Flanked by a lawyer on each side, Jamal Shakir sits at a dark wooden table inside a cold, cavernous courtroom. There are no windows looking out from the dimly lit room on the seventh floor of the Estes Kefauver Federal Building, and the spectator gallery is nearly empty.
Wearing a crisp blue button-down shirt, khaki pants and gold wire-rimmed glasses, the clean-shaven, round-faced defendant listens calmly, looking somewhat disinterested, as though he might be in court for some minor offense. Given the sparsely populated courtroom, it certainly doesn’t appear to be a high-profile matter. But as the prosecutor launches into a series of questions directed at a middle-aged woman on the witness stand, it quickly becomes clear what’s at stake.
“Could you consider the death penalty?” assistant U.S. attorney Sunny Koshy asks Juror No. 260. Standing behind a table piled high with papers, the prosecutor abruptly adds, “Make no mistake, the government is going to stand up and ask for the death penalty.”
Jamal Shakir is one of three defendants facing execution in the Middle District of Tennessee for their alleged roles in the Los Angeles-based gang the Rollin 90s Neighborhood Crips. The gang is accused of murdering multiple victims and distributing massive amounts of crack cocaine, heroin and marijuana in U.S. cities, including Nashville. Armed with an arsenal of semiautomatic guns and other deadly weapons, the Rollin 90s allegedly terrorized the streets, recruiting teenagers to peddle narcotics. When drug debts weren’t paid, enforcers often kidnapped and tortured those who owed money. If someone stole from the gang, or threatened to compromise the operation, a bullet in the back of the head was a likely result.
The prosecutor methodically questions the potential juror about her views on capital punishment, trying to determine what it might take for her to consider imposing the death penalty. What if a pregnant woman was gunned down to prevent her from talking to law enforcement? Suppose an innocent little girl was shot and maimed, just because her parents had somehow provoked the gang? What if a teenage boy was beaten and sodomized because he couldn’t pay for a small amount of crack cocaine?
U.S. District Court Judge John T. Nixon interjects every few minutes, asking the prospective juror to elaborate. The white-haired judge isn’t perched behind his bench, nor is he wearing his usual long black robe—that won’t come until the trial begins. For now, seated in a leather chair in the middle of the courtroom and wearing a three-piece pin-stripe suit, Nixon scribbles notes on a legal pad, occasionally rocking back and forth as the woman answers slowly and in a soft voice.
“Depending on all the circumstances, I could consider the death penalty,” she finally says, but then pauses for a moment. After considering the question for a few seconds longer she hesitantly admits, “To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t know if I could take someone else’s life.”
A few more questions and Juror No. 260 is excused. Then it’s on to the next one.
It’s March 6, 2007, day 10 of Jamal Shakir’s jury selection, a comprehensive process that’s likely to take up to three months. Once the exhaustive search for jurors is complete, the trial could last well into next year, with the government alone expected to call several hundred witnesses to testify.
It’s a daunting endeavor, but given how long this case already has idled, it’s no surprise.
The capital cases of Jamal Shakir and his alleged co-conspirators, Donnell Young and Eben Payne, are among the oldest death penalty cases pending in the federal system, second only to one other. Almost a decade after they first were indicted on drug conspiracy charges here in Nashville, they still are waiting to be tried.
“Cases just aren’t meant to last this long,” according to one lawyer familiar with the case, who agreed to comment on the condition that he not be named. He suggests the government has moved incredibly slowly at every stage of the case, adding, “These delays are of an order of magnitude that’s really unprecedented.” Because the judge has issued a gag order, many local lawyers, even those not connected to the case, are reluctant to talk on the record. Both the prosecution and the defense decline comment, instead referring to the thousands of court documents filed along the way.
Regardless of who is to blame for the delays, legal experts say both the government and the defense will have a harder time proving their cases. As the case has dragged on over the years, evidence has deteriorated, and witnesses have died or disappeared. Even the most credible witness most likely will have forgotten details from 10 or 15 years ago, making it easy to simply say “I can’t remember” to questions posed by both the defense and prosecution.
Not only are there concerns about how slowly these cases have snaked through the federal justice system, but some question why these men are being prosecuted in Nashville, of all places. All three are from Los Angeles, where the drug gang was based, and none of the murders the defendants are directly accused of occurred here.
