Almost guilty: Boyd goes before judge on felony charges

Renee Boyd and her girlfriend, Rachel Hornback, looked forward to Oct. 17 for the closure it was supposed to bring.

After weeks of haggling, her attorney and the prosecution had arrived at a plea deal: If she pleaded guilty on all counts, the prosecution would seek no more jail time. Only five years' probation, at the end of which her convictions would be removed from her record under what's called suspended imposition of sentence.

If she pleaded guilty, that would be that. And after 8 1/2 months of lawyers, of court dates, of bottomless uncertainty, there was a thread of hope in that, although she had hoped for better. Of course, she could deny the offer if she wanted and go to trial in the hope the jury would believe her more than they believed the police officer she'd been charged with assaulting, but she'd seen how much of a gamble that could be in June.

That was when Judge Michael Gardner -- before whom she was scheduled to appear now as well -- had ruled in favor of the prosecution, denying her motion to suppress the evidence that likely would have gotten her charges dropped. And if she went to trial and got convicted anyway, incarceration could jeopardize her Social Security benefits -- her only source of income.

She intended to take the deal.

In mismatching pink sweaters, she and Hornback sat in the courtroom. Neither would smile, but Boyd seemed calm and free for the most part of the twitches and sneeze-like tremors her Tourette's syndrome often caused and stress typically amplified.

Still, her mouth tightened at the thought of pleading guilty.

"It's better than ..." she trailed off, glancing to the ceiling as her mouth went tight again. She exhaled through her nose, slowly this time.

It wasn't a tic -- it was resignation.

"I wouldn't have had any chance in trial," she said.

Standing with her lawyer, Gordon Glaus, before Judge Gardner, she was sworn in.

To his questioning, she calmly stated she was 23 years old, had completed high school and two years of college, and the only drugs she was taking were her prescribed antidepressants and antipsychotics.

Gardner began the litany of plea-hearing procedure, reading Boyd the charges she faced: second-degree assault on a law enforcement officer for kneeing Cape Girardeau patrolman Jonathan Ortmann in the groin, second-degree assault on emergency personnel for striking paramedic Charles Herman on the shoulder with a closed fist, and third-degree assault on a law-enforcement officer for spitting on police Cpl. Richard Couch's pant leg.

Familiar with the charges, Boyd nodded.

Since her arrest, she had maintained confusion and her Tourette's had caused her to panic and unintentionally hit the men in January, but Gardner was asking yes-or-no questions.

He then told her if she pleaded guilty, he would pass a sentence that might or might not be consistent with the prosecution's recommendation.

He asked whether she understood if she continued, the maximum penalty she faced was 15 years in prison.

She looked at her lawyer, then back to the judge.

"Yes, sir," she answered.

Gardner then asked her to corroborate, in her own words, the guilty plea she wished to enter. Could she, he asked, describe what she had done the night she was arrested?

She didn't answer.

Instead, her head tilted toward her right shoulder until her neck cracked like a knuckle.

"Do you understand?" Gardner asked.

"Yes," she said. "I'm sorry, my ... Tourette syndrome."

Her throat-clearing tic crept gradually into her voice as she began to stammer.

What happened that night was complicated.

If she had been on her medications, if she had not been tackled, if she had not been mentally ill in the first place, it might not have happened at all.

What, Gardner asked, had she done to patrolman Ortmann?

"I had tried to get away," she said. "And, um, kneed him in the groin, but ..."

"Is he a law-enforcement officer?" Gardner prompted.

"Yes."

He asked her whether she had attempted to cause physical harm to Ortmann.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't intend ... um, he had tackled me, and I was scared, so I tried to get away."

By now, she was sniffling and coughing occasionally, losing her composure. She denied malice.

"In the process of that, I kneed him in the groin. ... It was not my intention to ever hurt anybody," she said. "But, yes, I did come into contact with him in that way."

She seemed unsure of what Gardner was asking. Frowning somewhat, he asked her once more to clarify how she had assaulted the officer.

"No, I just -- I wanted to go home," she said. "I was scared."

The judge stopped her.

"Could attorneys approach, please?"

Boyd waited at the podium while her attorney and the assistant prosecutor whispered with Gardner. A court clerk gave her a tissue.

The handful of people in orange jumpsuits waiting for their turn watched from the same jury box where Boyd had been shackled months before.

In the gallery, Hornback sat wet-eyed and chewing a thumbnail, hunched to the point of hiding behind the bench in front of her.

"I'm going to stop your plea hearing today," Gardner told Boyd, dismissing the two attorneys.

Without much explanation, he ordered the parties to return in three weeks.

Boyd returned to her seat next to Hornback. With a nod, Glaus led them to the hall to explain what had just happened

"It's OK. It's OK," Glaus told Boyd, who still was visibly shaken.

He assured her she had done the right thing, trying to comply with the terms of the plea agreement and telling the truth. But because she'd been unable, under oath, to testify her actions had been an intentional attempt to cause harm, Gardner could not accept her plea.

If there was to be a plea deal, he explained, it would have to be for a more appropriate charge. If a deal could not be reached, they would have to go to trial. But either way, she would have to go home and wait.

Coming next: The Southeast Missourian will continue following Renee Boyd's case. She is scheduled to appear in court Monday.

tgraef@semissourian.com

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