Jeff Kyle's Warfighters Foundation Lied About Eddie Ray Routh in Articles Published During the Trial

'American Sniper' suspect's ex-comrades mourn man they knew

February 22, 2015

The Associated Press - For those who served with Eddie Ray Routh in the Iraqi desert, the man on trial for gunning down the famed "American Sniper" Chris Kyle and a friend is not the Marine they had come to know.

"The Routh I knew looked up to people who did that kind of job," said former Cpl. Ryker Pawloski. "He respected war fighters like you wouldn't believe." 

"It just doesn't fathom," agreed Corey Smalley, who shared a metal trailer with Routh at Camp Fallujah. "He wasn't the picture-perfect Marine, even though that's what he wanted to be. And the people he looked up to the most were people like Chris Kyle. He always wanted to be those people - be the people that Marines from now on will always be talking about."

Routh achieved that - but not the way he'd hoped.

The 27-year-old stands charged with capital murder in the Feb. 2, 2013, slayings of the former Navy SEAL and his friend, Chad Littlefield. Kyle, who by his own count made more than 300 kills, volunteered with veterans facing mental health problems. Kyle and Littlefield took Routh to a shooting range after his mother asked Kyle to help her son cope with post-traumatic stress disorder and other personal demons.

Routh's attorney, Tim Moore, read a text message during the trial in which Kyle described Routh as "straight-up nuts." Family members have testified that Routh came back from his military service a changed man. He was hospitalized multiple times for mental health issues and had trouble keeping a job.

"I noticed that he kind of lost his desire for life," his uncle, James Watson testified.

Moore said that when Routh killed Kyle and Littlefield "he was in the grip of a psychosis" so severe he didn't know it was wrong and thought "it was either him or them."

Erath County District Attorney Alan Nash described Routh as "a troubled young man," but said mental illnesses "don't deprive people from being good citizens, to know right from wrong."

After the killings, Routh's parents described a young man haunted by what he'd seen in Iraq and earthquake-ravaged Haiti, and who sought relief at the bottom of a bottle. Many combat veterans say Routh exaggerated his experiences, and scoff at the notion that he saw anything that would cause PTSD.

Men who served with "Routhy" in Combat Logistics Battalion 8 at Camp Fallujah in 2007-2008 concede he had a drinking problem, even before Iraq. And they don't recall their unit suffering anything overly traumatic.

But they say something must have happened to turn Routh from a gung-ho Marine into an alleged double killer.

Why Eddie Ray Routh Didn't Get a Fair Trial

By Hailey Foglio
February 9, 2015

Note before you read: This post is not intended to be a discussion about the life or death of Chris Kyle. This post is about Eddie Ray Routh.

For those of you who don’t know, Eddie Ray Routh is on trial for killing Chris Kyle, an American Navy SEAL who is being lauded as a true “American hero” as “the most lethal sniper in U.S. military history.”

Like I said, we’re not going to get into the rhetoric of the phrase “American hero” or any similar territory. What we’re going to get into is the seriously problematic fact that Eddie Ray Routh will not get a fair trial.

We all know that Eddie Ray Routh did kill Chris Kyle; no one is disputing that fact. But even someone who is guilty of a crime deserves a fair trial in front of an unbiased jury in a community that is not collectively fighting to destroy him. That’s what the justice system is. Or rather, what it’s supposed to be.

You might be thinking to yourself, “If he’s guilty, why does it matter how the court goes about coming to that conclusion? What’s the difference between a fair or an unfair trial when we all know he did it?”

I think this is a question that a lot of people consider when it comes to situations like this, and that’s part of the problem. Trials are not there only to determine guilt, but also to determine length of sentencing, location that the convicted individual will serve his time (eg. prison v. mental facility), etc.

The fact is, Eddie Ray Routh will not get a fair trial. And here’s my three-part explanation for why:

1. PTSD.

By and large, mentally ill individuals on trial are destined for an unfair trial. There’s no kind or politically correct way to say that. If you commit a crime and you have a mental illness, odds are that that fact is going to work against you in a big way. The reason for this is that, as I’ve said in past posts, people don’t (and don’t want to) understand mental illness.

When people look at Eddie Ray Routh, all they see is “that crazy guy who shot that truly honorable American hero.” In this way, everyone from jurors in the courtroom to media outlets across the nation begin the slow process of villainizing the mentally ill. 

 In fact, there is so much controversy over Eddie Ray Routh’s PTSD that independent groups of veterans (one, in particular) are actually going out of their way to prove that Eddie Ray Routh did not have PTSD. To do so, they’re coming up with, well, let’s just call them “alternative theories.” 

