutors began on Wednesday morning with Jennifer Benjamin Pinckney, the widow of the church’s slain pastor, the Rev. Clementa C. Pinckney. Mr. Roof chose to allow his court-appointed legal team to represent him during the guilt phase, but sidelined them during the penalty proceedings to prevent them from introducing any evidence regarding his family background or mental capacity.
Ms. Pinckney, who had been married to Mr. Pinckney for 15 years, narrated an affectionate and often lighthearted telling of their life together, illustrated by dozens of photographs of her husband — as a young saxophone player in the school band, in a white tuxedo for their wedding, attending the births of their two girls, at family reunions, on Caribbean cruises and trips to Seattle. Often exhausted by his dual schedule as a pastor and state senator, he was shown in several pictures having fallen asleep in the back seat of the family car and on a couch while reading to his daughters. “The point is that I’m not going to lie to you, not by myself or through somebody else,” Mr. Roof told the jury. As his paternal grandparents watched from the second row on the left side of the courtroom, several women on the right side, which is reserved for victims’ family members, left their seats, one of them muttering curses.
She talked of birthday dinners with their daughters — one was partial to Red Lobster’s shrimp and crab legs — and of the night of the killings, when Ms. Pinckney and a daughter heard the barrage of gunfire while they were waiting at the church. Mr. Roof has said he does not plan to call witnesses or present evidence on his behalf, and he did not cross-examine any of the prosecution’s witnesses on Wednesday. His approach stands in sharp contrast to the strategy of Justice Department lawyers, who have said they may call more than 30 witnesses, including at least one survivor of the attack, family members of the victims and federal law enforcement officials.
When Mr. Roof had the opportunity to cross-examine Ms. Pinckney, he said only, “No questions.” Prosecutors began Wednesday with the widow of the Rev. Clementa C. Pinckney, the church’s slain pastor, and his two best friends.
Mr. Roof and his now-sidelined legal team made no effort to contest his guilt across six days of testimony last month, when prosecutors and their witnesses described the killings in gruesome detail. Jennifer Benjamin Pinckney, who was married to Mr. Pinckney for 15 years, narrated an affectionate and often lighthearted telling of their life together, illustrated by dozens of photographs of her husband — as a young saxophone player in a school band, attending the births of their two daughters, vacationing on Caribbean cruises and on a trip to Seattle.
As Mr. Roof’s approach to the penalty phase and the government’s evidence emerged on Wednesday, the proceedings seemed to be a partial reflection of the defendant’s writings, which investigators gathered after the massacre at Emanuel, the oldest African Methodist Episcopal congregation in the South. In the writings, which include a different journal, an online manifesto and letters to his parents, Mr. Roof railed against African-Americans, condemned psychology as “a Jewish invention,” declared that he had acted alone and made circumscribed expressions of regret, but only for the pain it would cause his family. She described him as a soul-stirring preacher who extended his ministry as “a voice for the voiceless” to his work in the South Carolina Legislature, where he served first in the House and then the Senate. Often exhausted by his dual roles, he was depicted in several pictures as having fallen asleep in the back seat of the family car and on a couch while reading to his daughters.
At the Bible study, Mr. Roof said almost nothing for nearly 45 minutes as the group of 12 studied the Gospel of Mark. Around 9 p.m., as the parishioners closed their eyes for a final prayer, he removed the Glock .45-caliber semiautomatic pistol he had secreted in a pouch and opened fire. The only explanation he provided to his victims as he methodically gunned them down, according to the testimony of one of the two women who survived the rampage, was, “I have to do this, because y’all are raping our women and y’all are taking over our world.” “He was the person that I think every mom would be happy that her daughter would marry,” Ms. Pinckney, a school librarian, said. “He was that great catch.”
He first shot Mr. Pinckney, before aiming his handgun at the parishioners who scrambled to hide under tables. Although investigators said Mr. Roof fired more than 70 rounds of hollow-point ammunition during his rampage, he did not shoot everyone at the Bible study. Ms. Pinckney also described her terror on the night of June 17, 2015, as she and the couple’s younger daughter, Malana, then 6, listened to the gunfire from their hiding place beneath a desk in her husband’s study. As her husband and the others were gunned down in the adjacent church fellowship hall, Ms. Pinckney struggled to keep her daughter quiet and still.
