The telltale strand of the victim's hair wasn't. It wasn't the
victim's.
The hair was the only significant physical evidence in the case
that sent Michael Rivera to Death Row 16 years ago. The jurors who
convicted Rivera were led to believe that blond hair found in a van
borrowed by Rivera had come from a strangled little girl.
So many years later, DNA testing proved otherwise.
Once again, doubts, like a pack of feral dogs, stalk the Broward
County criminal justice system.
Not that Michael Rivera makes an appealing model for the wrongly
convicted. He was, back in 1986, an appalling pervert, writhing with
repulsive sexual fantasies, with a conviction for attacking another
child. Nobody would have cared much if cops had jimmied the evidence
to send him to prison for the rest of his life. It's just that we
pretend to have higher standards before we kill our convicts.
Of course, other men wrongly convicted of murder in the 1980s by
the Broward Sheriff's Office's runaway homicide squad were also
unsavory characters. A bum rap fit both Frank Lee Smith and Jerry
Frank Townsend so nicely that judges and prosecutors, who should
have known better, ignored the emptiness of the evidence.
Meanwhile, the actual killer, a psychopath named Eddie Lee
Mosley, continued his serial murder spree.
Remember, somebody monstrous murdered 11-year-old Staci Jazvac in
1986. The state intends to execute Rivera for the crime. But
wouldn't it have been nice if the DNA had matched the prosecution
theory? Wouldn't it be nice if we were confident that the guy on
Death Row was Staci's actual killer?
Those blond hairs had buttressed the prosecution's contention
that Rivera had snatched Staci off the streets of Lauderdale Lakes,
forced her into a borrowed van, strangled her and dumped the body in
a field in Coral Springs.
DNA undid that premise. Of course the prosecution still has the
testimony of Frank Zuccarello, South Florida's most notorious
jailhouse snitch.
Zuccarello bartered 23 felony charges down to less than three
years in prison by providing key testimony in homicide cases, though
a BSO investigator in another case characterized him as ``an
untrustworthy witness who should not be believed under oath or
otherwise.''
Yet it was Zuccarello who delivered such dramatic testimony in
the 1987 trial, describing how Rivera, his cellmate in jail, had
admitted killing Staci. Wouldn't it be nice if the star witness in a
death penalty case possessed just a hair of credibility?
Rivera might have been convicted -- without the hair strands,
without Zuccarello and two other dubious jailhouse snitches -- just
on the murderous fantasies he had concocted and described to others
about Staci after the murder. Or by the incriminating statements
extracted from him during his interrogation by the BSO.
Except, in retrospect, the admissions seem too reminiscent of the
false confessions the BSO elicited in other, now discredited
homicide cases.
The flaws in the Rivera case are just too familiar. We'd like to
kill our Death Row convicts, even the most perverted, sure that
they're actual murderers.
But so many doubts stalk the conscience.