Percy Allen / NBA reporter
Ridiculous Williams verdict owed to celebrity, not justice

AP Jayson Williams, shown with wife Tanya, dodged a charge of aggravated manslaughter.

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Those who sat behind Jayson Williams in the courtroom and supported the former New Jersey Nets star felt an urge to cheer as the jury foreman read the verdict that may ultimately set him free.

For a moment, they expressed their joy before being silenced and admonished for their actions. Courtroom etiquette frowns on such boorish behavior because in every case involving life and death, there are winners and losers.

But what was the point of the pretense?

Other than a female juror, who reportedly wept, few others in that room cried for Costas (Gus) Christofi, the limousine driver who was found dead in Williams' master bedroom after suffering a shotgun blast to his chest on Valentine's Day 2002.

The Christofi family apparently received their justice two years ago after settling a wrongful death suit and receiving $2.75 million from Williams. As such, most family members stayed away from the trial, allowing Williams and his supporters to shape the story of what happened in the wee hours of the morning on that tragic night.

Williams' big-budget defense team tailored a tale, which depicted an unfortunate accident, a glory-seeking prosecutor who made blunders and leeching witnesses, including former Sonic Benoit Benjamin, that attempted to extort money from the defendant.

In the end, the 12-member jury sided with celebrity.

They acquitted Williams on three of the eight counts he faced, including the most serious charge of aggravated manslaughter — which carried a maximum 30-year prison term — while convicting him of four lesser charges. Probation is a possibility.

Inexplicably, the jury was unable to reach a verdict on reckless manslaughter, the second-most serious charge, despite the overwhelming evidence against Williams.

At least this much is known of that fateful night. Williams hired Christofi to chauffeur him and some friends on a night that included an extravagant dinner, a $627 liquor bill and good times.
 
The party retired to Williams' Who Knew? Estates in Hunterdon County, N.J., and he led a tour of his 27,000-square-foot house that includes 41 rooms, half a regulation basketball court, an Olympic-sized swimming pool and a 10-seat movie theater.

While in his bedroom, Williams grabbed a Browning Citori 12-gauge shotgun from his gun cabinet, cracked it open, then jerked it shut with a flick of his wrist. As the gun closed, it fired, striking Christofi in the chest.

Afterward, Williams, who had been drinking, attempted to choreograph a cover up and make the shooting look like suicide.

Those facts are undeniable.

And yet, after three months of testimony from 43 witnesses, the jury couldn't reach a verdict of reckless manslaughter.

That's ridiculous.

In essence, they convicted Williams of the cover up, but not the crime.

"He didn't have the look of the cold-blooded killer," juror Angela Pravata, 37, told reporters outside the Somerset County Courthouse in Somerville, N.J. "I didn't see it in his eyes."

What they saw was fame.

They saw a celebrity with a good-guy, fun-loving image. They saw a man who was living the American dream. He escaped a rough section of New York and earned roughly $100 million over his 10-year NBA career. The 6-foot-10 forward, who had been a one-time All-Star, was a best-selling author and NBC basketball analyst largely because of his quick wit, punch-line prowess and ability to make people like him.

The jury saw all of this.

They heard about his big heart and how he adopted the children of two stepsisters who died from AIDS. Williams had always been a big drinker and he has troubled history with guns and violence, which is depicted in his autobiographical book, "Loose Balls."

In one chapter entitled "Why good friends occasionally almost kill each other," Williams describes how he accidentally fired a gun near Wayne Chrebet, which knocked out the former New York Jets receiver and left him unconscious for a few seconds.

Still, despite his cavalier attitude toward guns, friends and ex-teammates have described Williams as a lovable lout who had always offset his luxury living with generous giving.

Before the trial began, Williams made sure everyone knew his sob story. He and his wife, Tanya, sat on a couch across from Barbara Walters and told their sad, tragic tale on prime-time television.

"My husband doesn't deserve to go to jail," Tanya pleaded.

At least for now, she is correct.

Prosecutors have until May 21 to decide if they will retry Williams, who plans to appeal the guilty verdicts.

Celebrity justice was served in Somerset County, and once again we are left to wonder if the rich and famous can receive a fair trial in this country.

Because of the jury's verdict, we are led to believe that men like Christofi, a 55-year-old single man with no children, are not important. He was a former convict who served a prison term for burglary and receiving stolen goods.

When Christofi died, witnesses said Williams knelt over the body and cried: "My life is over."

In addition to being incredibly selfish, he was wrong.

Christofi's life is over, while it appears as if Williams has been given a second chance.

Percy Allen: 206-464-2278 or pallen@seattletimes.com