Issue 331
April 8, 2005

INDEX

Articles

v     An A-List Turnout Does Cochran Justice by Carla Hall

v     Supremacist sentenced to 40 years for trying to have judge killed by Associated Press

v     Video System Aids Order in the Court by P.J. Huffstutter

v     International War-Crimes Prosecutor Gets List of 51 Sudan Suspects

v     Jackson Trial Shifts Focus to Earlier Alleged Victims by Stuart Pfeifer and Steve Chawkins


The following article appeared in latimes.com on April 7, 2005:

An A-List Turnout Does Cochran Justice

Celebrity clients are among 5,000 admirers saying farewell to the L.A. attorney who fought for civil rights and police reform.

By Carla Hall

Times Staff Writer

 

In a funeral overflowing with guests and speakers, emotions and stories, Johnnie L. Cochran Jr., the charismatic attorney who became a household name after successfully defending O.J. Simpson, was eulogized as a man who saw his real calling in the civil rights cases that he undertook on his "journey to justice."

 

The 3 1/2 -hour funeral, as extravagant as Cochran's colorful suits, lasted longer than it took the jury to deliberate the fate of Simpson, his most famous client, who sat among the 5,000 worshipers at the West Angeles Cathedral in South Los Angeles.

 

"The nation needs to understand why we're all here today…. Johnnie Cochran represented to us justice personified," said the Rev. Al Sharpton, noting that when the Los Angeles-based attorney made a second home in New York, where Sharpton lives, he worked on police brutality and racial-profiling cases, among others.

 

"Johnnie Cochran was to this era what Thurgood Marshall was to the era before," Sharpton said, referring to the civil rights attorney and first black Supreme Court justice who was one of Cochran's idols.

 

Directing his gaze at Simpson, Sharpton continued, "With all due respect to you, Brother Simpson, when we heard about the acquittal, we weren't clapping for O.J., we were clapping for Johnnie."

 

The mourners roared their approval.

 

"We were clapping because for decades our brothers, our cousins, our uncles had to stand in the well with no one to stand up for them. And finally a black man came and said, if it don't fit — you must acquit."

 

The mourners gave a standing ovation as Sharpton delivered Cochran's most famous line from the Simpson trial.

 

It was one of many dramatic moments during a funeral that, like Cochran, was an engaging and indefatigable mix — funny and poignant, smart and passionate.

 

Dr. Calvin Butts, pastor of Abyssinian Baptist Church in New York, one of the oldest and most influential black churches in the nation — who, along with Cochran's pastor, Dr. William S. Epps of Second Baptist Church in Los Angeles, presided — gently but repeatedly urged speakers to be brief.

 

But the people who came to eulogize Cochran just couldn't abide by that. Cochran was just too rich and vivid a figure in their lives. After all, among those gathered under one elegant and expansive roof, were two preachers and former presidential candidates (Jesse Jackson and Sharpton), a music mogul and former Cochran client (Sean "P. Diddy" Combs), a congressman (Charles B. Rangel), a lawyer turned TV personality (Star Jones Reynolds) and the man whose eventual court victory Cochran considered his most important (Geronimo Pratt, now Geronimo ji Jaga).

 

And those were just some of the two dozen people who spoke to the assembled mourners, including his wife, Dale Mason Cochran, his sisters, his children, and his father, Johnnie L. Cochran Sr. At the front of the church lay the polished coffin covered with white roses, begonias and gladiola. In addition to a choir from the Second Baptist Church, Stevie Wonder performed a song, crooning gently, "I'll be your comfort through the pain…. "

 

Scattered throughout the church were politicians and activists, members of his law firm, business tycoons and the people who took care of him during his illness. Seated along the wall were 225 red-jacketed members of Kappa Alpha Psi, the venerable black fraternity, who rose from their seats when called upon, creating a blanket of color.

 

Film director Spike Lee, businessman and former Laker star Magic Johnson, actress Angela Bassett, Los Angeles Councilman Bernard C. Parks, Rep. Maxine Waters (D-Los Angeles), attorney Gloria Allred and F. Lee Bailey, a former co-counsel on the Simpson criminal case, were present. Among the people who sat behind the pulpit and waited for their turns to speak were attorneys Barry Scheck and Peter Neufeld, who worked with Cochran and also formed a law firm with him to tackle civil rights cases.

 

Neufeld recalled Cochran taking the case of the Haitian immigrant, Abner Louima, who was brutally sodomized by New York police. Neufeld said that in that case as in others, Cochran believed that it wasn't enough to win a large settlement. He also demanded reforms.