Here’s an excerpt from an article from Truth Revolt. This article draws on comments made by The Warfighter Foundation, who stated:

“Eddie Routh served one tour in Iraq in 2007, at Balad Air Base (the 2nd largest U.S. installation in Iraq), with no significant events. No combat experience. Let me say that again, he NEVER SAW COMBAT or any aspect of traumatic events associated with a combat deployment (i.e. incoming mortar or rocket fire). He never left the base, EVER.”

This, of course, is inferring that you can’t have PTSD if you don’t hold a gun and/or get shot at, which is fundamentally untrue. The most concerning thing in the article, however, is this:

“Walid Shoebat, a former radicalized Muslim terrorist and member of the PLO who has since converted to Christianity, believes that because of his past and credentials, he is confident in his deduction that Eddie Routh was in fact becoming a radical Muslim, although there is no proof yet of the conversion.

‘During a phone call with his father, Routh expressed sympathy for the detainees and discontent over how the US was conducting the war as well as his reluctance to engage in combat’ and ‘While working as a guard at Balad Air Base, Routh laments his [Muslim] prisoners’ poor living conditions.'”

While they assert at first that Eddie Ray Routh couldn’t have possibly had any experience whatsoever to cause him PTSD, he was obviously involved in some capacity with detainees, enough to form significant opinions about their living conditions.

The bigger issue at play here is that somehow, because Eddie Ray Routh “expressed sympathy” and lamented the prisoners’ living conditions, he’s less of a soldier or less of a hero or even less of a person, and that that sympathy somehow began transforming him into a “radical Muslim.”

What I’m trying to point out here is that people will do and say whatever is necessary to pull any discussion of mental illness away from the courtroom conversation. Many people view mental illness and insanity pleas as cop-outs, and somehow, even the mention of a mental illness-related crime fuels the flames of denial and unrest.

But the ability to address and discuss Eddie Ray Routh’s PTSD is integral to the trial, and already there are people trying to throw that discussion out the window.

2. A soldier was killed.

The United States puts a lot of stock in its military. So much so that it results in a national sense of hero worship. Thus, when one of our “heroes” is killed or taken away in some other capacity, it’s seen as a national tragedy.

In many articles, you’ll see Eddie Ray Routh referred to as a “terrorist” or a “Muslim-sympathizer” or something similar, though there’s no evidence to support the claim that he had any terrorist intents to begin with, and the term “Muslim-sympathizer” is highly problematic in its own right.

In fact, reactions against the killing of Chris Kyle have become so severe that they’re bordering on dangerous. After tweeting about Chris Kyle’s questionable comments in his autobiography, journalist Rania Khalek began receiving horrific feedback, a demonstration of the increasing xenophobic tendencies that are beginning to take root in this country. An example:

“@RaniaKhalek Move your American hating ass to Iraq, let ISIS rape you then cut your head off, fucking media whore Muslim #AmericanSniper”

Then, this same person tweeted:

“Dear #ISIS please kidnap @RaniaKhalek and cut her head off, after you and all your camels fuck her #AmericanSniper #ChrisKyle”

There are hundreds of these comments on twitter, Facebook, online media outlets, etc. Somehow, Chris Kyle’s death and the impending Eddie Ray Routh trial has created a hurricane of hatred-fueled vitriol to permeate through the nation. Because Chris Kyle was a soldier, his death has resulted in a national us vs. them debate, with citizens being forced to pledge their allegiance to the American military or risk being attacked. For these people, Eddie Ray Routh typifies the “enemy,” and they have no plans to consider the matter from any angle other than Eddie Ray Routh = dead American hero.

This insurgence of hatred and violence will prove to be inseparable from the Eddie Ray Routh trial, as members of the jury will have this national commentary playing in the back of their minds.

3. American Sniper.

In 2012, Chris Kyle wrote an autobiography titled American Sniper: The Autobiography of the most Lethal Sniper in U.S. Military History. Clint Eastwood adapted the book into a feature-length film called American Sniper, starring Bradley Cooper as Chris Kyle. Now, I don’t think that Clint Eastwood intended for what happened after the film’s release to happen. From everything I’ve researched about him in relation to this film, it seems like the film was intended to be a shades of gray film, attempting to show the true non-black and white nature of war and the military and what it’s like to be a soldier.

