Spector Trial Is In A Legal Quagmire

The murder trial of record producer, Phil Spector has turned into a predictable mess that has little to do about the death of Lana Clarkson or actual evidence that she was murdered or that Phil Spector is a killer.

Judge Larry Paul Fiddler let in everything including the kitchen sink to influence the jury exactly as the evidence starved prosecutors wanted to the absolutely prejudice of the accused. That as prosecutors, Pat Dixon and Alan Jackson spend every waking moment trashing the defendant’s character in every possible way. When prosecutors don’t have a case for murder, they can win by making the jury hate the defendant and pity the dead woman.

Adding to the circus is the defense team headed by the judicially castrated and now absent Bruce Cutler. I can’t help but believe that every single Spector defense lawyer now wishes he or she never went to law school. I suspect they also are praying to see the day they can pee on Larry Fidler’s tombstone.

Now the foremost defense forensic expert Henry Lee has apparently abandoned the job he was hired to do. Fear not, for there are enough qualified experts to show Clarkson died by her own hand.

Today the California Supreme Court dealt a blow to former Spectior defense lawyer, Sarah Caplan. She will be forced to testify or be jailed. I have suspected that Caplan lied in earlier proceedings and her lies will be exposed unless she now takes the Fifth to avoid self-incrimination. Spector may well benefit from whatever Caplan does next.

Today the jury saw and heard the very credible testimony from a long time close friend of Lana Clarkson, Jennifer Hayes-Riedl. Hayes-Riedl painted a sad and desperate picture of Clarkson’s tragic life. Clarkson was despondent because she failed as an entertainer and was forced into taking her humiliating, menial and par-minimum wage job at the House Of Blues.

Clarkson failed as an actress, comic and writer. Clarkson was mixing powerful narcotic painkillers with alcohol, was hopelessly in debt and nearly destitute. Although Clarkson was pretty, her life was not.

Clarkson got some fame that eluded her by ending her own life while a guest in Phil Spector’s home. One does not have to guess too long to figure why the CSI people found Lana Clarkson’s saliva on Phil Spector’s penis and Spector’s saliva was on her breast. Clarkson’s visit to Spector’s home may have been more about commerce than for traditional romance.

Before I hated this prosecution because I was convinced that Spector killed no one. Now I hate the prosecution equally because it forced the heartbreaking and salacious expose’ of Lana Clarkson’s once private life.

This trial is nothing but horrible and slow torture for Phil Spector and anyone who ever loved Lana Clarkson.