Reading Of Victims’ Names Brings Tears Survivors Of Bombing Criticize Defense For Reading List Of Oklahoma City Dead

Some were surprised. Some were offended. And some victims’ relatives broke into tears when Timothy McVeigh’s lawyer opened his case by reading the names of all 168 people who died in the Oklahoma City bombing.

“It was upsetting,” said Marsha Kight, whose grown daughter was killed in the blast. “It tore my heartstrings.”

Stephen Jones’ solemn, six-minute recitation Thursday may have been an attempt to win sympathy to his client, but the tactic drew criticism.

Paul Heath, who heads an association for the bombing survivors, said “I think some of us thought it was dishonorable.” Still, he couldn’t help but hear the quiet tears in the courtroom seats around him.

“For those of us in Oklahoma, the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building is the event by which we measure time,” McVeigh attorney Stephen Jones said. “It is to my generation in Oklahoma what Pearl Harbor was to my parents’ generation.”

The courthouse was packed Thursday after weeks of sparse attendance during jury selection. Reporters in the front rows jammed in shoulder to shoulder. A sloped wall prevented them from seeing most of the jury.

Victims’ families mingled with members of the public near the back. The tearful emotions of the morning session gave way to obvious boredom when Jones’ opening dragged on.

Roy Sells, the widower of a woman killed in the blast, rested his head against the wall.

“It’s getting a little boring now,” Sells said at a break. “I think we need to move on to something else.”

Those who could see the jury craned their necks for reactions during key moments of the opening statements. At one end of the front row, Michael Tigar, the lead attorney for McVeigh’s co-defendant Terry Nichols, looked on, sporting a tie covered with bright orange cartoon tigers.

In Oklahoma City, where 150 relatives and survivors watched a closed-circuit telecast of the trial, John Taylor strained to make out McVeigh’s reactions on the big-screen TV.

“The picture is of such poor quality we can’t see his features,” Taylor said. “It was hard to see his expression.”

Prosecutors and defense lawyers strode quickly by reporters at the end of the court day, snapping up umbrellas to ward off the rain that replaced a heavy morning snow.

Jones flashed a thumbs-up sign and said “You tell me,” when asked how the day had gone. Hartzler confined himself to a complaint about the rain.

Rudy Guzman got up early in the morning to make sure he got a seat for the trial. He wanted to get his first face-to-face look at the man accused of killing his brother Marine Capt. Randy Guzman.

Randy, like McVeigh, fought in the Gulf War, a fact that irks his brother.

“My brother was there in the same sand as McVeigh,” said the 29-year-old Guzman. “I guess he turned on us.”

As he left court, Guzman said he was satisfied.

“I just looked and looked and looked,” he said. “I just kind of gave him a glare.”