Sister of bombing victim rages at Nichols

Jurors listened to more emotional testimony Tuesday, such as that of Ruth Hightower, whose daughter died in the bombing

In this story:

• 'My brother loved this country'
• Videotape of emergency room shown
• Relatives still have nightmares
• 'I never thought I would outlive them'
• Related stories and sites

December 30, 1997
Web posted at: 9:51 p.m. EST (0251 GMT)

DENVER (CNN) -- Glaring across the courtroom at Terry Nichols, the sister of a U.S. Customs agent killed in the Oklahoma City bombing underlined each word with rage Tuesday as she said, "My brother loved this country."

It was the first time Nichols' jurors had seen a display of anger from any of the three dozen victims' relatives, rescuers and police who have testified this week in support of the prosecution's plea for the death penalty.

Nichols showed no reaction as Kay Ice Fulton of Beaumont, Texas, talked about Paul Ice, who spent 20 years as a Marine before joining the Customs Service and became one of the eight federal employees to die in the April 19, 1995 bombing.

"He was so, so proud to be able to take care of everyone in this room and everyone in this country," Fulton said.

CNN's Tony Clark tells us some jurors had a hard time listening to Tuesday's testimony.

"He was the consummate family person, son, brother, father, nephew, cousin. He loved his family," she said, her voice breaking. "My brother loved this country and protecting it."

Prosecutors say Nichols and co-defendant Timothy McVeigh conceived and carried out the bombing that destroyed the nine-story Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, killing 168 people and injuring more than 500.

McVeigh was convicted earlier this year on 11 murder and conspiracy charges and sentenced to death. A jury last week convicted Nichols of conspiracy and eight counts of involuntary manslaughter, concluding that he did not set out to kill anyone.

Videotape of emergency room shown

Nichols was hundreds of miles away from Oklahoma City when the truck bomb exploded, and his attorney on Monday said the defense will present evidence that Nichols' role "was relatively minor."

But the conspiracy charge carries the death penalty, and prosecutors hope that painful stories will prompt the jury to sentence Nichols to death rather than giving him life in prison.

They showed a videotape of a hospital emergency room, where bloodied victims, including children in wheelchairs, were being treated while sirens blared and doctors shouted orders. A foot on one victim was twisted backward.

Several victims' relatives gasped. Nichols stared into a computer screen, watching the brief display.

Later, Michael Reyes, a Housing and Urban Development employee, told jurors he first thought of an earthquake when the bomb exploded. He said he dove under his desk for protection and found himself falling four stories.

"I was in a headfirst dive, in a free fall," he said. "I was saying to myself that I did not want to die and this wasn't real, but in my mind I knew I was about to die."

When he landed, Reyes said he suffered gashes on his face and wrist, had separated pelvic bones and bruises along his lower lumbar area and right thigh. His father, Tony, who also worked for HUD, died.

Relatives still have nightmares

Victims' relatives told jurors they still suffer nightmares and attend counseling as they struggle to cope.

Sharon Coyne, whose daughter, Jaci Rae, was killed, said her good memories of her baby always dissolve into an imaginary vision of the 14-month-old girl lying amid the building rubble, her hair pasted to her forehead by blood, glass shards covering her body and her diaper filled with blood.

She and her husband have talked about having more children, but Coyne said she has been afraid she would resent them for being alive when her baby was dead. "If you lose your child, it consumes your life," she said.

As he frantically searched the building rubble for survivors, Oklahoma City police Sgt. Allan Prokop said he saw a female hand and arm sticking from a large pile of gravel and debris. As he held the hand, waiting for help, Prokop said it grew cold and stiff, and "she quit moving." He also rescued a young boy who had a brick protruding from his forehead.

Glen Westberry said his young son, David, once asked his mother to run a red light so they "could go to heaven and be with paw-paw" -- his grandfather, Robert Westberry, who was killed in the bombing.

'I never thought I would outlive them'

Jannie Coverdale's voice shook slightly as she told of the guilt she has lived with every day since her two grandsons died in the building's day-care center.

"Aaron and Elijah were my life. I lived for them," she said. "I keep thinking if I had stayed home that morning, if I had not put them in that day-care center, if I hadn't continued working, they would still be alive. And I can't get rid of the guilt.

"I wish I could reach into heaven and bring them back," she said. "I never thought I would outlive them. Grandparents don't do that."

Donald Ferrell, whose daughter Susan, an attorney with the Department of Housing and Urban Development, died in the blast, said the loss "is the first thing you think of every morning and the last thing you think about at night."

Correspondent Tony Clark, The Associated Press and Reuters contributed to this report.

T H E   N I C H O L S   T R I A L  /   T H E   M c V E I G H   T R I A L
T H E   B O M B I N G  /   C N N   S T O R I E S   /   L I N K S

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