Here are a couple twitter reactions to the film:

“Nice to see a movie where the Arabs are portrayed for who they really are — vermin scum intent on destroying us #Deblasio #AmericanSniper”

“I wish I weren’t too old and fat to go shoot some ragheads. Hoorah! #AmericanSniper”

The problem with American Sniper, whether intended or not, is that it seems to have somehow glorified the military, being a sniper, killing the “enemy,” etc. That’s what audiences are picking up on. The issue with these reactions is, of course, the same as the reactions to Rania Khalek’s comments on Chris Kyle’s life and autobiography.

The bigger problem with the film, in terms of the trial, is that it was released on January 16, 2015. Eddie Ray Routh’s trial starts on February 11, 2015. This film was released less than a month before Eddie Ray Routh has to go to court. Not to sound conspiracy theory-ish, but no, I don’t think that was a coincidence. Do I think Clint Eastwood had anything to do with that? No. Do I think that someone involved in the release of this film saw the opportunity to capitalize on the impact it was certain to have? Yes. I do.

 

If the American public managed to accept the fact that Chris Kyle had PTSD, if the American public somehow saw past the hero worship phenomenon surrounding Chris Kyle’s life and death, this film still would have ruined the entire trial.

Long story short: Eddie Ray Routh doesn’t have a shot in hell at getting a fair trial. And that’s a problem.

Current music: None.



By Nightline (click link for video)
February 25, 2015

A defense attorney for Eddie Ray Routh, who was convicted of capital murder in the “American Sniper” trial, said the fact that some jurors had seen the movie did not hurt their case.

The movie “American Sniper,” which was up for six Oscars this past weekend, including Best Picture, is based on the memoir of famed Navy SEAL Chris Kyle, the most lethal sniper in U.S. military history.

A Texas jury of 10 women and two men found Routh guilty Tuesday of killing Kyle and Kyle’s friend Chad Littlefield during a trip to a gun range Feb. 2, 2013. After the verdict, it was revealed that several members of the jury saw the movie before being selected to serve on the trial, but they maintained it did not interfere with their ability to fairly judge Routh. 

Attorney Shay Isham, who was part of the team that defended Routh, said in an interview with ABC News’ "Nightline" that there were concerns about selecting jurors for the highly publicized case, but they didn't see the movie as a reason to dismiss them.

“I’ve been picking juries here for 19 years and in a whole lot of other counties, too. Just because someone has seen the movie doesn't automatically disqualify them,” Isham said. “Most of the people that can do that job and can take an oath to not be leaning one way or the other, and wait until the evidence is finished to make up their mind and deliberate the case; most of them that tell me that, they can set that aside.” 

“There wasn't very many jurors dismissed because of too much pretrial publicity because they've seen so much or read so much that they already had their mind made up,” he added. "You get 10 strikes in a criminal case in the state of Texas and so there’s a whole bunch of things that go into whether you want to exercise one of those precious few strikes that you have."

Routh had pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity and his attorneys had argued the former Marine had mental disorders and was in the grips of psychosis when he fatally shot Kyle and Littlefield.

Because Routh’s lawyers never disputed he killed the two men, the biggest question the jurors had to answer was whether they thought he was legally insane or whether he was faking his claims of insanity.

Seven members of the 12-person jury spoke to ABC News today about how they came to the unanimous decision after two and a half hours Tuesday night.

"That was something that we really had to figure out," juror Kristina Yager told ABC News. "In the beginning, I know a lot of us came into the jury questioning that, but evidence shows that there was a real definite pattern there." 

"When I say there’s a pattern that we saw, he would get intoxicated, get in trouble, and then the police would show up and he would say ‘I'm a veteran, I have PTSD, I'm insane,’ you know, and every time something bad happened he pulled that card," Yager said.

Routh’s mental state was at the crux of the case, with both sides presenting experts who disputed different diagnoses up until the final hours of the trial.

While calling rebuttal witnesses to the stand Tuesday, the defense also re-called Dr. Mitchell Dunn, the psychiatrist who concluded Routh was insane in earlier testimony.

Isham, Routh’s attorney, said he doesn't second-guess using the insanity defense for Routh.

“I don’t think it was a gamble that the insanity defense was what we provided,” he said. “[It was] the most viable defensive theory because of his trips to the [Veterans Affairs] mental hospital and Green Oaks mental hospital, and the diagnosis of schizophrenia. There were other experts also that thought he was legally insane.”

And Isham added that PTSD was “never a part of the defense strategy.”

“Mental illness was what he was diagnosed with, mental illness was what he went to the hospital for,” he said.

Routh was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole, but Isham said he expects an appeal to be filed in this case.