 

"He thought this would be an opportunity not to just deal with police brutality," he said, but to challenge the policy that allowed police officers to decline interrogation for 48 hours. The policy has since been changed.

 

When Butts called on Cochran's clients in the audience to stand, the group across the main floor of the church included Simpson and Louima.

 

"I believe Johnnie was a voice for those who could not speak for themselves," Louima said as he listened to the service. Cochran won him an $8.75-million settlement. Louima now lives in Miami. "Besides being my lawyer, he was my friend," he said.

 

Michael Jackson — who was represented by Cochran in his financial settlement with sexual-abuse accusers in 1993 — sat with his current attorney, Thomas A. Mesereau Jr. After the funeral, he declined to speak about Cochran as he was ushered to a waiting car. But Simpson, who departed the funeral as photographers snapped away and onlookers called his name, spoke glowingly of the architect of his criminal defense.

 

"This turnout shows what he meant to the community," Simpson said. "He was a Christian man. He just happened to be a great lawyer."

 

In the pulpit, speakers mixed scriptural verse with anecdotes. Mayor James K. Hahn spoke of going to the River Jordan in Israel on a trip with Cochran.

 

"He didn't just love justice or admire justice, he did justice, he achieved justice, he fought for justice," said Hahn, referring to the theme of the service, "Journey to Justice," which is also the title of Cochran's first memoir.

 

"He was a commander of the court and a maestro of the jury," said Connie Rice, a co-director of the Advancement Project, an organization she started with former colleagues from the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund. She said the second phone call she got after she joined the NAACP was from Cochran, who offered his help. Noting that the NAACP was once Marshall's law firm, Cochran told her, "Anything you want, you call me."

 

Family members, including his daughters Melodie and Tiffany, and his son Jonathan, spoke eloquently of how they shared him with the world but knew he cherished them above all else.

 

"He loved basking in the sunshine of celebrity," said William Baker Sr., the husband of Cochran's sister, Pearl Cochran Baker, and his longtime friend. "But home with his family was where he came to exhale."

 

Friends marveled at the closeness of Cochran and his wife, whom they credited with taking extraordinary care of him.

 

Cochran loved big Southern dinners and was a "devourer of barbecue," as Baker put it. He wanted to take singing lessons, but he "suffered from extreme rhythm deprivation," Baker said.

 

Battling the effects of the brain tumor that eventually killed him, Cochran struggled through physical therapy last summer so he could walk his daughter, Tiffany, down the aisle at her wedding, unassisted.

 

"He did it as only my dad could do it," Tiffany Cochran Edwards told the mourners. "With grace and style, elegance and his signature smile. I learned more about determination that day than I did from any trial," she said, her voice wavering.

 

Combs recalled Cochran as "Uncle Johnnie."

 

"I really got to know him one night in December," he deadpanned about the night in 1999 when he got himself "in a situation," which eventually led to a weapons possession charge. "I begged him to please come get me out of jail. It didn't matter that it was the night after Christmas. It didn't matter that he was on vacation. He came."

 

Cochran got him acquitted of the charges. "He saved my life. Because of him, I get to see my kids, I get to see my mother, I get to make music, and I get to be here today with you."

 

Like several others, Combs recounted the dazzling figure that Cochran cut.

 

"When Johnnie walked, it was like the theme from 'Shaft' was playing in the background," said Combs, as the audience broke into laughter.

 

Cochran's law partner, Eric Ferrer Jr., serenaded the group with a haunting melody on an African instrument he said he played for Cochran while visiting him during his illness.

 

When he went to pay his respects, Ferrer said, he could think only of all the cases he still wanted to work on with Cochran. But then he realized that he was prepared to go on without him.

 

"He trained us to continue his work," Ferrer said. "The only way to do him justice is to do justice in the world."

 

 

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The following article appeared on CNN.com on April 6, 2005:

 

Supremacist sentenced to 40 years for trying to have judge killed

CHICAGO, Illinois (AP) -- Avowed white supremacist Matthew Hale was           sentenced to 40 years in prison Wednesday for trying to have a federal judge killed -- the same judge whose husband and mother were murdered five weeks ago by a man who had no connection to Hale.

 

Hale, the 33-year-old leader of a group that preaches racial holy war, was sentenced after a rambling, two-hour speech in which he claimed he was the victim and even recited part of the Star Spangled Banner. He showed no emotion and sat staring at the defense table as the sentence was handed down.