The defense boldly suggests that federal prosecutors in Nashville sought out this case to boost their reputation and gain political clout. That issue has gained attention from a number of judges on the federal bench in recent years. Just last month, Judge Boyce F. Martin of the 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals wrote in an opinion regarding a capital murder case in Ohio: “Prosecutors are by no means unmindful of the political advantage gained by capitalizing on the number of death sentences they secure.”
Lawyers for the defendants say it’s telling that U.S. attorney offices in California and Oklahoma both passed on this case, likely because the bulk of the evidence comes from snitches, an especially tough sell when seeking the death penalty. But lead prosecutor Sunny Koshy adamantly denies this claim and other “scurrilous accusations” of prosecutorial misconduct. The idea that he would pursue a capital case for political reasons is ludicrous, he states in court papers.
As he awaits trial in federal custody in Tennessee, Shakir has been sentenced to life in prison in California for kidnapping. Young, who has been convicted of no crime yet, is in federal custody awaiting trial. Eben Payne remains locked away in a federal mental institution while the government fights to prove he’s even competent to stand trial.
As the legal wrangling continues, Shakir finally is on the brink of having his day in court. Young was less than a week away from trial when the government filed an appeal seeking to introduce last-minute evidence, halting proceedings in February 2006. More than a year later, the appeal still has not been decided, and Young waits.
The Rollin 90s Neighborhood Crips—known also as the Bangside 90s—is one of many factions of the notorious Crips street gang that originated in Los Angeles in 1969. Federal prosecutors claim Jamal Shakir served as kingpin of the Rollin 90s crew, which moved more than 150 kilos of crack and other drugs from L.A. to sales operations in Nashville, Memphis and Oklahoma City.
What started here in Nashville with local authorities looking to bring down small-time drug dealers on the city’s streets eventually grew into a multi-agency investigation spanning several states. Aided by former gang members who agreed to cooperate, the first federal indictment was filed in U.S. District Court in Nashville in March 1998, charging only one defendant with a single count. The investigation progressed with the help of informants, and eventually federal grand juries sitting in Nashville returned four more indictments, naming dozens of suspects accused of violent crimes, including the murders of gang associates who threatened to expose the illegal operation.
There may have been as many as 13 gang-related murders in three states, investigators say, although the fifth and final federal indictment details only seven. Of those killings, only one occurred in the Nashville area.
In the summer of 1994, Richard Chambers, a 59-year-old L.A. man who police believe served as a drug courier, was found shot several times in the side of the head on a dusty gravel road in rural Cheatham County. Investigators do not believe any of the three defendants awaiting trial for capital murder pulled the trigger or were even present for this particular homicide. Defense lawyers have repeatedly pointed out that the gang member suspected of the killing doesn’t face execution, but because he cooperated with the government, is likely to receive a relatively short sentence, proving death penalty cases are both arbitrary and unfair.
Already facing a long list of drug-related counts from the first round of indictments, Jamal Shakir, Donnell Young and Eben Payne were charged with murder by September 1999. It became clear almost immediately that the government planned to seek the death penalty, although the U.S. Department of Justice did not officially authorize this as a capital case until 2002. The unusually long delay suggests the decision to seek execution was a “difficult one,” one defense lawyer states in court papers.
The average time between indictment and trial in federal capital cases is 20 months. Once prosecutors file their notice of intent to seek the death penalty, the average time to trial is 11 months, according to the Federal Death Penalty Resource Counsel, which tracks the progress of all federal capital cases. Even the most complex death penalty cases involving multiple defendants tend to be tried within a few years of indictment, making this case rare, if not unprecedented.
Perhaps the most complex and high-profile federal death penalty case in U.S. history was that of Timothy McVeigh, who was convicted and sentenced to death for his role in the 1995 bombing of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, which killed 168 people. McVeigh was tried and sentenced to death by 1997 and was executed in 2001.
Although there is one federal death penalty case that dates back further than those pending in Nashville, the single defendant involved has been found incompetent, essentially bringing proceedings to a standstill for the foreseeable future. In that case, lawyers for Roy Green—who is charged with stabbing a federal prison guard to death in California—have maintained their client is insane and bordering on mental retardation. And although his case technically is seven months older, it’s likely he will forever remain unfit to stand trial.
In Nashville, questions regarding the competency of defendant Eben Payne have held up proceedings as well, with defense lawyers arguing (and government psychiatrists agreeing) he is schizophrenic. This battle is ongoing, but because the cases were severed, it no longer threatens to hinder legal proceedings of Shakir and Young. For nearly six years, however, it was one of many setbacks that plagued the case.