Related:

• 'American Sniper' Trial: Why Jurors Who Saw the Movie Were Still Picked
• 'American Sniper' Trial: What Evidence Convinced the Jury to Convict Eddie Ray Routh

First Hand Account of Eddie Ray Routh's Murder Trial

My Week at the 'American Sniper' Trial: Chris Kyle, Two Deaths and a Texas Town’s Search for Truth'

It's a long way from the Oscars, and no sign of Bradley Cooper. But "American Sniper" is the story nevertheless

By Bradford Pearson, Salon
February 24, 2015

 
A sign displaying support for the families of Chris Kyle and Chad Littlefield, Feb. 10, 2015, in Stephenville, Texas. (Credit: AP/Lm Otero)

Kenny Weldon is a rangy man, with limbs in perfect balance as he walks. His close-cropped hair has grayed, but not retreated, and he speaks in full, complete thoughts without breaking eye contact. His favorite movies include “Gettysburg” and “The Cowboys,” the 1972 flick where John Wayne trained a bunch of children to become cowboys.

Weldon grew up in Stephenville, Texas, a rural, 19,000-person city that considers itself the “Cowboy Capital of the World.” (Several other communities have also bestowed this crown upon themselves; there seems to be no international governing body that rules on such matters.) He lettered in football, baseball and basketball, and served as the National Honor Society president. In 1981 he left for the Air Force Academy, and a career that would take him to Korea, Hawaii and the Pentagon.

In 2011, he retired, packed up his family, and headed back to Stephenville. Then he was asked to run for mayor.

“When you’re in the military you realize it’s a calling to serve others, especially in our country,” Weldon says from Stephenville City Hall. “So for me, it was a way to come home and continue that service to others, and take a lot of what I had learned in my professional career and apply it to my hometown. You gain all these experiences in different professional settings, and apply it to the betterment of the community.”

The city is home to the Donald R. Jones Justice Center, right off the small, quiet square. And inside the center—across from the public notice for the Texas Boll Weevil Eradication Program, and down the block from the monument to the 1997 National Champion Erath County Dairy Judging Team—sits Eddie Ray Routh, the man accused of murdering U.S. Navy SEAL Chris Kyle and his friend, Chad Littlefield.

On Feb. 2, 2013, Kyle, Littlefield and Routh headed to Rough Creek Lodge, a high-end hunting resort and spa 30 miles east of Stephenville. It’s there that Routh—suffering from PTSD and schizophrenia—shot Kyle and Littlefield dead. Afterward, Routh stole Kyle’s truck, drove to his sister’s house, admitted to the murders, and told his sister “people were sucking his soul,” prosecutors say.

The trial began on Feb. 11, turning the town square into a media hub, all satellite trucks and little white tents and cordoned-off streets. Two blocks off the square, though, it’s impossible to tell there’s a capital murder trial in town. Traffic is slow and (as usual) truck-heavy, the sidewalks are empty, and shop owners sit alone at their counters. At Frames Etc—the “etc” stands mostly for a medium-size used bookstore, and some wooden crosses—owners George and Kathy Wooley sat building a set of shelves, while an Ash Wednesday-ashed clerk stocked books.

Customers have slowed to a trickle since the trial started—“folks are avoiding the square,” George says—so much so that one employee asked if the store was going to shut down until the verdict. Before the trial, the shop had a hard time keeping Kyle’s best-selling “American Sniper” on the shelves. A used copy would come in, then be gone before a second could even be stocked.

After Kyle’s murder, a new customer walked into the shop: Deby Lynn, Kyle’s mother. She arrived holding a portrait of her son, painted by local Tarleton State student Blu Dornan. It’s the familiar shot of Kyle—black Craft International hat, taut mouth, beard— with an American flag in the background. And it needed a frame.
After she picked up the project—which went on display at the school, which also sits in Stephenville—the entire shop cried.

“Wasn’t a dry eye in the shop,” Kathy says.

On the outskirts of town, a sign for Chick Elms Rodeo Shop and Grand Entry Western Store reminds folks to order their Chris Kyle hats. At the front desk, a college-age clerk explains that the shop initially just ordered 12, then had to order another 100, then another 200. Behind the counter, she pulls up the order online, and shows the goods. The HOOey hats come in two designs: light tan camo, and one with alternating black and green camo panels. Each are emblazoned with the skull logo of Kyle’s tactical-training company, Craft International, and the HOOey emblem, an energetic stick figure (and all-around unfortunate juxtaposition on a hat honoring a dead soldier). On the underside of the brim, an American flag and a Kyle quote: “It’s our duty to serve those who serve us.”

