Toledo Blade - International Pressure

Two weeks before his trial began, prosecutors offered Richey a plea bargain that might have resulted in release from prison this year. Professing his innocence, Richey refused. He still maintains it was the right call.

Ms. Torley and a growing number of her countrymen believe Richey was unfairly convicted. They - and Richey's attorneys - contend they have the evidence to prove it and are demanding a new trial.

But Richey, 34, is running out of time. To date, each of his appeals has been rejected. His next appeal, filed June 19 in Cleveland, probably will be heard in the spring.

He has only two chances left.

Putnam County officials involved in the case believe Richey is guilty. They are fed up with the issue and are disgusted with the bashing they have received by the British press, which has been unabashedly pro-Richey.

Had it not been for Ms. Torley and the improbable three-year campaign she has waged, few would care much about Richey, who had been a troubled, angry, and immature young man long before he was arrested for aggravated murder in Columbus Grove, O., in early July 1986. By chance, Ms. Torley had read an article about Richey in her local paper in 1995 and became intrigued.

Gradually, after studying the evidence and getting to know the man through phone calls and correspondence, she was drawn into the case. It has become an obsession for Ms. Torley, 34, unemployed, and the single mother of four.

Through her efforts, the case has attracted international attention, and Richey has gained a number of prominent supporters. The Archbishop of Canterbury has written Governor Voinovich on his behalf, as have a number of members of the British Parliament.

Jim Richey, Kenny's father, once told a British television reporter: ?Have you ever been in the dark, and you can't find the light, and you're alone and blind? Then a little ray of light comes in and you begin to see the way. Well, that little ray of light is Karen. I know I have someone that cares too, and she's shown me there are a great many others like her.? Such a notion, when she hears of it, causes Ms. Torley to shift uncomfortably in her office chair, tucked into a corner of her cramped, second-story, tenement bedroom. But she has an answer. ?My mother says it's stubbornness. She says I'm an aggravating woman. I won't accept no unless you prove it to me. [This is] an unusual case. It's not about the death penalty. It's about a miscarriage of justice. The fact is a man might die because no one will listen to the evidence.?

Ottawa, O.

Like Karen Torley, Daniel Gerschutz is certain he knows the truth about the Richey case. However, the 50-year-old Putnam County prosecutor, who helped persuade the three-judge panel to convict Richey and order his execution, is not as passionate about the case as is Ms. Torley.

For good reason, he says.

?From my vantage point, this case is over. Three judges looked at it, said he was guilty, and gave him the death penalty.?

Mr. Gerschutz, seated in his paneled West Main Street office near the courthouse in which Richey was tried and convicted, is confounded by all the attention the case has garnered. British reporters hassle him for interviews, all of which he has declined since a 1992 British television news report he calls unfair.

Bespectacled and portly, Mr. Gerschutz explains in a thin monotone: ?The way they portrayed it, it made us look like local yokels. It made a mockery of us. It made us look bad. It portrayed us in such a bad light that I refuse to talk to any of them.?

Aggravated, Mr. Gerschutz continues: ?No one around here feels good about invoking the death penalty. But for the Archbishop of Canterbury to castigate us for this conviction is a little bit out of bounds.?

?This is our system of justice. We believe the trial was fair.?

Columbus Grove, O.

The blaze that killed Cynthia Collins began on June 30, 1986, about 4 a.m. in A-13 at the Old Farm Village Apartments on the west side of Columbus Grove, seven miles south of Ottawa. Once the site of an Indian sugar grove and settled by former Columbus residents, Columbus Grove has two major streets, a state park, and 2,300 residents, many of whom farm soybeans, corn, and wheat.

Initially, the village's volunteer fire chief Len Heffner ruled that a faulty electric fan was the cause of the fatal fire. Robert Cryer, the assistant state fire marshal, later discovered patterns on the apartment floor and balcony that he concluded indicated the fire had been set deliberately and was fueled by accelerants. Mr. Cryer also noticed that the unit's smoke alarm was disconnected and hanging by its wires. Upon examination, he decided it had been unhooked before the fire.

The investigation quickly centered on Richey, whom several Old Farm residents testified that they had heard boasting at a party the previous evening that he was going to burn down the two-story, 16-apartment structure where the party was held, known as "A" building.

Richey had lived in one of the subsidized, low-income complex's three buildings with his father since early spring, after leaving his wife and young son in Minnesota.