When the three defendants first were indicted on federal charges in Nashville, Shakir already had been arrested for kidnapping in California. He was tried, convicted and ultimately sentenced to life in prison in state court before being handed over to federal custody. Though Young and Payne sought to sever their cases from Shakir at the time, both motions were denied and they were forced to wait.
“Simply looking at the length of time does not account for the complexities of this case,” prosecutor Sunny Koshy writes in an October 2005 court document, characterizing this “an expansive continuing criminal enterprise which spans a seven-year period and across at least three states and four cities.” Not only is this no ordinary prosecution, Koshy adds, the defendants have themselves sought numerous continuances that impeded the case.
But considering the government claims “15 man-years” went into this investigation, many of those continuances were necessary for defense attorneys to obtain evidence they claim the government was unnecessarily withholding. Sharing information from the beginning would have streamlined this complex case.
“For many years the government resisted production of discovery,” Richard Kammen, attorney for Donnell Young, states in a 2005 motion filed in U.S. District Court. This wasted time as well as money, which already is limited for the defense. Kammen points out that throughout the case the defense has struggled to obtain adequate funding, which must be approved by the 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.
As for Judge Nixon’s role in the case, Kammen writes: “The court did not promptly rule upon discovery motions and ultimately allowed the prosecution to dictate the pace of the case.” For example, he notes that Nixon took seven months to rule on a request to move the trials to Los Angeles before denying the motion. As a result of such delays, Kammen says his client “has waited far longer for his trial than any capital defendant since the federal death penalty was reinstated in 1988.”
Although Kammen would not comment on this case because of a gag order, he describes a similar case he handled in Las Vegas which he says was handled efficiently. “The judge there required very prompt discovery under rules that protected the government’s interest and the interest of witnesses. The prosecution was resistant but ultimately the judge said this is what we’re going to do.”
Appointed to the federal bench by President Carter in 1980, Nixon earned a reputation as a judge reluctant to impose the death penalty. During a three-year period in the 1990s, Nixon overturned five death sentences, prompting capital punishment proponents, including a contingent of state politicians, to call for his impeachment.
Of the death sentences he overturned, the one that fueled the most controversy was that of Robert Glen Coe, who was convicted in 1981 of the abduction, rape and murder of an 8-year-old girl in a small town outside Memphis. Nixon overturned Coe’s conviction and sentence in 1996, citing improper jury instructions at trial. But two years later, the 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals overturned Nixon’s ruling, and in 2000, Coe became the first inmate executed in Tennessee in 40 years.
“He appears to be motivated by his own personal predilections against the death penalty,” Steve Fitschen, president of the National Legal Foundation, writes about Nixon in an article published in the Regent University Law Review in 1998. He went on to suggest that Nixon “routinely creates an inordinate delay in the death penalty cases assigned to him,” noting that even federal appellate judges have publicly criticized him for such delays.
Although these criticisms were directed at his handling of state death penalty cases that ended up before him on appeal, it’s impossible to disregard his controversial track record when considering the unprecedented capital case currently unfolding in his courtroom.
In 1998—the same year the first indictment was handed down in this case—Nixon, now 74, took senior status, significantly scaling back his caseload. These days, almost all of his time in the courtroom is devoted to this case.
“We are in the midst of selecting prospective jurors for the Shakir case, so he cannot and will not comment on any case that’s before him, especially this one,” Nixon’s secretary, Bonnie Lucas, explains when asked if the judge would comment for this story. “It would be unethical for him to do that.”
Jamal Shakir is said to have kept a running tally of anyone who posed a threat to the Rollin 90s. He called it his “endangered species list,” and if someone landed on it, he or she would likely be dead in a matter of days, according to Special Agent Dan Stitt of the FBI in his testimony before a grand jury in 1998.
Known also by the nicknames “Donut” and “Big Screwloose,” Shakir was domineering, ruling the Rollin 90s by terror, former gang members told investigators. The informants relayed many stories of violent threats, including a time when Shakir threatened to “behead the children” of a low-level drug dealer if he ever talked to police.
Already serving life in prison, Shakir, now 34, faces 45 charges in federal court ranging from obstructing justice to capital murder. He’s charged with the deaths of seven people, although he is implicated in more homicides.
As the gang’s leader, Shakir rarely carried out any murders himself, the government alleges. Of the seven murders charged in the indictment, he is accused of ordering hits on six of the victims and committing only one of the murders in cold blood.
Prosecutors claim Shakir shot to death 19-year-old gang associate Barney Moten. It was a killing he was determined to commit. The motive, they allege, was to prevent Moten from divulging details about their homosexual relationship.
