But was he guilty? In a riveting PBS “Frontline” documentary airing Tuesday and Wednesday, three jurors admit that they voted to convict Kelly, 45, even though they had strenuous doubts. Confused, outnumbered and exhausted, they said they collapsed under the force of the majority. “Innocence Lost: The Verdict,” is a follow-up visit to ‘Edenton by veteran producer Ofra Bikel, who, over the last three years, became as obsessed with the case as the parents and prosecutors.
The film suggests other possible improprieties in one of the most closely watched abuse cases in the nation. In interviews after the verdict, juror David Williams says that, in mid-deliberation, he revealed he had been sexually abused as a child–a fact he neglected to disclose in jury selection. juror Dennis Ray admits he poked around Edenton, though the trial had been moved 60 miles to Farmville and the judge ordered them to stay away. And even after they were told to avoid outside sources, juror Roswell Streeter says the panel “diagnosed” Kelly as a pedophile based on a Redbook article. “And to be honest, I don’t think anybody thought I would be sitting up here telling you.”
But talk is what small towns do, and Bikel is only too happy to hold a microphone to Edenton’s lips. What she records is the sound of a town being tom apart, not just by the deepening anger in the parents’ accusations, but also by the children’s ever-changing allegations. The words are unsettling, for the seven defendants (all of whom pleaded not guilty and five of whom are still awaiting trial) and for prosecutors and therapists struggling to get untainted information from children in cases of sexual abuse. From the McMartin Preschool case in Los Angeles, which took six and half years to prosecute and produced no convictions, to the New Jersey conviction of preschool teacher Kelly Michaels, which was overturned this year, communities have fared no better than Edenton in trying to separate actual harm from pack hysteria.
“Lost Innocence” is Bikel’s second foray into this southern Eden, an upper-middle-class community built around children, church and immaculately sculpted hedges. Two years ago, she traced how a 1988 slapping incident involving one child may have sparked the arrests of Bob and Betsy Kelly and five of their employees and friends. Her return is an equally steely examination of the eight-month trial and deliberations that led to Kelly’s conviction. (He is serving 12 consecutive life terms.)
She builds a compelling case that the preschoolers were coaxed and that, with no witnesses and no physical evidence, the charges were not proved beyond reasonable doubt. Most confounding are the children, whose testimony seems erratic at best. The same children who testify that Bob “put his penis in my, um, heinie,” that Betsy touched kids “where she wasn’t supposed to” and that employees openly engaged in sex while Bob took photos also testify that the Kellys regularly shot babies, spirited children into outer space in rocket ships and tossed a little girl off a boat into shark-infested waters. For several jurors, it strained credulity.
Why convict? In the beginning, the panel vowed not to be split. In the end, the force of the jurors convinced of Kelly’s guilt muscled the doubters. Juror Marvin Shackelford said that, having had one heart attack, he couldn’t take the stress. “I finally agreed just to get out of there.” Streeter collapsed under his insecurities. “[It] was like everything that I thought I was hearing…was direct opposite of…what the majority of the jurors felt.” After two weeks of fruitless debate, juror Mary Nichols caved. “Somebody said, ‘Let’s put an end to this, let’s get it over with,’ and I went right along with it.”
William Hart, the special deputy attorney general who led the prosecution, doesn’t believe it was a travesty of justice. He told NEWSWEEK be believes the film is “unbalanced” and that someone may have “gotten to” the jurors. “All I can say is this: each one of the 12 jurors signed each verdict sheet.” No matter: the verdict will shape the remaining trials. “These are the hardest cases I’ve ever done,” said Joseph Cheshire, attorney for Betsy Kelly, awaiting trial on 48 counts. “There is a great fear in these cases that the presumption of innocence went out the window and they said, ‘I don’t believe he’s guilty but maybe they are and I’ll convict him for the sake of the kids’.”
What worries Bikel is whether Edenton is emblematic of a flaw in the criminal-justice system. “They’re telling me the guy is not guilty but they couldn’t stand [by their beliefs]. So how many juries am I not talking to and no one is stumbling on?” Not for a minute does she doubt the jurors who tell her that if they were ever accused, they would accept a plea bargain rather than put their lives in the hands of 12 peers.
