Of course, all successful trial lawyers are actors to a degree. But Murdaugh was thespian enough to seduce even folks he knew well, when they were at their weakest, for his purposes. He did the same with family members and law partners. People throw around the word “narcissist” too much these days, but it’s a term you can’t overuse or exaggerate when it comes to Murdaugh.
Even the apologies he was allowed to deliver in court Tuesday — for too long — eventually worked around to himself. In one flourish of narcissistic jujitsu, he said it’s important to him that his victims know he cares deeply about them. What? The folks he addressed in the courtroom seemed to believe him, nodding and affirming what he said.
We had witnessed Murdaugh’s skills earlier this year during his trial for the 2021 murders of his youngest son, Paul Murdaugh, 22, and wife, Maggie Murdaugh, 52. The man can cry, or seem to, better than many Hollywood stars. On Tuesday, he appeared again before the long-suffering South Carolina Circuit Court Judge Clifton Newman, who had given him two consecutive life sentences for his two hastily decided murder convictions.
This time, Newman would sentence Murdaugh for a slew of financial crimes committed over decades. The hearing was largely pro forma since all parties had agreed to a plea deal in which Murdaugh admitted guilt to 22 of 101 charges in exchange for 27 years in state prison. He will have to serve 85 percent of this sentence, about 23 years, and forfeit his appellate rights.
Newman, who plans to retire at year’s end, accepted the terms. He congratulated the attorneys for a “good job” and jubilantly skipped out of the courtroom. Not really, but I half expected him to depart with a hint of dramatic flair. That’s not his style, but he has made clear that he has had enough of Murdaugh and, based on his earlier sentencing statement, wishes him worse than he got.
The tone of the financial sentencing hearing was comparatively solemn. A key difference is that, this time, Murdaugh’s victims are alive, if not especially well. Each took a turn speaking directly to Murdaugh, recounting how he gained their trust only to betray them. It was a parade of sorrow, broken hearts and, in some cases, forgiveness. He is undeserving of their grace, but then, they are better than he.
“He preyed on them like a wolf does a rabbit,” said Eric Bland, an attorney for the children of Gloria Satterfield, the longtime Murdaugh housekeeper, babysitter and friend. They weren’t victims, he said; they were prey. We’ve seen Murdaugh’s eyes when they narrow and lock on the object of his animus or desire. More fox than wolf, he can spot human weakness and frailty — and pounce.
Satterfield’s two adult sons were among those most in need of someone to trust when their mother died from injuries sustained in a fall at the Murdaugh family home. Murdaugh was a good enough lawyer to secure a $4.3 million settlement for the young men, but he was the worst kind of actor when he decided to keep it all for himself.
Tony Satterfield, though a slight man, was a powerful presence as he stared across the courtroom at Murdaugh and said, “You lied, you cheated, you stole, you betrayed me and my family and everybody else.” Even so, Satterfield said words I can’t imagine uttering under the circumstances. “I forgive you,” he told Murdaugh. “I will pray for you every day. …My heart is with you.”
Gloria Satterfield’s sister followed, expressing similar disbelief. “She loved Paul and Buster [the surviving Murdaugh son] as her own. She trusted and loved you. Do you not have a soul?”
A close friend of Murdaugh since childhood, Jordan “JJ” Jinks, broke down when he spoke. “I trusted you with everything … What kind of animal are you?” Jinks told Murdaugh, a hunting and fishing buddy since they were 8 years old, that when he first saw him on TV in the orange jumpsuit, “I still wasn’t mad at you … I didn’t believe it.” (That is, that he had committed the murders.)
“But after sitting here today and hearing some of the devious things you did to people, these victims here, that changed my mind, bro.”
The courtroom remained still throughout these brief addresses and afterward, when Murdaugh hauled his lanky, 6-foot-4 frame up from the chair and began his own statement. The judge, apparently feeling magnanimous with the exit door in sight, allowed one handcuff to be removed so Murdaugh could hold his notes. He was not made to stand in the “dock,” an enclosed area between the attorneys’ tables where his grandfather, a former 14th circuit solicitor, insisted defendants stand.
Thus began a lengthy series of apologies to victims spliced with recriminations and accusations aimed at the media, especially social media, and others who, Murdaugh said, had misrepresented and attacked his family. He apologized to nearly everyone in the room, it seemed, but he never apologized to Maggie and Paul. He maintains they were killed by someone else.
It’s a funny thing about the criminal narcissist. He can be so convincing that you want to believe him, against your better instincts. It’s hard for good people to understand evil and, truthfully, you’d rather not look it squarely in the eye.
In an odd gesture of — what, manipulation, psycho-triumphalism? — Murdaugh asked his old friend Jinks to visit him in prison so they could talk. In the hallway after adjournment, I asked Jinks if he’d make that visit. He said, yes, “If he sets it up, I’ll go.” I asked him if he thought Murdaugh’s apology was sincere. Jinks began, “I can see a con coming … ” but didn’t finish his thought.
Finally, I asked if he stood by his earlier statement that he now believes Murdaugh murdered his wife and son. Jinks faltered for a few moments, trying to find an opinion among his sorrows. He settled with, “I’m on the fence.”
As I said, Murdaugh is quite an actor.
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