There’s endless talk of the trial of the century here in this tiny city, but none of it has to do with that impeachment thing going on 100 miles to the south. No, what has folks here riveted is the really sordid trial. That would be the murder trial of Thomas Capano, a former state prosecutor and high-profile attorney, which comes complete not just with O.J. Simpsonesque details of sex, class, betrayal and death but also with a surprise nearly every day.
So each morning of the trial–and there have been 11 weeks of mornings so far–scores of Wilmingtonians stand in line at the colonial-style state courthouse for hours as they compete for the most coveted seats in town.
“Monica who?” deadpans a regular trial observer, and there’s no doubt that the details that have unfolded during Capano’s trial are far more lurid than anything in the Ken Starr report. The loquacious lawyer and son of a self-made construction-industry tycoon is charged with murder in the first degree of his former lover Anne Marie Fahey, who had risen from her working-class background to land a job as scheduling secretary for Governor Thomas Carper.
No one expected Capano’s admission on the witness stand that he disposed of Fahey’s body by stuffing it into a 3-ft. Styrofoam cooler, and then, with the help of his brother, dumped it at sea. (The cooler was later found by fishermen.) Neither did anyone expect him to point the finger at another ex-mistress, Deborah MacIntyre, who, he says, “accidentally” shot Fahey as Capano tried to wrest a gun from her–an action he claims he later covered up by getting rid of the body, which has never been found. MacIntyre denies the entire story. “It’s not a whodunit–it’s a whodunwhat,” says Cris Barrish, a local reporter.
And few foresaw that Capano’s brothers Louis, 47, and Gerard, 36, squeezed by prosecutors and threatened with jail time, would turn on Capano in court and testify that he recruited them in the cover-up of the case. The latest twist: last week Capano’s only sister Marian and her husband, local lawyer Lee Ramunno, each mounted the witness stand to defend brother Thomas and attack the credibility and honesty of brothers Louis and Gerard.
And then, of course, there’s the sex. The case, which is expected to go to the jury after closing arguments early this week, has been punctuated with such bizarre and graphic accounts of Capano’s sexual activities that at times the local newspapers have chosen not to publish some of the testimony. Some in the courtroom refer to the defendant as the “man with the Velcro fly.” At one point a mortified Delaware deputy attorney general was forced to testify that he had had a “threesome” with Capano and MacIntyre. Capano, he said, watched through a window while he had sex with Capano’s mistress. Capano in turn seemed to have no remorse over his admission of numerous liaisons throughout his marriage, and he left behind a trail of graphic love letters as evidence. “Dear Slutty Little Girl” began a letter to one of what came to seem like a platoon of girlfriends.
Unfazed by the accounts of his peripatetic sex life, the arrogant defendant fenced constantly with prosecutors. But Capano finally unraveled in court last week when prosecutor Colm Connolly accused him of using his four daughters to mislead investigators. At the mention of his children, he shouted, “You heartless, gutless, soulless disgrace for a human being!” and accused the prosecutor of harassing his mother. The judge then had Capano escorted from the courtroom, and the trial adjourned for the day. A few weeks before, Capano had abruptly fired his four attorneys–only to take them back the next day.
“This is better than any series on television,” says flight attendant Susan Friedenberg, who knows what she likes, and has garnered occasional trial seats. “I always wanted to see a trial of a white-collar person from high society who falls in a hard way.”
At restaurants and bars, the speculation is ceaseless. This is a small town (pop. 70,000) and a small state, and the avalanche of disclosures has stunned the many who know everyone involved. Capano, once referred to as “the white knight” of a family with a history of legal problems, could face the death penalty if convicted.
The situation “definitely has torn relationships and friendships apart,” says Kevin Freel, a longtime friend of the Fahey family’s, who no longer speaks to another old friend who is one of Capano’s attorneys.
Sometimes it seems as if the only people in town not reveling in the daily details are Anne Marie Fahey’s four brothers and sister, who attend the trial daily and coolly keep their distance from members of the Capano family outside the courtroom. “They are determined and resolute to see this to the end,” says Freel. “But things will never be the same around here again. Anne Marie will still be gone.”
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