They sell for $36.

In the back of the shop, a cowboy-hatted Chick Elms works on the soles of a pair of black slip-on dress shoes. He’s shaving the sides to even out the right and the left, and Randy Travis’ “Forever and Ever, Amen” drifts over the country radio. He’s surrounded by boots, shoes and saddles, and the workshop smells of leather and cleaning products. A friend sits in the workshop in a Carhartt jacket with a lip full of dip. It’s the textbook ideal of manliness.

Elms explains that the trial’s been somewhat forced onto the town. That’s not a complaint, he says, just reality. People from all over have visited Stephenville since the trial started, including one couple from Tennessee who found their way to Chick’s doorstep.

“They used the excuse that they were in town to see Dwight Yoakam in Fort Worth, but…” Elms cocks his head during the last part of the sentence. His shop is 84 miles from where Yoakam played on Valentine’s Day.

One of his sons just deployed as a helicopter pilot in the Air Force, while another son was injured during battle in Afghanistan. The latter son has kept up with Chris Kyle’s career, read the book, seen the movie. Elms hasn’t read the book, but gets excited when he remembers the grip on his 1911 pistol. He heads to the drawer where he keeps his holstered gun, and unclips it enough to expose the familiar Craft International skull. He has four more sets of them at home.

“[The trial’s] costing a lot of money, money that could’ve gone to schools or roads,” he says. “But I guess it’s a necessity. And of course I’d rather those guys still be here.”

Elsewhere in town, the reminders continue. Outside Grumps Burgers, a sign reads “We Support the Kyle and Littlefield Families.” Near Tarleton State, a billiards hall’s sign flashes “God Bless Chris & Chad…Freedom Is Not Free,” then rotates and reminds students of drink specials and karaoke night. The residents are a typical small-town mix of gregarious but wary. (At City Hall, the front desk clerk happily handed out the mayor’s cellphone number, and the home numbers of each member of the city council are on the city’s website. Near the public restroom, a spreadsheet of city staffers’ favorite cakes is tacked to a cork board. The staffer responsible for baking that cake on the employee’s birthday is the final column.) At the local branch of Disabled American Veterans—a nonprofit that helps veterans receive the medical benefits they deserve—one vet waved off questions, while staffers happily conversed.

“Judge Cashon is a very fair man,” says Veronica Woodward. “When the gavel goes down the last time, justice will be served.” She then doled out restaurant and bar recommendations, unprompted.

Attorneys for Routh tried to have the venue moved, citing all of the usual concerns that come with a jury pool drawn from a small town: Everyone knows everyone, from the victim to the judge. The community was too entangled in the case, the lore (and lure) of Kyle’s life, his death in their county. It’s the kind of community where a slain soldier’s mother takes a portrait of her son to be framed, a three-minute walk away from where his killer would later be tried.

But Judge Jason Cashon disagreed, noting that more than two dozen potential jurors had been dismissed due to their knowledge of the trial.

“A part of the American way of life includes our justice system, which is not perfect, but is the best in the world,” reads a statement from the Kyle family to the Los Angeles Times. “The family has the utmost confidence that a fair and just verdict will result from the upcoming murder trial.”

Back at City Hall, Weldon’s trying to find a room to chat. He doesn’t have his own office in the building; those are reserved for staffers. The conference room is full, and a second option is stacked with boxes. A community services staffer offers to give up his office. After some polite back and forth, the mayor agrees.
Weldon has spent the last months coordinating the Kyle trial: abiding by Cashon’s needs and desires; working with city, county and state departments; ensuring the safety of witnesses, jurors, family members and media. The total bill comes to about $1 million. The efficacy of having bomb-sniffing dogs was proven in late January, when a man contacted the Stephenville Empire-Tribune, telling the newspaper’s managing editor that a bomb would go off during jury selection.

“You always plan for the worst, and hope for the best,” Weldon says, his square-toed cowboy boots hooked together under the table. “It was good to see that play out as well as it did.”

The day before the trial began, Stephenville lost one of its most popular residents, a Japanese-American man by the name of Mike Masuda. During World War II, he and his family were interned along with more than 8,000 others in Jerome, Arkansas, and he later joined the Army, serving as an interpreter for the Military Intelligence Service. The poultry business brought him to Stephenville where, in his retirement, he helped gather and bag old American flags. Every month, at the Turnbow-Higgs American Legion Post 240, he would stand, salute the flag and report on his flag gathering. Upon his death, no less than four remembrances were published in the Empire-Tribune.