Born in the Netherlands, where his father was stationed in the U.S. Air Force, Richey moved to his mother's native Edinburgh at 3 months. He stayed there with his parents and two younger brothers until he was 18, though he never claimed British citizenship.

In 1982, his parents divorced. His father moved to Ottawa, 25 miles northeast of his native Delphos. Jobless - and aimless - Kenny followed several months later, hoping for a fresh start.

But he fared little better in the United States. Within a year, Richey was jailed for 30 days in Putnam County after he cut his girlfriend's father with a penknife during a dispute, Jim Richey says.

Upon his release, Kenny joined his father as a salesman for a portrait photography company. The two traveled the country for a year. Kenny then became a portrait photographer for the same company and, in 1984, moved to Brainerd, Minn. There he met his future wife. He also joined the Marines, something his father had encouraged him to do.

But Richey's problems continued. Suffering from depression, he was discharged in late 1985 Jim Richey says. By then his wife, pregnant with a son, had left for Minnesota. Richey followed her, but the marriage fizzled and he returned to Ohio to live with his father.

Soon after Kenny's arrival, Jim Richey says, ?I got upset because he wanted to party. He brought girls home at night. I told him that under my roof he had to live by my rules. He didn't take too kindly to that. The next time he brought a girl home I packed his bags for him. He moved out.? Three days later Kenny cut his wrists at a nearby motel, Jim Richey says.

He was treated at St. Rita's Medical Center in Lima. His father then admitted him to the state-operated Toledo Mental Health Center for psychiatric testing, but he stayed only a short time and returned to Columbus Grove in early spring.

At the time, Jim Richey was reeling from another family tragedy. His second son, Tom, who had moved to Ohio after Kenny's wedding, had joined the U.S. Army the previous year, becoming a member of its commando unit, the Rangers.

Unlike the outgoing and boisterous Kenny, Tom was reserved and had never been in trouble, his parents say. One night, however, Tom took two hits of LSD and fatally shot, execution-style, an appliance store clerk after a dispute. Jim Richey heard the news while Kenny was in the hospital. After agreeing to a plea bargain, Tom Richey was sentenced to 65 years in the Washington state penitentiary, where he remains today.

During the few months Kenny had lived at Old Farm he had become friends with Hope Collins and Peggy Price Villearreal, next door neighbors who lived on the second floor of "A" building. The threesome - none of whom had jobs - often drank coffee together and listened to music, usually in Ms. Collins's apartment. Ms. Collins, recently divorced, lived in A-13 with her daughter, Cynthia. Ms. Villearreal, also divorced lived with her two daughters.

Below Ms. Collins, in A-10, lived Kandice Barchet, known as Kandy, and her infant son, Jason. Ms. Barchet, who had moved in on June 15, began dating Richey two days later.

Much of the social activity at Old Farm revolved around the Collins, Villearreal, and Barchet apartments. Friends came and went at all hours. Partying was the principal activity. That aggravated the conservative townsfolk, who were upset with having a subsidized housing complex in their midst.

The Sunday before the fire the group gathered at Ms. Barchet's apartment for an evening of drinking. Before the night was over, Richey had fractured his hand punching a window after learning that Ms. Barchet had sex during the party with Ms. Collins's friend John Butler, according to court testimony.

A week later, the group held an informal party on the landing next to Ms. Collins's and Ms. Villearreal's apartments. They were joined by Mike Nichols, 27, of Ironton, O. who was in town for his brother's wedding and was staying with his mother, an Old Farm resident. Two days earlier, Mr. Nichols had met Ms. Barchet for the first time, and the two were attracted to each other. After the events of the previous weekend, Ms. Barchet apparently had decided she had had enough of Richey. Mr. Nichols, sensing a potential problem, asked Richey to talk, and Richey agreed. As they did, Ms. Barchet approached them. She told Richey, who was dressed in his usual camouflage clothes, they could remain friends but she wanted to be with Mr. Nichols.

In his court testimony, seven months later, Mr. Nichols said Richey told him, ?Do you know what you're getting yourself into?? before leaving, looking angry.

However, in an interview last month, Mr. Nichols said Richey shook his hand, wished him good luck, and walked away.

Ms. Barchet testified that Richey had threatened to kill anyone who came between them. Several witnesses say Richey appeared upset after the breakup that night; others said he seemed OK.

Richey, in a phone interview last month and in letters to his brother, Tom, 12 years ago, says he did not have serious interest in Ms. Barchet and that he had planned to return to Scotland sometime that July.

