Killer Nurse Read Free Page B

they’d been through, and the families sat close together, bodies touching, black and white alike—maybe to garner some strength from the person next to them. Many of the family members of the victims sat with their arms wrapped around themselves almost in a protective cocoon, while others visibly trembled.
    Several of these family members said that going in, they didn’t know if Kimberly Saenz was guilty or innocent—they just wanted the truth of what happened to their loved one to come out. Some said that if she was found guilty, they hoped that she wouldn’t get the death penalty. Two family members pointed out that the rest of her life in prison would be much better because she’d have all that time to think about it—death was too easy. Other family members said that only God had the right to put someone to death. Several said that, either way, they would leave the verdict in the hands of God. He was the final judge, and He would impart unto the jury what they should do.
    With the family that Friday was Ms. Marie Bradley, one of the surviving victims. Alongside Ms. Bradley sat several ex-DaVita employees who’d also testified in the trial. Their attitude seemed to be, “We cared for your loved ones and we’ll stand by you now.”
    The tension inside the courtroom was as thick as the East Texas humidity. People sat rigid in their seats, most leaning forward—some rocking slightly. Every pair of eyes in the courtroom went to Kimberly Saenz as she entered, slumped slightly, her eyes red and swollen from crying—in stark contrast to her earlier appearance and demeanor throughout the trial. Most pictures taken by the paper or TV as the trial progressed had showed a woman laughing or smiling who appeared to be supremely confident she was about to be found not guilty.
    After Saenz collapsed in her seat, everyone rose when Judge Barry Bryan entered. With silver hair and beard with traces of gray showing through, the judge looked exactly as someone might picture a district judge to look like. The judge had the ability to be stern when needed, and even funny when appropriate. He took care of the jury, and the people who worked for him loved him. Everyone, even people who weren’t that fond of him, agreed on one thing—Judge Bryan was fair. What better recommendation can a judge receive?
    As Herrington said later, “I don’t always agree with his decisions, but I know that when he makes one, he has thought about it a lot.”
    However, on this day, moments before the jury was to enter and deliver the verdict, Judge Bryan was neither stern nor funny, but solemn. After a warning to the spectators on how to behave themselves when the six verdicts were read, he indicated for the bailiff to bring in the jury.
    It was easy to tell the newcomers to the courtroom—mostly media from out of town—because the ones who’d followed the trial knew to rise when the jury entered. In the Angelina County Courthouse, the spectators rose out of respect for the jury just as they did for the judge.
    As the twelve jurors and three alternates filed in, some were visibly shaking. The women had scared looks on their faces, and the men were somber. Two closed their eyes while the others stared at the judge—all avoided looking at the spectators in the court or the defendant. When the judge asked if the jury had come to a unanimous verdict, foreman Larry Walker’s voice cracked when he answered, “Yes, sir.” Once the bailiff handed the verdict sheet to the judge, most of the jurors turned their heads and faced Saenz, as if they wanted to show their solidarity in the verdict.
    The judge asked Saenz to rise, and she got to her feet on wobbly legs. At her side were defense attorney Ryan Deaton on one side and Steve Taylor, Saenz’s court-appointed defense attorney, on the other.
    What Kimberly Saenz’s life would be like after this, no one could say at that