Weldon speaks elegiacally about Masuda, a man he’s known since childhood, right here in Stephenville. You could not find a friendlier person, he says, a more loving person. In a city full of cowboys and heroes, in a borrowed office, Weldon sits, thinking about Masuda’s memorial service later that week, preparing for what he’d likely be asked to say.

This is why Kenny Weldon, the keeper of the town’s heroes, was called back home.

Stephenville ready to get back to normal after ‘American Sniper’ trial

The Dallas Morning News
February 14, 2015

The folks who live in this self-proclaimed Cowboy Capital of the World about 100 miles southwest of Dallas say they accept that their town is playing host to one of the nation’s most-watched trials.

They really do want to be good hosts.

But less than a week after the start of the capital murder trial of Eddie Ray Routh, who is accused of gunning down famed ex-Navy SEAL Chris Kyle and Kyle’s best friend, Chad Littlefield, residents here say they’re ready to move on.

“Nobody would want a trial of this nature to be in their community, but we also saw it as an opportunity for us to help,” said Mayor Kenny Weldon. “My hope is that people will remember us as a community that was able to work through this in a very positive way.”

But, said Weldon:

“We’re looking forward to things getting back to normal.”

County officials have set aside about $1 million for security and media accommodations for the trial, which has drawn dozens of reporters to Stephenville, closing downtown streets and clogging parking spaces.

The trial, which started Wednesday and continues Monday, also has given the town of nearly 19,000 the chance to prove it can handle a bigger event.

Local, state and federal law enforcement officers pack the courthouse — along with a large German shepherd “security dog” in case a fight breaks out — to screen everyone entering.

Erath County officials tightened the budget to set aside enough money to pay for extra security measures, metal detectors and power outlets installed for media inside the courthouse.

“We’ve had time to prepare for that. It’s not like a bill we got when the trial is over,” Weldon said. “That’s not to say it’s not a burden. Nobody has a million dollars laying around, but we’ve prepared in a frugal way.”

All the attention

Big crowds usually mean bigger profits, but business has slowed for some shops near the courthouse. Many residents are avoiding the area until the trial ends.

“The circus is set up outside,” said a man playing cards at the senior center, gesturing toward the parking lot where media trucks were stationed all week.

“Don’t bring that trial in here,” said another woman at the center, less than a block from the Erath County courthouse.

Kaylee Pimberton said Thursday that she had to park a block away to get to her Western furniture shop downtown, Blue-Eyed Buffalo. “That’s out of the norm for us,” she said.

But, Pimberton said, it’s a tiny nuisance compared to what it might’ve been.

“It could’ve been chaotic and crazy, and that makes you kind of proud that our little town can pull together and handle something like this,” she said.

And, Pimberton said, she gets a kick out of the attention.

“I turned on the Today show and there we are. Matt Lauer just said Stephenville,” she said.
But many said they hope that the trial won’t become the town’s lasting legacy.

Stephenville is also home to Tarleton State University, which has one of the top rodeo programs in the country. And the area draws horse lovers from across the country.

Lone Star Arena, also affectionately called the Buck N Duck, is hosting the World Series of Team Roping beginning Friday. The city expects thousands for the event, far more than came for the trial.

“We would prefer to have national attention for a different reason, but we feel like those who have the opportunity to visit here see our friendly hospitality,” said July Danley, president of the Chamber of Commerce.

Danley said she likes to see visitors “get away from the big city and enjoy a little different pace of life.”

Texas hospitality

The people of Stephenville take pride in their Texas hospitality.

“When somebody says, ‘Hi. How are you doing?’ they mean it,” Weldon said. “You may not get that in a large metropolitan area.”

The town is growing, but as it does, most residents say they don’t want Stephenville to lose its friendly attitude.

“I love the small-town feel,” said Sarah McEnroe, a senior criminal justice major at Tarleton. “It’s a great community. We’re all close-knit.”

Jeri Martin grew up in Stephenville but lived in San Francisco for about 15 years. She moved back five years ago to get away from the hectic pace of a big city.

“It’s still a nice, quiet little town, not too much traffic,” Martin said of Stephenville. “You complain if you get stuck at a red light for five seconds.”

Even the mayor, who was in the U.S. Air Force for more than two decades, rushed back at his first chance.

“I, for 26 years, was waiting to come home,” Weldon said.

As the city becomes more developed, elected officials work to maintain its appeal. They are updating the city’s economic development plan to draw more businesses to town, which boasts many small and family-owned shops.