   

Prosecutors argued for the maximum sentence, saying Matthew Hale's crime amounted to an act of terrorism, and the judge agreed.

 

"Mr. Hale is not concerned about taking someone's life, but rather how to do it without getting caught," U.S. District Judge James Moody said in imposing the sentence. "I consider Mr. Hale to be extremely dangerous and the offense for which he was convicted to be extremely egregious."

        

Hale was convicted in April 2004 of soliciting an undercover FBI informant to murder U.S. District Judge Joan Humphrey Lefkow of Chicago in retaliation for her ruling against him in a trademark dispute.

 

Prosecutors said Hale was furious that Lefkow ordered him to stop using the World Church of the Creator name for his group. Lefkow said the name was trademarked by an Oregon-based church group. 

 

The case took on a higher profile after Lefkow's husband and elderly mother were shot and killed in the Lefkow home in late February.

           

Early suspicion fell on Hale followers but days later a Chicago man disgruntled over a ruling in his medical malpractice lawsuit fatally shot himself in Wisconsin and confessed to the slayings in a note.

 

Hale acted as his own attorney during the sentencing, as he had for much of the trial. He compared himself to Lefkow, saying they were both victims.

 

"Before you does stand a man who not only is innocent, not only is demonstrably innocent, but who refused to join a plot against Judge Lefkow's life," Hale said.

 

In his rambling, arm-waving, speech to the court before the sentencing, Hale brought up the murders, despite Moody's efforts to stop him.

 

“This horrible lie may have had some effect on this scoundrel and what happened to her family," Hale said.

 

He admitted that he was "wandering a bit" but rambled on about the case. He compared the FBI to the Gestapo, claimed the news media smeared him, said he had been poorly represented by his former lawyer and ended by reciting the last 17 words of the Star Spangled Banner.

 

"Before you does stand a man who not only is innocent, not only is demonstrably innocent, but who refused to join a plot against Judge Lefkow's life," Hale said.

 

He said he never meant to encourage the murder of Lefkow. In fact, he said, he considered Lefkow and himself to be "on the same side against these liars."

 

At one point, he turned to prosecutors and courtroom audience and begged them: "Somebody tell her that it's a lie, somebody tell this poor woman."

 

A court officials said Lefkow stayed away from the building Wednesday to avoid the hearing.

 

Hale's parents and brother sat together in court during the hearing. "I think it's absolutely horrible," Hale's mother, Evelyn Hutcheson, said. "Matt's the only one in there telling the ... truth."

 

 

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The following article appeared on latimes.com on April 4, 2005:

 

Video System Aids Order in the Court

A Michigan county confronts concerns about costs and security by adopting technology that allows judges to face suspects on camera.

By P.J. Huffstutter

Times Staff Writer

 

PONTIAC, Mich. — On most afternoons, Chief Judge Wendy Potts faces a full docket

and an empty courtroom.

 

With the use of a high-speed digital video-conferencing system, Potts can see the accused whose cases come before her — every facial wrinkle and every eye blink — and they can see her inside Oakland County's 6th Judicial Circuit Court from their jail cells across the street.

 

This virtual hall of justice is part of a countywide system that experts say is one of the nation's best in using technology to grapple with rising concerns about security and costs at the nation's courts.

 

"The less you have to move a prisoner, the more secure it is for us all," Potts said. "Security and safety is on the minds of everyone at the courthouse these days."

 

After the courthouse killings in Atlanta last month and the February slayings of a federal judge's husband and mother in Chicago, officials from police departments and courthouses nationwide have inquired and come to southeast Michigan to see how the Oakland County system is working.

 

Officially launched in November, the OakVideo project is running in three district courthouses, five circuit courtrooms, nearly all holding facilities and all of the county prosecutors' offices. A few courtrooms are waiting for hardware or training; by August, installation is expected to be complete.

 

The heart of the $6.7-million project is a grid of high-speed data lines — an estimated 680 miles' worth — that link the computers of every city, village and township building in the county.

 

The technology has legal limits: Among other things, it can't be used for cases involving minors, mental health evaluations or examinations, or the actual trial — where a person physically must appear in the courtroom.

 

But there's much it can do. The bulk of criminal arraignments here are conducted by video conference. Judges can also use it for criminal pleas, preliminary examinations, expert testimonies, pretrial motions and sentencing for misdemeanors.

