Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, November 7, 1993 TAG: 9311070140
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: KRISTIN HUCKSHORN KNIGHT-RIDDER/TRIBUNE
DATELINE: MANASSAS LENGTH: Long
Lorena Bobbitt's 8-inch knife, with its bloodstained blade, and a photograph of John Wayne Bobbitt's penis nestled in ice in a Ziploc bag will be submitted as evidence when a jury trial begins this week against John Bobbitt, a boyish ex-Marine.
John, 26, a former altar boy, stands trial Monday on charges that he sexually assaulted his wife. Lorena, 24, goes on trial later this month, charged with malicious wounding. She'll plead temporary insanity as a result of John's alleged assault. He'll claim that she consented to sex and then fabricated the charges to justify her act.
John Bobbitt's attorney, Gregory Murphy, unsuccessfully tried moving the trial because of the intense debate "the case has inspired between men and women" in this historic town 20 miles outside Washington.
But it's too late to keep this case quiet. Men still wince, women still snicker, more than four months after the June 23 incident that The Washington Times called "Mrs. Bobbitt's Surgical Strike" and Vanity Fair dubbed "A Night To Dismember."
"This is a woman's ultimate revenge fantasy," wrote Tony Kornheiser, a humor columnist for The Washington Post. "Some friends of mine have left their homes and are staying at Hal's house, where they've set up a sentry system so they can sleep in shifts."
Some women find Lorena's act empowering. "It shows in the most graphic way possible that the difference between a man and a woman is but a few inches and a butcher knife," says Judith Mueller, executive director of the Women's Center in Vienna.
Maury Povich devoted a talk show to the episode. Book and movie offers continue pouring in. "Every talk show that exists" has called requesting interviews, says Paul B. Ebert, commonwealth's attorney for Prince William County. Ebert, who will try both cases, likes to point out that he has more inmates on death row than any other prosecutor in Virginia.
The trials, so lurid, so primal and so perfect for prime time, are expected to draw dozens of reporters to the courthouse. Women's groups supporting her and men's groups backing him may stage demonstrations. "It's an attempted homicide. She left him to bleed," says Sidney Siller, founder of the National Organization for Men Inc.
Cameras aren't permitted during his trial because it involves accusations of a sexual assault. But cameras will be allowed during her trial, scheduled to begin Nov. 29. That means the entire country could join with jurors in viewing evidence that includes the knife, the bloody sheet John brought to the hospital, her torn green and white underwear, and graphic photos of his damaged goods.
Viewers will hear testimony from the two doctors who reattached the penis in a 9 1/2-hour operation. Also scheduled to testify is John's childhood friend from upstate New York, who was in the apartment the morning of the incident.
Despite attempts by people to portray Lorena as a feminist heroine and John as a helpless victim, "neither the people nor the facts of their relationship are ones that folks should want to embrace," says Susan Fain, an assistant professor of justice at American University in Washington. Fain worries that the "soap opera" atmosphere will overshadow the serious issue of domestic violence against women.
Neighbors are expected to testify that John bullied his wife, that he was a flirt, and that he couldn't hold a steady job.
Lorena, an immigrant from Venezuela, supported her husband on her $325-a-week salary from The Nail Sculptor. She also admitted embezzling more than $7,000 from her employer and taking $100 from the pocket of John's friend that night. Shortly after the incident, she hired a Southern California entertainment company to represent her.
She's expected to testify that he forced her to have sex on June 23 after he returned from a night out. Some legal experts believe her attorney, James Lowe, erred by allowing her to appear on "20/20" and to be interviewed by Vanity Fair. Some of her statements, in which she details an unhappy four-year marriage to John and previous abuse by him, could be used against her, they say.
John, who hasn't spoken about the incident publicly, is expected to testify that he drank four or five beers and several shots of hard liquor that night, according to his statement to police. At about 2 a.m., he stopped at Denny's for breakfast, then returned home. John acknowledges that he had sex with his wife. Afterward, he says, he felt "a sharp pain."
Rescue workers retrieved the missing penis after Lorena called and told them where it was - at the intersection of Old Centreville Road and Maplewood Drive.
Despite the sensational details, the cases are not complicated from a legal standpoint, says Fain.
John's trial will boil down to whether the jury believes him or her, says Fain. If convicted, he faces a sentence of 1 to 20 years. In Lorena's trial, the jury will have to decide whether she acted with malice, intentionally wounding her husband, or acted impulsively while under extreme duress. She could serve 5 to 20 years if convicted.
"The government is going to focus on the length of time between the alleged rape and the cutting of the penis," says Fain. "She has time to walk into the kitchen. She gets a drink of water. She contemplates the history of their torrid relationship. Then, she sees the knife. That looks like malice."
Many people have already made up their minds. Greg Murphy says it depresses him that so many people seem to think John had it coming. John, he says, is becoming "progressively more despondent" as the trial approaches. He keeps asking, "Why did she do it?" says Murphy.
James Lowe, Lorena's attorney, believes the case will represent "an opportunity for one small step forward in the way we treat domestic violence." Lorena, he says, is living with friends and continuing to work. "She wishes it would go away," says Lowe.
Paul Ebert is preparing to prosecute the most-publicized case of his long career. Says Ebert: "Two wrongs don't make a right."
Memo: shorter version ran in the Metro edition.