The June 30th party continued late into the night with many of the participants, particularly Richey, drinking heavily. The group moved between the landing and Ms. Villearreal's and Ms. Collins's apartments and, Ms. Collins testified, at one point, she and some of her friends went to her apartment to smoke hashish. Most of them also smoked cigarettes. Cynthia, who had been put to bed about 9:30 by Ms. Villearreal, woke up and mingled with the group for a while before returning to bed.

About midnight, Ms. Barchet and Mr. Nichols left Ms. Villearreal's apartment, where they had been kissing in front of Richey. Witnesses say Richey did not seem to mind. Ms. Barchet and Mr. Nichols went to bed together in the room directly below Cynthia's bedroom. It was a hot night and the apartments were not air-conditioned; Ms. Barchet's bedroom window remained open.

Several witnesses, including Ms. Villearreal, say that later, as Richey became more intoxicated, they heard him say he was going to burn the building that night. A 70-year-old neighbor, Juanita Altimus, testified that she heard Richey say the same thing that evening as he walked down the stairs near her apartment.

Ms. Villearreal has since recanted, saying Richey said no such thing. At about 3:30 a.m., the party ended. Dennis Smith, a friend of Ms. Collins's, stopped by and asked her to go with him to his house to party and shoot off fireworks. Ms. Collins, with Richey at the time, said she would if Richey would watch her daughter.

Ms. Collins says Richey agreed.

Richey says he told her no, but, in an interview, he said he believes she didn't hear him.

Ms. Collins says the last thing she told Richey before driving off with Mr. Smith was not to lock her door. She saw Richey head back toward the apartment. Another witness testified she saw him pass out in a field across the street. The same witness says she later saw Richey get up and walk away.

Prosecutors argued that Richey, has fractured right hand in a splint, entered a nearby greenhouse soon after, stole gasoline and paint thinner, climbed onto a 5-foot-tall storage shed and then up onto Ms. Collins's balcony, and poured the accelerants on the balcony and in the living room before setting the fire. They said his intended victims were Ms. Barchet and Mr. Nichols, asleep in the apartment below.

About 4:30 a.m., Kandice Barchet rose to give her son a bottle. Mr. Nichols, a light sleeper, awakened too and saw a bright light illuminating his window. Peering outside, he saw flames shooting out of Ms. Collins's patio door.

Once outside, Mr. Nichols saw Richey run around a corner of the building and up the stairs to Ms. Collins's apartment, where firefighters were attempting to enter through the open door.

He heard Richey shout, ?There's a baby in there! There's a baby in there!?

?I never saw anyone freak out like he was,? Mr. Nichols recalls. Several firefighters had to restrain Richey from entering the apartment, which was engulfed in flames and smoke.

?He was pulling. He was struggling,? says Keith Hartoon, a Columbus Grove fire department volunteer, adding that once Richey calmed down he pointed firefighters to Cynthia's bedroom.

And what if Richey had succeeded in entering the apartment? ?If you took one hit of that air you knew if you took two you'd be dead,? Mr. Hartoon says.

Cynthia Collins was pronounced dead at St. Rita's Medical Center, Lima, at 5:18 a.m., nine days short of her third birthday. She died of asphyxiation caused by smoke inhalation, according to the Allen County coroner, who said it's likely she was dead at the scene.

Mr. Hartoon, whose daughter was about Cynthia's age at the time, says he'll never forget seeing the girl's body facedown on the bedroom floor. ?I didn't sleep for two weeks; I still tear up over it.?

Ottawa, O.

Kenny Richey was arrested July 10, charged with aggravated murder, aggravated arson, breaking and entering, and child endangering. The Putnam County grand jury attached a death penalty specification to the aggravated murder charge.

Also that day, Hope Collins, who was 21, pleaded not guilty to involuntary manslaughter and child endangering for leaving her daughter alone. She spent 45 days in jail before being given a two-year suspended prison sentence and three years of probation.

Richey, held without bail in the county jail, was declared fit to stand trial. Because the death penalty case was Putnam County's first since 1874, the court had to turn to Allen County for a public defender with appropriate experience. In Lima, they found William Kluge, a tall, bearded 36-year-old with several death penalty cases behind him.

Early on, Mr. Kluge made several fateful decisions. Knowing community emotions over the case were volatile and believing he could not persuade the court to change the trial venue, he talked Richey into opting for a three-judge panel rather than a jury trial. It was an unusual choice that has been criticized because defendants generally fare better with juries.