Although Moten was a known homosexual, one government witness explains during grand jury testimony that Shakir “never did show that side of his hand.” The two allegedly had a few sexual encounters, and Shakir often bought Moten expensive clothes and jewelry. Eventually, Moten became less discreet, and people started to talk.
Shakir allegedly told fellow gang members he had to kill Moten because he was likely to break under police questioning, although many believed there was more to the story. With the help of another gang member who later confessed to police, Shakir asked Moten to meet him late at night in a remote neighborhood on the outskirts of Los Anegeles. When Moten arrived, Shakir jumped out of his van holding a gun equipped with a silencer. The witness—who remained in the getaway car—describes hearing one muffled gunshot, then seeing Moten run away, being chased by Shakir. Three more gunshots rang out, and Moten collapsed in the street, where he was left to die. When Shakir returned to the van, he allegedly said he was surprised it took Moten so long to die and that he “cried like a bitch.”
In January, Shakir’s attorneys sought to have the charges stemming from Moten’s murder dismissed, arguing that the motive presented by the prosecution—to keep secret a sexual relationship—has nothing to do with the alleged drug conspiracy that’s the basis of this capital case. Because it’s the only murder Shakir is accused of carrying out, dismissing the charge would certainly help his defense.
Judge Nixon, however, sided with the government’s belief that “Disclosure of Shakir’s homosexual activities would cause him to lose his stature as the leader of a violent major criminal enterprise…. The defendant’s homosexual activity with Moten also heightened the defendant’s fear that Moten would cooperate with law enforcement.”
Shakir’s defense has since argued the government has absolutely no physical evidence tying their client to any of the murders—no fingerprints, ballistics, blood or DNA—and have called into question the reliability of informants the government plans to call to the stand. “The snitches are the only witnesses to the crimes, and their stories can be neither independently confirmed or disproved,” the defense writes. “The snitches have compelling incentives to pin responsibility on Jamal Shakir. Their future literally hangs in the balance, based on their ability to maintain a consistent story.”
Since his arrest on federal charges, Shakir has been repeatedly disciplined behind bars. He allegedly used one of his prior attorneys in this case to smuggle out a letter asking a relative to provide him with cellular phones, and he once was found to possess a stolen handcuff key, which he was hiding in his rectum. Throughout the case the prosecution has refused to reveal the identities of various witnesses, citing the likelihood that Shakir might try to harm them from prison. In documents filed last month, the government reminds the court of Shakir’s “stated desire to escape, blow up police stations, and to kidnap and murder guards or their families.”
As an enforcer for the Rollin 90s, Donnell Young worked the streets collecting money for the gang, the government contends. Known by his associates as “Little Peso,” Young allegedly resorted to abductions, beatings and even murder to get what he wanted.
In one of the more graphic accounts of such crimes, the government claims Young and an accomplice severely assaulted two teenage boys to collect a debt over three ounces of crack. Young allegedly held down one of the juveniles while his associate sodomized the boy with a wooden stick. Because this information did not come to light until late 2005—years after the alleged attack—it still is unclear whether it will be admitted when Young eventually goes to trial.
The one murder Young, 32, is facing the death penalty for is that of gang associate Woody Pilcher in Oklahoma City on Aug. 2, 1997. Investigators believe Young was ordered to kill Woody Pilcher because he either lost or stole large quantities of cocaine he was supposed to sell. When Pilcher’s body was discovered in his home, he had been bound and shot several times in the head.
Within 48 hours of Pilcher’s killing, local Oklahoma City detectives arrested Young and charged him with murder in state court. According to his lawyers, however, federal authorities were calling the shots all along, eventually taking control of the case, which then slowed to a crawl.
Soon after Young pleaded not guilty in federal court in 1999, he learned prosecutors might seek the death penalty. As he awaited the government’s decision, Young wrote a letter to the court “begging” that his case move forward. He also filed a motion asking to sever his case from his co-defendants, and another seeking a speedy trial.
“Despite the fact that Mr. Young had been in jail charged with the Pilcher murder since 1997, had requested a speedy trial in federal court in 1999, he was held without bail, without investigative funds for several years while he waited on a decision about whether he would stand trial for his life,” one of Young’s lawyers writes in a 2005 motion to dismiss the indictment because of unconstitutional pretrial delays.