 

Some judges no longer meet with police officers to issue warrants — instead they watch on a computer screen as physical evidence is held in front of a camera.

 

Although county officials say they are still gauging the cost savings, they believe the financial benefits seem obvious.

 

"We can save millions in officer overtime and transportation costs not only for arraignments, but also for obtaining warrants and other things," said Robert

Pence, project manager of the video-conferencing system. "We expect this to pay for itself in the first two years."

 

Advocates say it would be foolish not to tap technology to make the judicial process simpler and more secure. Yet Oakland County's cutting-edge system is raising questions about legal rights: A person has the right to confront his or her accuser. Does that mean facing them in person?

 

"Whenever we introduce new technologies, we have not just unintended consequences, but unforeseen consequences," said Jonathan Gaw, a technology industry analyst for the research firm IDC. "They could be for good or for bad. It's almost impossible to predict, but it's always a slippery slope."

 

Defense lawyers have voiced concerns: How can they have confidential consultations with clients if the camera is rolling? How can a lawyer see and gauge the mood inside the courtroom from the jail?

 

"If this were a trial, and I was trying to cross-examine someone's testimony, how can I intimidate you by camera?" asked Stephen Kale, a defense lawyer and a consultant on the project. "How can I tell if you smell of alcohol or something else? It definitely affects the adversarial process."

 

The county's efforts began about eight years ago, when police officers and prosecutors decided they were spending too much time on the road in far-flung rural areas trying to obtain search and arrest warrants.

 

"There were times when a simple arraignment would take me away from work all day, what with the driving and waiting at the court," said Scott Fischer, the sole police detective for the village of Holly, Mich. "It can take an hour to drive to the courthouse, an hour to drive back. Along the way, people have jumped out of vehicles, tried to run off, do all sorts of things."

 

As an alternative, the county's courts began experimenting with video technologies. A computer-industry boom in the region in the late 1990s helped the agencies involved find solutions.

 

Tapping funds from federal grants and county bonds, the county's information technology department created a computer lab to address the needs of circuit judges, corrections officers and others.

 

The department customized each of its computer systems — and used software from companies such as IBM to connect everything.

 

Some, including Judge Edward Sosnick, were hesitant yet curious.

 

"It's a trade-off — the human dimension for technological advantages," said Sosnick, who has been on the bench for 21 years. "Not even having the person there? When I was younger, this would have been science fiction."

 

On a recent afternoon, Judge Potts entered her nearly empty court, ready to hear a long list of arraignments. There were only two other people — a prosecutor and Potts' court clerk — in a room that can seat 60 people.

 

Sitting at her bulletproof bench, clad in a formal black robe and pearl earrings, the judge reached across the aged wooden desk and turned on a flat-screen monitor.

 

Across the street, Oakland County Sheriff's Lt. Tim Atkins, a supervisor at the county jail, stood in front of a holding cell, where three inmates in blue jumpsuits milled about a concrete cell.

 

In single file, the men took several steps into a room about the size of a walk-in closet, with a metal ring for shackles mounted on the wall. A gray folding chair was positioned in front of a floor-to-ceiling storage unit that housed a large TV screen, a computer and a video camera with built-in microphone.

 

Potts' face, calm and studious, looked out from the TV screen as the first man sat down. "Shall we begin?" she asked.

 

About $250 million worth of video-conferencing tools are sold each year to federal and state agencies worldwide, said Andrew W. Davis, a managing partner with Wainhouse Research, an independent firm that specializes in conferencing technology.

 

In West Virginia, the Supreme Court of Appeals shifted to video conferencing for the bulk of its first-appearance hearings. Within the first year of use, according to court officials, video conferencing saved the state $30 million.

 

Not every use of the technology has been judged successful. At Los Angeles County Superior Court, judges stopped using the technology for criminal-court arraignments because "it was not cost-effective," said Allan Parachini, a court spokesman.

 

Parachini said it was just as easy to transport inmates, usually held nearby, as it was to put them in front of a camera.

 

And technology, no matter how advanced, isn't perfect.

 

Potts was about to hear her first arraignment of the day when the microphone at the jail suddenly shut off. The judge could see a prisoner's mouth moving, his fingers kneading his knees and the dejection in his eyes. But there was no sound.

 

Potts interrupted and asked: "Can you hear me?" The prisoner's mouth moved. She could read his lips, which formed the word "yes."

 

Fifteen minutes later, a call came: Someone at the jail accidentally hit the mute button. Problem solved.