Mr. Kluge's worst mistake, his critics say, was his choice of Gregory DuBois, a Columbus-based consulting engineer, as his expert witness from a list supplied by the court.

Mr. Kluge failed to interview several key witnesses. For instance, had he talked to Ms. Villearreal he might have learned that Cynthia Collins once had set Ms. Villearreal's sofa on fire with a burning cigarette and had played with matches on other occasions, something prosecutors have said they were aware of. He would have heard that the night of the fire, Ms. Collins and Ms. Villearreal grilled pork chops inside Ms. Collins's apartment and that, while they cooked, Ms. Villearreal noticed that the smoke alarm had been disconnected.

Ms. Villearreal says she, Ms. Collins, and other Old Farm residents frequently detached the alarms because they often activated when residents cooked. (Mr. Nichols, who still lives at Old Farm, says that remains the case today.)

During the trial, Ms. Collins testified her smoke alarm always went off when she cooked. But Mr. Kluge did not ask her if she disconnected it the night of the fire.

In December, 1986, prosecutors offered Richey a plea bargain that could have freed him after 11 years and four months. Mr. Kluge told Richey to accept the offer. He refused.

?I'm going to stick with my plea of not guilty and take my chances with the death penalty,? he wrote to his brother, Tom. ?I told them I'm innocent and that's the way I'm going to plead and nothing else.? Randall Basinger, then assistant county prosecutor and now a Putnam County judge, joined Mr. Gerschutz to argue the state's case.

Then Ohio Supreme Court Chief Justice Frank Celebrezze selected judges Charles Abood of Toledo, since retired, and Michael J. Corrigan and Donald Nugent, both of Cleveland, to form the panel.

The trial lasted four days. The prosecution called 34 witnesses; Mr. Kluge six. Kenny Richey did not testify.

Mr. Basinger told the panel he had a solid case against Richey, even though much of his evidence was circumstantial. He had the motive - Richey's anger at Kandice Barchet and his jealously of Mike Nichols. Richey had told people he was going to burn the building. Richey was the last one seen near the apartment, and one of the first ones there after the fire was discovered.

Most important, Mr. Basinger said he had a report by veteran assistant state fire marshal Robert Cryer that proved the fire had been deliberately set using accelerants, a finding supported by the Ohio Arson Crime Laboratory.

Damaging evidence was provided by Peggy Villearreal, Juanita Altimus, and two other witnesses, all of whom said they heard Richey say he was going to burn "A" building that night. However, none agreed on the time Richey allegedly said it.

Ms. Altimus, whom another witness and Old Farm residents described as a gossip, made one of the trial's most alarming statements. She testified that she heard Richey remark while standing beneath Ms. Collins's balcony next to a smoldering chair: ?It looks like I done a hell of a good job, didn't I??

Ms. Altimus said the incident happened about noon on June 30, about six hours after the fire was brought under control. But Steve Stechschulte, a Putnam County sheriff's deputy, later testified that he was interviewing Richey in his apartment at that time and that Richey had been asleep on the couch when he arrived.

Ms. Altimus later said the incident happened July 1. However, by then the chair she said had been nearby had been removed. She has since died.

The issue of the accelerants' source remains circumstantial. Richey admitted to police that he entered the K&J Greenhouse across the street from the apartment through an open door and stole two petunia baskets - one for Ms. Collins, the other for Ms. Villearreal. He was not sure when he did this.

Kenneth Wright, K&J's owner, confirmed the theft, but said he could not tell if any gasoline or paint thinner was missing. No discarded containers were ever found. No trace of accelerants was found on Richey's clothing.

Mr. Kluge argued that it is improbable that someone as drunk as witnesses confirmed that Richey was and who had a damaged hand could have hauled two containers up onto a storage shed and then onto a balcony, as the prosecution said he did, without spilling any on his clothing, much less handle the climb.

Richey supporters have since noted that the door to Ms. Collins's apartment was open, a point prosecutors have conceded. They ask, why didn't Richey just let himself in?

Mr. Kluge argued that some of the state's evidence had been tainted. The morning of the fire, before Mr. Cryer began his investigation and arson was suspected, Old Farm's owners, Buckeye Management of Mansfield, O., gutted the apartment. Everything, including the carpet, was hauled off to the local dump. When Mr. Cryer found out, he ordered the carpet retrieved. It was, and then laid out on pavement at the Columbus Grove police station near a fuel pump. Ohio Arson Crime Laboratory technicians reported gasoline residue on the carpet. Mr. Kluge called foul, saying the carpet should be disallowed as evidence, but he was overruled.