Developers have already updated several older buildings along the square where the historic county courthouse sits. An old saloon was transformed into Greer’s restaurant last fall. A new restaurant, Ruby’s Texas Bistro, is set to open nearby next month.

By then, townspeople hope, the Routh trial and the media hordes following it will have skedaddled. And ranching, not network television interviews, will take center stage once again.

“Our goal out of all of this is to keep Stephenville, Stephenville,” Weldon said. “We don’t want to change who we are.”

Eddie Ray Routh Deprived of His Right to a Fair Trial

‘American Sniper’ Trial Sets Town on Edge

New York Times
February 9, 2015

The trial of the man charged with killing Chris Kyle, a former sniper for the Navy SEALs, is scheduled to open here on Wednesday at 9 a.m. The blockbuster war movie about Mr. Kyle, “American Sniper,” now playing at Cinemark Cinema 6 three miles from the courtroom, will be showing at 3:40 p.m., 7 p.m. and 10:20 p.m.

But aside from the questions about the legal proceedings, something more than a double-murder trial is set to play out here this week. “American Sniper” has become a cultural moment far beyond the reach of the book, the movie or the criminal case against Mr. Routh. And just as the movie has been debated for what it says about war and warriors, the trial will dissect what war did to and for two men — one of them hailed, particularly in Texas, as an American hero, the other a fellow soldier on trial for two murders that people here are still trying to comprehend two years later.

Mr. Kyle’s celebrity hangs over the trial and the town, larger in death than it was in life. The sign outside the Grand Entry Western Store advertises Chris Kyle baseball caps for sale. More ominously, a man called the local newspaper, The Stephenville Empire-Tribune, and told the managing editor that a bomb was going to go off before jury selection. Officials have earmarked $1 million for security in and around the Donald R. Jones Justice Center, where the trial will be held. On the first day of the juror qualification process last week, the judge excused 39 potential jurors, including 12 who said the pretrial publicity made them biased about the case.

“The death happening here, that makes it more personal,” said Chick Elms, 68, a co-owner of the Grand Entry, a Western wear shop. “They’re not seeking the death penalty, which I think is hogwash.”

Mr. Routh’s lawyers, Warren St. John and Tim Moore, have included the movie and the local support for Mr. Kyle in their legal case, asking the judge to postpone the trial. They cited the popularity of the movie, its release in local theaters, the bomb threat and Gov. Greg Abbott’s decision to declare Monday last week, the two-year anniversary of Mr. Kyle’s death, Chris Kyle Day in Texas.

The judge, Jason Cashon of Erath County District Court, denied their request. Mr. Routh’s lawyers also asked the judge to move the proceedings out of Erath County, describing “so great a prejudice” against their client that he could not get a fair trial.

Judge Cashon turned down that motion as well, but it was clear last week as prospective jurors crowded the courtroom that he had concerns about the publicity surrounding the case.

“Stay away from it,” he told them bluntly.

A pool of about 240 qualified for jury selection. Prosecutors and defense lawyers questioned many of them Monday before a jury of 10 women and two men, plus two alternates, was sworn in. One prospective juror was dismissed for discussing the case with a reporter for The Independent, a British newspaper.

Mr. Kyle, who became the military’s deadliest sniper while protecting Marines in Iraq, took Mr. Routh to the range on Feb. 2, 2013. Mr. Kyle often used trips to the range as a form of therapy for wounded and troubled veterans. Once there, Mr. Routh turned his handgun on Mr. Kyle, 38, and Mr. Kyle’s friend, Chad Littlefield, 35, and then fled in Mr. Kyle’s truck, the authorities said.

Mr. Routh has pleaded not guilty, and his lawyers have told the judge that they planned to raise an insanity defense. Mr. Routh, a Marine veteran who served in Iraq, told the authorities in the months before the shooting that he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

Proceeds from cap sales go to the American Valor Foundation. Credit Brandon Thibodeaux for The New York Times

Amid tight security that included bomb-sniffing dogs, a lawyer with the Texas Attorney General’s Office, who is assisting the Erath County district attorney in prosecuting the case, told prospective jurors about the legal parameters of an insanity defense.

“One in five people have some kind of mental health problem,” said the assistant attorney general, Jane Starnes. “There is a big spectrum of mental health disorders. What the law doesn’t say is that everybody with a mental illness gets a free pass to commit a crime.”

The trial, expected to last two weeks, will unfold in a criminal-justice building near the courthouse square and the life-size statue of Moo-La, a plastic cow celebrating the county’s status, in 1972, as the state’s top milk producer. Long before joining the Navy, Mr. Kyle had attended Tarleton State University here, the biggest employer in a town of nearly 19,000.

