The families on the 10th floor of the courthouse had hoped for a speedy verdict.
Jurors three floors below deliberated. Shannon Dion paced outside the room where she had been waiting for more than three hours.
She’d tried to mentally prepare for the day she had anticipated for so many years but had never wanted to wake up to. Dion’s mother, Doris Gleason, was killed at the Tradition-Prestonwood independent living community in Dallas on Oct. 30, 2016. She always thought the jury would come back quickly, no matter its decision.
“It was a clear-cut and strong case, and we thought the jury would see that,” Dion said while the jury deliberated, “and here we are waiting.”
Now, families say they’re facing another emotional hurdle they never imagined: A lone holdout juror deadlocked a Dallas County jury Friday, forcing a mistrial.
Prosecutors said they will retry Billy Chemirmir, 48, in the death of 81-year-old Lu Thi Harris, found in her Dallas home on March 20, 2018. Her case is one of 18 indictments in an alleged killing spree from 2016 to 2018 at Dallas-area senior living communities and private homes where women were smothered, their jewelry stolen.
In addition to details about the Harris case, jurors also heard about attacks on Mary Brooks, 88, who died Jan. 31, 2018, and Mary Bartel, 91, who survived an attempted smothering the day before Harris died.
But Chemirmir has also been linked in police records, medical examiner reports and civil lawsuits to two dozen deaths in all.
With the courtroom at the Frank Crowley Courts Building closed due to COVID-19, the 10th floor was where the Dallas County District Attorney’s office had arranged a room for those families to watch the proceedings.
The families of Chemirmir’s alleged victims say the weeklong trial was like a journey — with high points and low points of frustration and confusion, of grief and exhaustion.
They’ve lived through the loss of mothers and grandmothers. They’ve harbored suspicions all the while, although they say no one would take them seriously. Then, years later, they had to come to terms with the truth: Police now believe their loved ones’ deaths were homicides, not heart attacks.
As the trial approached, they learned most of the death indictments will be dismissed after prosecutors secure a life-in-prison sentence for Chemirmir.
For some, Friday’s outcome is just another setback.
‘That’s her lips?’
MJ Jennings woke up at 4 a.m. in a downtown Dallas hotel after the first day of testimony. She lives in Far North Dallas, but had booked a room for the week so she could avoid traffic.
After spending all day Monday on the 10th floor, she wanted to be home. She wanted to be able to call her brother in Minnesota and her sister in Florida while she watched. She wanted to be in comfy clothes, on her comfy couch, with her fluffy labradoodle, Jake, nearby.
So after the sun rose, she packed her bag and called an Uber, arriving home just before testimony started. She poured coffee in a mug that used to belong to her mother. She pulled up a media livestream of the trial on a computer in her office.
In the courtroom, prosecutors showed photographs of Harris’ body and autopsy. Jennings sighed. The medical examiner who conducted the autopsy pointed out small burst blood vessels that indicated Harris was smothered.
But the medical examiner also testified that those burst blood vessels can be found in natural deaths, too. That’s why the deaths of so many — including Jennings’ mother, Leah Corken — were initially thought to be from natural causes.
When Jennings looked at the screen, she recognized the trauma.
“Mom had it,” Jennings said. “I thought that was just her falling on the rug.”
On the computer screen, lead prosecutor Glen Fitzmartin lifted up a pillow with colorful polka dots. Possibly the murder weapon, the medical examiner testified.
“Oh, that’s lipstick, isn’t it?” Jennings asked, pointing at a bright fuchsia stain. “That’s her lips?”
Jennings stood up and walked into another room, pulling out a black trash bag. Inside was a thick white pillow with a delicate satin pillowcase: the weapon she believes killed her mother.
“It’s heavy,” she said. “I wish I hadn’t washed it. I had no idea.”
She said police didn’t want it — too many people had handled it, it had been washed too many times in the years since her mother died. She held the pillowcase up to the light in an open window and revealed a stain.
Seeing Chemirmir
For years, Ellen House has wanted to see Chemirmir’s face. She wanted to see him in the courtroom. She wanted him to see her.
She had thought about that face for years, but after watching hours-long video of Chemirmir talking to a detective at the Dallas Police Department headquarters and seeing him on the TV livestream, she didn’t find him as intimidating as she once had.
“It was difficult to see him, even though we wanted to, for the first time,” said House, whose mother, Norma French, 85, was killed at the Tradition-Prestonwood in October 2016. “He doesn’t seem scary. But we know better.”
House said she wants to tell Chemirmir she would pray for him. That she hoped the Holy Spirit would convince him to confess.
On a break on the third day of testimony, she asked Diana Tannery, whose mother, Juanita Purdy, 83, was killed at the Tradition-Prestonwood in July 2016, what she would say if she were face-to-face with Chemirmir.
“I’d just talk about my mom,” said Tannery. Her mother didn’t get to see her grandchildren graduate or get married.
“I got breast cancer and I didn’t have my mom to hold me,” Tannery said. “You probably don’t even remember what she looks like.”
‘I had to get out’
Nearly a dozen of the families chatted with each other on the 10th floor as the jury began deliberations. Detectives and prosecutors joined them in the victims’ room to show support.
As the hours ticked on, they were anxious. What could be taking so long in that jury room?
At 7:45 p.m. Thursday, the jury wanted to break for the evening. A few minutes later, Dion and her family stormed out of the room, her face red as she shook her head in disbelief.
“I had to get out,” Dion said.
On Friday, the families came back to the courthouse. But soon it was clear the jury was not making progress. Within two hours, they had sent two notes to the judge saying that one juror would not change her stance.
Family members trickled out of the room, shaking their heads, exhausted and confused. They began thinking about what would happen if the jury failed to return a verdict.
“Time to declare mistrial, I think,” Dion said.
Just a few minutes later, the judge made it official. She told jurors she would declare a mistrial and dismissed them.
Outside the room on the 10th floor, a scrum of cameras and reporters waited. The group of families nominated House to read a statement on their behalf.
“This case represents my mother’s case and at least 24 other mothers,” House said. “We are encouraged that the prosecutors will try his case again and we are confident that the jury will convict. We’re all devastated by this.”
Chemirmir was led back to his cell in the Dallas County jail, where he’ll remain until he is tried — again.