Mr. Cryer says the carpet was not a crucial part of the case.

The most damaging witness was Mr. DuBois, Richey's expert. He agreed with Mr. Cryer's findings and testified for the prosecution. Mr. Kluge tried to block the effort. But Mr. Gerschutz, the prosecutor, said Mr. Kluge was required by law to turn over Mr. DuBois's report to the prosecution, and once he did they had the right to use him as their witness. The judges sided with Mr. Gerschutz.

Richey was not a model defendant. Within weeks of his arrest he threatened to kill Mr. Basinger and several Old Farm witnesses - if they testified against him. As a result of the threats, Richey's outgoing mail was intercepted and his legs were shackled during the trial. In letters to two friends in Scotland, he recalled his gang activities and violent deeds. The friends later said in sworn statements that Richey was exaggerating.

Richey, who describes his behavior at the time as immature, says he made the letters intentionally inflammatory because he knew they were being read by law-enforcement officials.

In the courtroom, Richey - short, slender, red-haired, and pale-skinned - delivered frightening glares to some of the witnesses, Mike Nichols among them.

?It wasn't funny,? Mr. Nichols says. ?He just had this strange look in his eyes.?

Mr. Nichols says he saw the same look another time, as he and Richey stood side-by-side on the grass watching firefighters complete their work at the Collins apartment.

?And that's when he said `If you're so bad, let's finish it now,' or something like that,? Mr. Nichols testified.

In his closing argument, Mr. Basinger, the assistant prosecutor, called Richey a sociopathic killer and told the judges, ?The evidence in this case is irrefutable.?

He asked the judges to transfer intent, meaning that even though Richey allegedly intended to kill Mike Nichols and Kandice Barchet, because Cynthia Collins died in the process, he should be found guilty of aggravated murder and be eligible for the death penalty.

?What evidence is there that Mr. Richey set the fire?? Mr. Kluge countered. ?The court may draw inferences from some of the evidence that Mr. Basinger talked about. But is an inference proof beyond a reasonable doubt??

The judges deliberated three hours and sided with the prosecution, finding Richey guilty on all four charges.

Richey's sentencing hearing was scheduled for Jan. 16, 1987. But on that day he ended up at St. Rita's Medical Center in Lima after allegedly slashing his wrists with a razor blade and taking an overdose of a nonprescription drug.

The hearing was rescheduled for Jan. 26. That morning, after listening to a group of psychologists conclude that Richey was emotionally unstable but not crazy, Judges Abood, Corrigan, and Nugent sentenced him to death.

Despite complaints from the defense, one of Richey's letters to a friend in Scotland and his threats to Mr. Basinger were admitted as evidence during the sentencing hearing to demonstrate, the prosecutors said, a lifelong pattern of violent and unstable behavior.

This ruling, later objected to by three members of the Ohio Supreme Court, has become an important part of Richey's current appeal.

The critical factor against the death penalty, according to Mr. Kluge's argument, was Richey's well-documented effort to save Cynthia Collins. It was an argument the judges rejected.

On Feb. 9, 1987, Judge Corrigan filed an opinion that explained why.

He wrote: ?[Richey's rescue effort was negated by] the unrefuted evidence that the defendant pulled the fire alarm from the hall prior to torching the decedent's apartment and effectively eliminating the chance that Cynthia Collins would awaken and escape her own demise.?

His statement surprised even the prosecution, which had never raised the issue or connected Richey to the detached smoke alarm.

Although Mr. Cryer told the panel that he believed the smoke alarm had been disconnected before the fire and that the resulting hole created a draft that pulled the flames up to the ceiling, he never suggested that Richey was responsible.

When Richey's appeals lawyer, Ken Parsigian, read Judge Corrigan's opinion, he believed he had a good case. At the very least, he thought, Richey did not deserve the death penalty.

Whether Mr. Parsigian could win Richey a new trial - and perhaps his freedom - was the far more difficult question.

Tomorrow: New evidence questions Richey's conviction and death sentence. But his hope for a new trial grows increasingly difficult even as his plight becomes an international story thanks to the help of a Scottish woman.

THE BLADE, TOLEDO, OHIO

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