But he spared few people he met that night. In addition to Mr. Pinckney, who was also a state senator, the victims included the Rev. DePayne Middleton Doctor, 49; Cynthia Hurd, 54; Susie Jackson, 87; Ethel Lee Lance, 70; Tywanza Sanders, 26; the Rev. Daniel Lee Simmons Sr., 74; the Rev. Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, 45; and Myra Thompson, 59. “I was just like, ‘Shh, shh, shh,’ ” Ms. Pinckney said, “and I put my hand over her mouth, and she was holding on to me, and she put her hand on my mouth.”
Ms. Pinckney, who had been in the church offices with a daughter when the gunshots began, dialed 911 and waited for the police. Amid the chaos and gunfire, her daughter asked, “Is Daddy going to die?” “Mama, is Daddy going to die?” her daughter asked, Ms. Pinckney said. She said the hardest thing she had ever done was telling her two daughters early the next morning that their father had been killed.
Later that night, Ms. Pinckney told her daughters that their father was gone. Ms. Pinckney said she had heard Mr. Roof try to open the door to the study, which she had locked when the shooting began. Another assistant United States attorney, Julius N. Richardson, asked why she thought she had been spared. “It wasn’t my time,” Ms. Pinckney answered. “I couldn’t see God taking both parents away from two small kids.”
Mr. Roof was arrested the next morning in Shelby, N.C., where he confessed to F.B.I. agents and appeared stunned to learn the grim toll of his rampage. The Rev. Kylon Middleton, an A.M.E. minister who had known Mr. Pinckney from childhood, described his lifelong friend as immensely precocious (he began preaching at 13) and strategically ambitious (he aspired to be both a bishop and, perhaps, the state’s first African-American governor).
“I wouldn’t believe you,” Mr. Roof replied after an agent suggested to him that nine people had been killed. “There wasn’t even nine people there. Are you guys lying to me?” In addition to Mr. Pinckney, the victims were the Rev. DePayne Middleton Doctor, 49; Cynthia Hurd, 54; Susie Jackson, 87; Ethel Lee Lance, 70; Tywanza Sanders, 26; the Rev. Daniel Lee Simmons Sr., 74; the Rev. Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, 45; and Myra Thompson, 59.
Mr. Roof, who is also facing a capital prosecution in state court, reluctantly allowed lawyers to represent him during the trial’s guilt phase, but he took control of his defense during jury selection and again on Wednesday for sentencing proceedings. He disregarded Judge Gergel’s warnings that self-representation, permitted under a 1975 ruling by the United States Supreme Court, was “a bad idea,” and he did not reverse his decision before the judge’s deadline. Near the end of the day, Ms. Thompson’s widower, the Rev. Anthony B. Thompson, the vicar of a Reformed Episcopal Church here, told jurors about their 16-year marriage, their anniversary date to a beach, his wife’s determined demeanor and her commitment to the historic congregation.
Defense lawyers, who had intended to mount a defense rooted in Mr. Roof’s mental health, pointedly resisted his efforts for weeks but, ultimately, were ordered to serve only as standby counsel, a status that allows them to offer guidance but not to make objections or question witnesses. In testimony that was mixed with laughter and tears, Mr. Thompson recounted their final day together as she prepared for the evening study of the Gospel of Mark. “She had her glow,” he said. “I mean, this smile on her face. She was radiant. I just kept looking at her.”
Mr. Roof’s plans for them to serve a diminished role had become clear by mid-December, when the lead defense lawyer, David I. Bruck, used his closing argument during the trial’s guilt phase to signal to the jury that Mr. Roof might be mentally troubled. Lacing his presentation, his last to jurors before sentencing, with words like “delusional,” “abnormal” and “irrationality,” Mr. Bruck portrayed Mr. Roof as a loner with no meaningful relationships. Word of a shooting came hours later, and Mr. Thompson rushed to the church. He demanded to know whether she had been injured or killed. He eventually found out.
On Wednesday, Mr. Roof suggested that jurors disregard Mr. Bruck’s statements. “My whole world was gone,” he said. “I literally did not know what to do. Everything I did was for her, and she was gone. What am I here for? If she’s gone, what am I here for?”