 

The judge turned toward her computer screen. Court was back in session.

 

 

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The following article appeared on nytimes.com on April 6, 2005:

 

International War-Crimes Prosecutor Gets List of 51 Sudan Suspects

By Warren Hoge

 

UNITED NATIONS, April 5 - The chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court received a list of 51 suspects in the ethnic killing campaign in the Darfur region of Sudan from Secretary General Kofi Annan on Tuesday, opening the way for war crimes trials in The Hague.

 

The confidential list, said to include the names of senior Sudanese government officials, militiamen, army officers and rebel commanders, was compiled by a United Nations commission in January. It reported then that war crimes "no less serious and heinous than genocide" had been committed in Darfur, and it recommended trial by the international court.

 

In the months between the list's compilation and a Security Council resolution on Thursday that assigned the trials to the International Criminal Court, the Council had been at odds over the United States' vehement objections to the court. The Bush administration relented after the Council agreed on language in the resolution that would exempt Americans from prosecution in the court.

     

Mr. Annan delivered the list to the court official, Luis Moreno-Ocampo, in the same, still-sealed envelope that was presented by the commission in January. In response, Mr. Moreno-Ocampo, a former human rights lawyer from Argentina, said, "Now, we have a common task: to end the culture of impunity."

 

At the court's offices in The Hague, officials took possession of nine large boxes containing thousands of commission files documenting the widespread rape, murder and arson committed by marauding Arab militias held responsible for the forced displacement of 2.4 million black African villagers and the deaths of up to 300,000 people in Darfur.

     

Serge Brammertz, the deputy prosecutor for investigations, said it was too early to say when arrest warrants and indictments might be issued, and he expressed hope that Sudan would assist the court.

 

Sudan has said it will refuse to hand over any of its citizens to face trial abroad and will instead prosecute war crimes suspects itself. President Omar al-Bashir took a public oath on Monday, swearing "thrice in the name of Almighty God that I shall never hand any Sudanese national to a foreign court."

 

Mr. Moreno-Ocampo said he would "carefully and independently assess" the proceedings that the Sudanese government says are under way in Khartoum. He also called for help in the investigations from individuals, governments, the African Union and the United Nations.

 

In Khartoum, tens of thousands of Sudanese marched Tuesday in support of a   government campaign denouncing the Security Council resolution ordering the trial of the war crimes suspects in the international court. They stopped to demonstrate at both the British and American Embassies and United Nations local headquarters.

 

 

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The following article appeared on latimes.com on April 4, 2005:

 

Jackson Trial Shifts Focus to Earlier Alleged Victims

By Stuart Pfeifer and Steve Chawkins

Times Staff Writers

 

SANTA MARIA, Calif. — Michael Jackson's child-molestation trial is expected to shift today from allegations that he molested a 13-year-old boy in 2003 to testimony that he molested or inappropriately touched five other boys in the 1990s.

 

Santa Barbara County Dist. Atty. Tom Sneddon said the evidence of previous acts would help prove that Jackson's current accuser is telling the truth.

 

Only one alleged victim was expected to testify for the prosecution. The son of a former Jackson maid will say that Jackson fondled him sexually on three occasions, Sneddon said. Jackson reportedly paid $2 million to avoid a lawsuit with that family.

 

Now 25, Jackson's accuser in a 1993 lawsuit over alleged molestation is not expected to take the stand. But his mother will probably tell jurors that Jackson had spent 30 consecutive nights with her son, then 13, in the boy's bedroom in Los Angeles, said the boy's uncle, Santa Barbara attorney Raymond Chandler. He said 30 other sleepovers occurred at Jackson's Century City condominium, his Neverland ranch in the Santa Ynez Valley, and at hotels in Las Vegas, New York, Florida and Monaco.

 

"What will be powerful is the length of the relationship and the number of times they slept together," Chandler said. "The important thing for the prosecution is simply to place the two of them in bedrooms together all of those nights."

 

Even if that happens, prosecutors will be venturing into some tricky territory for several reasons, according to legal experts.

 

Testimony about four of the five alleged victims will come not from them, but from observers who claim they saw Jackson, 46, molesting, hugging, kissing or fondling the boys.

 

And three of the five alleged victims — including actor Macaulay Culkin — will testify that the pop star never touched them inappropriately, a source close to Jackson said. That could put prosecutors in the unusual position of trying to prove acts that the alleged victims deny.

