Casey Anthony: Not Very Appealing, Part 1

Casey’s appeal will be heard today. I will expound on that after it unfolds. First, here’s a little background music to set the mood…

I guess most of you know by now that Casey lives in a gated community in Cape Canaveral. If you know the location; fine, but I’m not going to disclose it here. There are too many people living there and they don’t need an onslaught of visitors, including media-types and hostile folks out to get her.

For certain, she has been spotted around town. I know people in that neighborhood; some so well that I won’t even discuss them — and virtually across the street from her. I will tell you what I do know about her, though, before I go into today’s appeal and what I wrote years ago that led up to this motion; the gist, of which, is whether she was Mirandized while being questioned, whether she was legally under arrest when placed in the back of a police vehicle the night of July 15, 2008, and whether the four misdemeanor convictions for lying to law enforcement should be considered double jeopardy. In other words, were four charges too many? Could they have been condensed into one since they were, virtually, one and the same?

Casey likes the Cape Canaveral neighborhood and the surrounding area. She loves the bars at the port, where giant cruise ships sail. They are a sight to behold. She’s always enjoyed that side of Central Florida and I can’t say I blame her. For sure, if you’ve never been up close to a cruise ship or watched one leave port while sitting on an outside deck sipping a cold drink, munching on a fresh grouper sandwich or oysters on the half shell, you’re missing something. Besides, don’t cruises run in her family?

She’s been spotted out and about, alright, but she never looks anyone in the eye. Never. That’s why a lot of people question whether it’s her or not. They’re pretty sure, but they’re not sure. During the day, there’s hardly a time that she doesn’t wear her big sunglasses. To me, that’s a giveaway. Most of the time, she wears wigs. That helps keep her from being identified.

Where she lives, she walks her pet. A maintenance man offers up treats to all the neighborhood dogs, but wonders why this particular woman thanks him while looking askance; her face emotionless. Never in the eyes. No smile, but gracious just the same.

In order to move into the place where she lives, she needed help. This is where it gets quite interesting. Her father, George, is seen all the time. He never hides from view. He’s the one who got her in. She’s got a three-month lease with an option for three more. 

On the day of the final hearing before the trial, George took the stand. Jose Baez asked him if he’d be willing to lie for Casey in order to save her life. He said yes. Jose asked him one more time and he responded with a resounding YES, heard loud and clear throughout the courtroom. I know; I was there.

When George was accused, during Baez’s opening statement, of sexually molesting his daughter since childhood, I immediately reminded myself of the words spoken by him only a month or so earlier. Did I really believe George had ever touched Casey improperly? No, of course not. For the most part, no one did. However, did I think there was a (better than) good possibility that the State had been set up? That he was the fall guy, willing to allow it in order to save his daughter from conviction and a possible sentence of death? You’d better believe it! They are a family of liars and the record is clear on that matter, in my opinion. There is no defamation here. No libel or anything else. I firmly believe George swallowed that bitter pill because it was the only thing — a very desperate move — that would help assure his daughter’s acquittal. He set up the defense by turning her into the real victim. This was a brilliant move because, in the end, no one would brand him an incestuous child molester. Who, in all reality, would really believe it? It was a win/win scenario! Do I know this to be true? No, of course not, but this is what I’ve been told, considered hearsay in a court of law.

George has been spending an awful lot of time in Cape Canaveral, according to witnesses willing to speak publicly. He was the force behind her getting into the community where she lives. That comes from inside. He dotes over his daughter like a mother hen. (Let’s not go into how henpecked he is.) He makes sure she is safe. Does this sound anything like a father scorned? One who was maligned so wretchedly by his ingrate daughter?

Let’s say this. During the Christmas holiday season, she left her safe harbor because news crews were parked outside. That’s been going on months now. She went to a condo down the road in Cocoa Beach; a condo owned by snowbirds who are close personal friends of the Anthonys. Does this sound anything like a broken family set apart by the death of their beloved granddaughter? No, but in order to understand that dynamic, one must remember that mother and father still believe the loss was a giant accident; that daughter would never do such a heinous thing of which she had been charged. In the end, the court proved it. They had been right all along, but had they? That no longer matters. In the end, the family seems whole again; over the ordeal that lasted for years, ripping at their souls. Today, George goes happily about his business of being a father, fulfilling the pledge he made under oath on the final hearing before his daughter’s trial. Meanwhile, those persnickety TV trucks are always lurking. In my opinion, they need to leave her alone. Not out of concern for her, mind you, but for the safety of the residents of her community — the people who never invited her in, but must live with her. They could fall victim if enough people with bad ideas try to find her.

When Casey was returning to the condo, a local TV station’s trucks had been laying in wait; ready to pounce. They relentlessly pursued her every step of the way. She called 911 and tried to shake them, to no avail. As the private gate to the community opened for her to enter, the truck followed her in. So did a police car or two, and that was the last she saw of them. No one from the unnamed station reported that incident, nor has there been anything new to report from anyone else. Most people are tight-lipped. No one pays much attention to her in and out of the small world where she resides, seemingly, far from harm. 

If I were you and since I am me, I would proffer this advice: Leave her the hell alone. She may be out of jail, but she will never escape the prison she has placed herself in. Just the other day, someone saw her up close and personal; face-to-face, in other words. A rare sight indeed! She wasn’t wearing her signature sunglasses. Caught off guard! What this person told me was sad, but I felt no sympathy. Casey’s eyes were void. Looking into them, there was nothing but emptiness and a total lack of human emotion; dull and dead. As if she has no soul.