Even several lawyers with no connection to this case have voiced concerns over the years. In a declaration filed with the court, veteran capital defense attorney Joseph Cleary states that, regardless of the reasons for the delays, the passage of time in this case is highly prejudicial: “I do know that in my experience, a delay of eight years from arrest to an initial trial in a capital case is unprecedented.” It’s been a year-and-a-half since this statement was filed, and still Young waits.
Not swayed, Judge Nixon has denied this and every other motion to dismiss the charges or, at least, to take the death penalty off the table. In a 2005 order, Nixon states he does not believe the prosecution has intentionally delayed trial, and points out that the defense has filed time-consuming continuances. In defending the unusually slow pace of proceedings, Nixon explains in the order, “This case has been extremely complex, starting with over 25 defendants, involving multiple jurisdictions and numerous conspiracy, drug and murder charges.”
Now Young’s case is in a holding pattern once again while the 6th Circuit considers whether to allow the government to introduce last-minute evidence gathered from witnesses who surfaced just days before his trial was slated to begin. Nixon refused to allow the new witnesses, prompting the prosecution to file an appeal. Although Young asked that the matter be expedited (a request that, by the way, was granted), it’s been more than a year and still the matter has not been argued before the appellate court.
“Don’t tell me that in a case that’s this old with a competent prosecution that these witnesses couldn’t have been identified sooner,” says Kelly Gleason, a lawyer with the Office of the Post-Conviction Defender in Nashville who is familiar with this case. “You have to ask, why is this information being released to the defense years and years into the case, given most of the investigation should have been completed by the time of indictment?”
No one involved in this case questions whether Eben Payne is mentally ill. Shortly after his arrest, he was found incompetent, and although prosecutors concede he is delusional and schizophrenic, they remain intent on trying him for capital murder.
Now 28 years old, Payne was one of the youngest gang members who worked directly under Jamal Shakir. The government claims that, following Shakir’s orders, Payne crept into the home of a fellow gang member in Oklahoma City on the night of Jan. 23, 1997. Armed with a pistol, Payne, a.k.a. “Bone,” allegedly shot and killed Kenard Murry and his pregnant girlfriend to prevent them both from cooperating as informants. But Payne didn’t stop there. Next, he allegedly shot the couple’s 3-year-old daughter, striking her in both elbows. The injured child lay there bleeding all night alongside her parents, who both were dead. The little girl was discovered the next day and survived the shooting.
Since being found incompetent to stand trial for the second time in 2005, Payne has been held at the U.S. Medical Facility for Federal Prisoners in Springfield, Mo. Doctors there have diagnosed him with paranoid schizophrenia, saying he suffers from hallucinations and grandiose delusions. They say Payne is convinced he’s a professional athlete and that he’s related to New York Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter. He also believes that he already has been tried and acquitted in this case.
Although Payne has been injected (against his will) with strong anti-psychotic drugs, his lawyers maintain he still is unable to assist with his defense. The prognosis is that Payne will “in all likelihood suffer from schizophrenia and need treatment for the disorder for the rest of his life,” according to Dr. David Mrad, a forensic psychologist with the federal medical facility for prisoners.
Government lawyers asked the judge last year to reconsider Payne’s competency. In turn, the defense is urging the court to commit Payne for long-term treatment at a mental health facility in California, where he can see his family. Judge Nixon has not yet ruled.
The trio initially was to be tried simultaneously to save the government time and money, and Nixon set the first of many trial dates in 1999, even before the possible punishment of death was authorized. But the case continued to stall for one reason or another, and trial dates were pushed back again and again. So in 2004, Nixon finally agreed to try the defendants separately at the request of Young’s attorneys, who claimed their client’s right to a speedy trial was being violated. Up until that point, Shakir had sought several continuances because of problems with his representation, while Payne’s attorneys were battling with prosecutors over their client’s competency.
The government has since sought to rejoin the cases, but to no avail. In a November 2006 ruling on the matter, Nixon denied the request, explaining, “Separate trials are appropriate here because there exist conflicts in the theories of defense…as well as a strong likelihood of finger-pointing.”
Now, more than nine years after their initial indictment, the three defendants wait for their day before a jury.
“Unless there are very good reasons, that’s a really long time, particularly in federal court,” says Gerald Skahan, a Memphis defense attorney who has represented a number of capital defendants. The longest death penalty case he’s handled lasted five years, and that was because of complicated issues regarding his client’s competency. Skahan, who is not affiliated with this case, says that if the judge is in a position to blame both sides for delays, it will be very difficult to prove a defendant’s rights have been violated. But he adds, “Even though it’s definitely possible that the defense played a part in this taking so long, it still raises concerns for the defendants.”