Chick Elms, co-owner of the Grand Entry, a Western wear shop in Stephenville that sells Chris Kyle baseball caps.

“We’ve never had anything like this in this town,” said Carol Gibson, 64, the owner of the Rockin’ P Bar and Grill across from the courthouse. “When it first happened, everybody was talking about it. Then it calmed down. Now the movie’s come out, the trial’s getting closer, and the talk is back up about it again.”

The movie has only heightened Mr. Kyle’s stature in Texas. His memorial service was held at Cowboys Stadium in Arlington, his coffin, draped with flag, resting on the giant blue star at the 50-yard line. He was buried in Austin at the Texas State Cemetery, alongside former Texas governors and senators. Many of the county residents who received the 800 juror summonses that officials mailed out have seen the film, although Judge Cashon told them that having watched “American Sniper” did not automatically disqualify them.

“If ever there were grounds for an out-of-state change of venue, this has to be the case,” said Brock Hunter, a Minneapolis lawyer who is an expert on defending veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder in criminal cases. “The tough-minded Texas culture would make it difficult enough, but this veteran has the additional burden of having killed a bona fide Texas hero.”

Other lawyers disagreed.

“I’m not sure that knowing who the victim is, or having an opinion about the victim, necessarily means that the accused can or cannot get a fair trial,” said Anthony G. Buzbee, a Houston trial lawyer who handles high-profile cases, including defending former Gov. Rick Perry in his criminal case. “Setting aside the movie or the book, what Chris Kyle was about and the fact that he was trying to assist the accused at the time of the alleged crime will make it a difficult case to defend no matter where it is tried. But that is just the facts of the case that create that difficulty, not a movie or venue.”

Hours after his arrest, Mr. Routh confessed to the murders in an interview with the authorities that was videotaped and later played at a pretrial hearing. Mr. Routh told a Texas Ranger, Danny L. Briley, that he was struggling with unnamed forces “eating at his soul,” and rambled at times about pigs and “talking to the wolf, the one in the sky.”

Mr. Routh said that neither Mr. Kyle nor Mr. Littlefield had known he was going to shoot them, and that the one he had shot first was “the one I could clearly identify,” referring to Mr. Kyle.

“I knew if I did not take his soul, he was going to take mine,” he said.

Concerns of a Fair Trail in the American Sniper Murder Trial

By Nicholas H. Esser, University of Miami School of Law
February 25, 2015

Known widely for the popular movie American Sniper, one of history’s most deadly snipers and American Hero Chris Kyle had his life taken too soon. There is no question that Chris Kyle was murdered along with his neighbor and friend Chad Littlefield. There is little question that the man who ended those lives was fellow veteran Eddie Routh. The only question that remains is whether Routh, whom appears to suffer from PTSD, can be relieved of guilt via the insanity defense. Thus, concerns that an impartial jury cannot be found may not matter as much as some make it out to be.

The insanity defense is one of the few major defenses that the public as a whole knows. However, it is a complicated subject and the movie and tv drama depictions do not do it justice. There are different standards for each jurisdiction. In order to properly prove an insanity defense in Texas, the defendant must go through the requirements of the M’Naghten Rule: “”[T]o establish a defense on the ground of insanity, it must be clearly proved that, at the time of the committing of the act, the party accused was laboring under such a defect of reason, from disease of the mind, as not to know the nature and quality of the act he was doing; or, if he did know it, that he did not know he was doing what was wrong.” This is supplemented by the Irresistible Impulse Test: “the defendant will be found not guilty by reason of insanity if they can show that as a result of mental disease or defect, they could not resist the impulse to commit the crime of which they are accused, due to an inability to control their actions.”

Applied to this case, the defense has to prove that Routh did not know what he was doing was wrong or was not able to control himself because of a mental defect. This means that regardless of his potentially unstable mental condition, regardless of the PTSD diagnosis, if Routh knew that killing Kyle and Littlefield was wrong, he should be found guilty of murder. This will be the main focus of the trial.

The prosecutor has chosen not to pursue the death penalty. If the defense fails to convince the jury of this, then Routh will face life in prison without parol; or if a lesser offense (not first degree murder) is proven then parol may be available. If the defense is successful, Routh will still may be civilly committed due to his mental state. However, if the defense is successful in applying the insanity defense using PTSD, what does that mean for other veterans who have been diagnosed with PTSD. This trial will likely effect more than just the parties directly involved.