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But the more important technique employed was that of the modern talk show. Erik's lawyer Leslie Abramson held her jury riveted. She mastered the art of tough love so well that in her postmortem disgust with Jose and Kitty -- who were tried and convicted of the most heinous crimes without being able to confront their accusers -- the jurors wanted to go wherever she did. She was the law as grand Oprah. By dragging the case out for six months, the defense was able to give the jury time to work through their problems with what the boys had done. In this 12-step program, the jurors were led through a recovery process whereby they could see that the sons could only begin their healing process once they got their parents out of the way.
Each day the defense team came into the small, windowless courtroom as if it were a foster home and they were surrogate parents, making sure these orphans were seated comfortably, picking lint off a shoulder, huddling close during recess. The brothers eschewed the suits worn by most defendants seeking respectability in favor of the open-necked Oxford shirts and crew-neck sweaters of all-American college boys, not two grown men who could have left home if life was so intolerable.
In the jargon of the trial, the parents were guilty of enabling their sons to be bad boys without consequences. Plush Beverly Hills High, which the boys attended, comes complete with an indoor parking garage for BMWs and Mercedes- Benz. When Lyle's father presented him with an Alfa Romeo -- a gift for learning to drive -- the boy called it a "piece of shit" because he wanted a Porsche. Within days of killing the old man, he bought one for $70,000. The jury looked shocked only twice: when Lyle's cool voice came out of a boombox telling the therapist he would miss his dog as much as his parents, and when Erik said he felt love for his mother when he placed the shotgun in her cheek and blasted away her eye and nose. The brothers went from parents who understood too much to a jury that did.
At a time when the public is clamoring for a get-tough policy on crime, juries are being led to empathize. During the trial, Lyle, who wears the most authentic toupee money can buy, put on a mask of pain. Last week he smiled.