Last week I wrote that I had never known anyone who was on trial for murder.
Now I suppose I can say I have never known anyone convicted of murder.
Until Friday.
A Delaware County jury came back Friday afternoon and promptly read off a series of guilty verdicts against Bill Smithson, including first-degree murder.
Today the jury will be back in a Media courtroom to hear arguments on whether Smithson should spend the rest of his life in jail, or be put to death for his crime.
Smithson was convicted of all charges in connection with the horrific murder of intern Jason Shephard, who was in the area on a business trip from South Dakota.
The picture painted of Smithson is now a pretty one. Assistant District Attorney Tom Lawrie indicated Smithson apparently plotted against Shephard, lured him to his Thornbury home, then slipped him a date-rape drug in order to have sex with him.
But Smithson apparently did not deliver enough of the drug to the 23-year-old intern. He woke up during the attack and tried to fend off his attacker. He paid for it with his life. Shephard was strangled. His body stayed in the Smithson house for several days, wrapped in sheets and bound with several belts. The body was moved to a basement door, giving every indication that Smithson was planning to dispose of the corpse.
But Smithson did a couple of other things between the time that he snuffed out Shephard’s life and when he was arrested. Police caught up with him sitting beside his grandmother’s grave in a local cemetery.
For one he filed a missing person report on the young intern. Maybe he panicked. Maybe he was trying to figure out just what had happened in his house that night and how it managed to go that far.
But he did something else that almost defies description, and certainly any explanation. The parents of Jason Shephard, after learning their son was reported as missing, flew to Philadelphia to join the frantic hunt.
They were picked up at the airport.
By Bill Smithson.
They apparently inquired if there was any news on their son. Smithson responded “no,” knowing full well that his lifeless body was sitting in the basement of his home.
I have never really been able to get past that.
I knew Smithson. He was a co-worker here. Nobody called him William. Or even Bill. He was always “Billy.”
He was an outgoing guy, always with a quick smile.
In retrospect, I guess I didn’t know him at all.
Now I suppose I can say I have never known anyone convicted of murder.
Until Friday.
A Delaware County jury came back Friday afternoon and promptly read off a series of guilty verdicts against Bill Smithson, including first-degree murder.
Today the jury will be back in a Media courtroom to hear arguments on whether Smithson should spend the rest of his life in jail, or be put to death for his crime.
Smithson was convicted of all charges in connection with the horrific murder of intern Jason Shephard, who was in the area on a business trip from South Dakota.
The picture painted of Smithson is now a pretty one. Assistant District Attorney Tom Lawrie indicated Smithson apparently plotted against Shephard, lured him to his Thornbury home, then slipped him a date-rape drug in order to have sex with him.
But Smithson apparently did not deliver enough of the drug to the 23-year-old intern. He woke up during the attack and tried to fend off his attacker. He paid for it with his life. Shephard was strangled. His body stayed in the Smithson house for several days, wrapped in sheets and bound with several belts. The body was moved to a basement door, giving every indication that Smithson was planning to dispose of the corpse.
But Smithson did a couple of other things between the time that he snuffed out Shephard’s life and when he was arrested. Police caught up with him sitting beside his grandmother’s grave in a local cemetery.
For one he filed a missing person report on the young intern. Maybe he panicked. Maybe he was trying to figure out just what had happened in his house that night and how it managed to go that far.
But he did something else that almost defies description, and certainly any explanation. The parents of Jason Shephard, after learning their son was reported as missing, flew to Philadelphia to join the frantic hunt.
They were picked up at the airport.
By Bill Smithson.
They apparently inquired if there was any news on their son. Smithson responded “no,” knowing full well that his lifeless body was sitting in the basement of his home.
I have never really been able to get past that.
I knew Smithson. He was a co-worker here. Nobody called him William. Or even Bill. He was always “Billy.”
He was an outgoing guy, always with a quick smile.
In retrospect, I guess I didn’t know him at all.
Comments