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was deal with Johnny Wayne Neal. The forensic psychiatrist I’d hired to examine him said Johnny Wayne was a narcissist, a pathological liar, and a sociopath, and those were his good qualities. He called Johnny Wayne an “irredeemable
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or not, Johnny Wayne was still my client. Johnny Wayne Neal had hired two of his thug buddies to murder his beautiful, heavily insured young wife. She woke up at 3:00
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year-old son, who’d been sleeping with his mother that night, crawled beneath the bed and listened to the sounds of his mother dying. It took the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation and the Johnson City Police Department less than a week to figure out who
seeking the death penalty. A heartless judge appointed me to defend him. The hourly rate was a hundred bucks, about the same as a small-time prostitute’s. The prosecutor had offered to take the death penalty off the
make sure he hadn’t changed his mind. Fifteen minutes after I sat down in the attorney’s room, Johnny Wayne, in a sharply creased, unwrinkled orange jumpsuit, was escorted in. He was handcuffed, waist-chained, and shackled around the ankles. “I wanted to make sure you’re still willing to take this deal before we go to court,” I said as soon as the uniformed escort stepped out and Johnny Wayne awkwardly made his way into
His face and arms were covered with tiny, pinkish freckles. He started tapping his fingers on the table, and I noticed that his nails looked recently manicured. He smelled of shampoo. “How do you manage to stay so well groomed in this place?”
his eyes. They were pale green, sometimes flecked with red depending on angle and light. They were closely set, and the left eye had a tendency to wander. It made looking him in the eye uncomfortable. I never knew quite where to focus. “The fact that I’m incarcerated doesn’t require me to live like an animal,” he said. “I’m able to procure certain services.”
he give you a manicure too?” I glanced at his fingernails. “I do that myself.” “Who does your laundry? All my other clients look like they sleep in their jail uniforms.” I could
purchase commissary products for an individual who treats my laundry with special care.” His speech was a tinny, nasal tenor, his diction perfect. I imagined shoving a turd into his mouth, just so he’d mispronounce a word. “Why are you so interested in my personal hygiene?” Johnny Wayne said. “Does it offend you?” “Nah,”
dozens of times. He’d run me and my investigator all over east Tennessee following false leads and locating bogus witnesses. He whined constantly. “So now that we have those incredibly important matters out of
Answering the question truthfully would have served no useful purpose, so I ignored it. “The deal is you plead guilty to first-degree murder. You agree to a sentence of life without the possibility of parole. You give up your right to appeal. In exchange, you get to live. No needle for Johnny Wayne. That’s it, sweet and simple.” He snorted.
blow job once in a while or spend the next fifteen years in isolation on death row, then die by lethal injection.” “But I’m innocent.” “Of course you are. Unfortunately, the evidence says otherwise.” “All circumstantial. Or lies.” “What about the cell phone records that match exactly with the
back.” The muscles in his jaw tightened. Johnny Wayne didn’t like discussing facts. “What about the four separate life insurance policies you took out on Laura over the past eighteen months? Three hundred and fifty grand, Johnny Wayne.” “Lots of people over-insure their spouses.” “Explain
insurance money.” “They’re trying to save themselves.” “If you didn’t hire them, why’d they do it? They didn’t even know her.” “Why? Why? Why are you asking me all these stupid questions?
Johnny Wayne, who talked freely about the murder and the money. The first time I played the tape for him his face turned an odd shade. “Listen to me,” I said. “Part of a lawyer’s job is to give his client good advice. And my advice is that the prosecution could bring
kill anyone,” he said. “Maybe not, but she’d be alive if it weren’t for you. The jury will hold you accountable.” “So I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life in prison for something I didn’t do.” “You
put this on me. I’m just giving you an honest opinion as to what I think the outcome will be. You should be thankful. Your mother- and father-in-law don’t believe in the death penalty any more than I do. They think if you’re convicted and sentenced to death, your blood will somehow be
Johnny Wayne, who lived in Jefferson City and was a part-time student, had made himself a fixture at the Baptist Student Union, a gathering place for students of the Baptist faith. It was there that he ran his con on Laura, convincing her that he held deep convictions about Christianity. James and Rita said they had concerns, but they trusted
smile. But the marriage began to show serious cracks soon after the wedding and steadily broke down. Not long after their third anniversary, Johnny Wayne left Laura for another woman and moved to North Carolina. He was in Charlotte at a bar with his newly pregnant girlfriend the night Laura was murdered. I looked at Johnny Wayne and envisioned my knuckles cracking into his teeth. It was an image I found soothing. “What’s it going to be?” I said. “I need an answer. We’re supposed