After a 16-year moratorium, Congress revived the federal death penalty in 1988 for murders connected to large drug organizations, like the one allegedly ruled by Jamal Shakir. The number of federal crimes punishable by death has since increased, and still only three federal defendants have been put to death since capital punishment was reinstated almost 20 years ago. That’s probably because federal death penalty trials are the most complex and costliest proceedings in the U.S. justice system.
Because the costs associated with the capital cases of Shakir, Young and Payne are under seal, the exact tally may never be known, but they are without a doubt exorbitant.
“The biggest reason this has gone on for so long is that to investigate such a case costs a huge amount of money, and there have been repeated delays because of the reluctance of the courts to authorize enough money,” says Kevin McNally, a lawyer with the Federal Death Penalty Resource Counsel. “That is the main reason for the delay in resolving this case.” McNally, who tracks all federal death penalty cases, adds that while the defense must have funds approved, the prosecution doesn’t have to ask for money. If proper funding is not made available to the defense, the case either will slow down until enough money is secured, or the defense will be unprepared for trial: “If you can’t adequately and timely investigate the case, of course it prejudices the defendant.”
Over the years lawyers for each of the defendants have attempted to chisel away at the government’s case with motion after motion, questioning the prosecution’s motives, playing down the evidence, and arguing that the death penalty is not an appropriate punishment. They assert that the government’s case rests almost completely on the testimony of informants, many of whom are facing jail time themselves.
“All of the government’s evidence implicating Jamal Shakir in the homicides…came from snitches whose testimony, having been bought and paid for by the government through various forms of incentives, might reasonably be questioned,” John Bailey, attorney for Jamal Shakir, wrote in a November 2006 motion to dismiss.
The defense points out that of the 111 death row exonerations in the past 30 years, 46 percent of those wrongful convictions were the result of “snitch testimony,” according to a study released by the Northwestern University School of Law.
But the prosecution says it’s perfectly legal and quite common to rely on informant testimony to dismantle violent organizations, adding that in this case none of the sentences of those who entered into plea agreements are contingent upon convictions or the penalties received.
If the government’s case does in fact rest on the testimony of informants, with little or no physical evidence to support their theories, experts say the prosecution could have a tough road ahead. “Such cases almost always result in rejection of the death penalty,” says Kevin McNally, who in addition to tracking all federal capital cases, practices law in Frankfort, Ky., specializing in capital litigation. “In that sense it’s a huge waste of time.”
Although it’s not unusual for the government to rely on informants, particularly in drug and gang prosecutions, lawyer Kelly Gleason doesn’t believe it’s appropriate to seek the death penalty in such cases. She recalls one case in which she challenged the government’s snitch testimony, calling it “inherently unreliable.” The judge allowed the case to proceed, although a jury ultimately acquitted her client.
Perhaps the most contentious complaint lodged by the defense thus far deals with why charges were brought in Tennessee to begin with, suggesting the case was driven by the “whims” of individual prosecutors looking to get ahead by trying a high-profile capital case. Shakir’s defense team argues “the political ambitions of the prosecutor” were a factor in seeking this as a capital case in Tennessee. “The government does not dispute that this case was presented to both California and Oklahoma federal prosecutors who declined to even charge, much less seek, the death penalty.… The truth is that [they] chose not to prosecute this case, just as they can choose not to charge any capital crime if they believe it is not worthy of prosecution.”
Koshy denies the accusation, saying it merits little response. He also notes that it ultimately is up to the attorney general to decide if it’s appropriate to seek the death penalty.
Without divulging too many details before going to trial, the prosecution maintains that the case started with local investigators looking into illegal drug trafficking in Nashville, which eventually led to a much broader conspiracy. In court filings, Koshy commends the grand jury in Nashville for its diligent work in bringing down a violent drug trafficking gang.
But some observers still are skeptical: “It seems strange that it’s being prosecuted in Tennessee,” says Gleason, adding, “I heard that one of the grand jurors even asked the prosecutor why the case is being tried here in Nashville.”
In a motion questioning the prosecutor’s motives in this case, Shakir’s lawyers refer to the above-mentioned comment. The brief excerpt from a transcript of grand jury proceedings includes Sunny Koshy’s response to the inquiry: “Much of the investigation …a lot of that occurred in this district…and for whatever reason federal prosecutors did not want to proceed in Los Angeles.… We’re not called the Volunteer State for nothing.”