 

Santa Barbara County Superior Court Judge Rodney S. Melville said last week that

he would admit the testimony under a 1995 state law that allows juries in sex crimes cases to hear about a defendant's prior sexual misconduct, even alleged offenses that are decades old and were never reported.

 

Some of the evidence that Sneddon said he intended to introduce would attempt to show a pattern that mirrored alleged behavior in the current case.

 

A witness was expected to testify that Jackson licked the head of a boy sitting on his lap in a limousine, just as he allegedly licked the current victim's head while they sat side by side on a flight from Miami to Santa Barbara. Witnesses will say that Jackson shared his bed with the boys and encouraged them to call him "daddy," as his current accuser contends, Sneddon said.

 

Prosecutors may even point to horror movies as proof of a "grooming" pattern, which is common to many pedophiles. The aim, experts say, is to accustom boys to the idea of sexual encounters by bringing up subjects such as masturbation, by dipping into porn and by generally acting like young teenagers.

 

In the current case, the accuser told investigators that he and Jackson cuddled after viewing a frightening video. In the 1993 case, the boy told investigators that he and Jackson cuddled after watching "The Exorcist."

 

Chandler, who said he has not been in touch with his nephew since 2000, tried to explain why the young man would refuse to testify.

 

"He's tired of being 'the Jackson kid,' said Chandler, who added that his nephew lives under an assumed name and has moved several times in the last 10 years to elude the press.

 

The mother of the boy in the 1993 case is not likely to say she witnessed any overt sexual acts, said Chandler, whose 2004 book, "All That Glitters," details the case and its effect on his family.

 

Defense attorneys were expected to cast her as a money-hungry opportunist who sought to make a quick buck in a lawsuit against Jackson. But if they play that card too aggressively, it may suggest to jurors that the woman was "selling her son" to Jackson in return for expensive jewelry, luxury trips and the attention of a superstar, Chandler said. That could be what prosecutors would like jurors to believe.

 

The number of alleged victims could have a cumulative effect on the jury, some legal experts said.

 

"What it does is it bleeds Jackson [from] a bunch of cuts. Rather than having to worry about one wound, he now has five or six he's hemorrhaging from," said Peter Keane, former chief assistant public defender for San Francisco County and a professor at Golden Gate University School of Law.

 

"There are going to be some jurors who think, 'Where there's smoke there's fire, and we wouldn't be hearing about all this stuff if there weren't something funny going on,' " said USC law professor Jean Rosenbluth.

 

But hearing the evidence about past acts from third-party witnesses, not the alleged victims themselves, will not be as persuasive as hearing it directly from the alleged victims, legal experts said.

 

"I get the impression the prosecution is throwing in as much as they can to the jury because the individual pieces are not that strong," said Rosenbluth, a former federal prosecutor. "I do think it's obviously a huge break for the prosecution to be able to get this stuff in, but I don't think it means there's going to be an automatic conviction."

 

Jurors were also expected to be told that Jackson has paid two settlements involving allegations of molestation.

 

The alleged victims scheduled to testify for the defense include Culkin and two Australian-born men who met Jackson as boys and became his traveling companions.

Both of the Australian boys appeared on local television news broadcasts in 1993 and said that although they had each shared a bed with Jackson, the pop star had never touched them inappropriately.

 

Culkin has also repeatedly denied that Jackson had ever been inappropriate with him, most recently during an interview on CNN's "Larry King Live."

 

A spokeswoman for Culkin said last week that the actor "is not involved in the proceedings at this time, and we do not expect that to change."

 

At a hearing last week, defense attorney Thomas A. Mesereau Jr. said three of the witnesses to the prior alleged acts whom the prosecution intends to call are "disgruntled" employees who were found by a jury to have stolen from Jackson.

 

He also said the former maid and her son had given inconsistent accounts about what happened during a deposition for a civil lawsuit. "She began by saying she saw something and ended by saying she saw nothing," Mesereau said.

 

The former maid, who was expected to testify about incidents allegedly involving

other boys as well as her son, further damaged her credibility when she sold her

story to "tabloids," Mesereau said.

 

Los Angeles criminal defense lawyer Harland Braun, who has worked with Mesereau

in the past, said he has seen cases in which prosecutors hurt themselves by bringing in weak corroborating testimony. How the testimony about these past incidents plays out will be a pivotal part of the trial, he said.

 

"That evidence will either make or break the prosecution's case," Braun said. "If the prosecution tries to bring stuff in and it falls short, it makes the prosecution look like they're stretching."

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