January 30, 2007 | Day 7 at the PETA trial was a study in absurdity. A nine-year veteran manager at People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, the group that regularly compares livestock farmers to Nazis and Klansmen, coolly discussed “the most humane way to euthanize kittens.” She later explained that two Dalmatians—one described in writing as “aggressive” and the other as “submissive”—were both killed in the back of a PETA-owned van. She testified that there have only been “a few occasions” over the years when PETA adopted out animals it found in the Bertie County, North Carolina shelter. And she didn't seem the slightest bit apologetic.

PETA's courtroom defense of employees Adria Hinkle and Andrew Cook seems nowhere near complete. We haven't even finished with the defense's third witness. But some fascinating facts about PETA's institutionalized animal killing program were brought out in the open for the first time.

The morning began with a brief appearance by William Coburn, the Public Works director for Windsor, NC—a town that continues to let PETA pick up and kill animals from its shelter. Coburn prefers to let PETA “put down” his town's stray animals because the group's lethal injections aren't as messy as the town's old method: a bullet to the brain. We learned later that on June 15, 2005, the day of their arrest, Hinkle and Cook picked up five (previously undiscussed) animals from his shelter.

But as with defense witness Sue Belch yesterday (whose knowledge of the Bertie County animal shelter was too dated to be relevant), Coburn had little to say about that shelter or the Ahoskie Animal Hospital—the facilities where PETA's alleged victims in this case came from. Coburn testified that he was unfamiliar with any agreement PETA had with these two facilities. In fact, all he could say for sure about the Bertie shelter was that its conditions have improved during recent years.

Note, by the way, that we call it an animal shelter. On at least thirty occasions today (we lost count), defense lawyers and witnesses referred to it (and similar facilities) as a “pound.” Words mean things. Defense lawyers are trying to paint the worst possible picture of these shelters, and the best possible picture of their clients. So a shelter becomes a pound, and kitten-killing becomes feline euthanasia. It's a bit of misdirection, but it just sounds better—sort of like People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

AAS Note: The Defense is right - the Bertie County 'animal shelter' is a pound. What is false is calling itself a shelter.

PETA Manager Clouds the Issue

Enter Daphna Nachminovitch. In her tenth year at PETA, Nachminovitch now runs PETA's “Research & Investigations” department, which include the “Community Animal Project” (whose mission includes killing lots of puppies and kittens).

In addition to her own history, Nachminovitch testified—over prosecution objections—about defendant Adria Hinkle's background and qualifications. This may be an indication that Hinkle won't be testifying on her own behalf. If she plans to take the stand, after all, there's no reason for her boss to walk the jury through her résumé.

Prosecutor Valerie Asbell raised another objection (the day was chock full of them) when defense lawyer Blair Brown got permission to show a video depicting dogs being put to sleep in a gas chamber. The grisly video, interestingly enough, was shot years ago at the Yadkin County shelter (in northwestern North Carolina ). In 2002, the Center for Consumer Freedom donated $15,000 to help build a new shelter there, after PETA's similar offered was rebuffed. County managers, it seems, were uncomfortable working with PETA after they learned about the group's financial ties to violent terrorism.

Most of lawyer Blair Brown's questions for Nachminovitch concerned the conditions of the Bertie County shelter during the years 2000, 2001, 2002, and 2003. The photos of animals were not pretty, and their descriptions unflattering. But Brown didn't explain what this had to do with the condition of the animals in that shelter on June 15, 2005—the day Hinkle and Cook picked up the pets that got them arrested.

Hinkle wasn't even hired at PETA until December 2003. She didn't begin taking field trips in PETA's vans until well into 2004. The dumping incidents that sparked the investigation in Hertford County didn't begin until May 2005. And no one has testified that the particular animals Hinkle and Cook allegedly picked up and killed on June 15, 2005 had anything wrong with them.

Hearsay, Your Honor

The biggest confrontation of the morning concerned the Hearsay rule—which essentially says that if I tell you your breath stinks, you are not allowed to testify about it in court. (If it's terribly important, I have to show up in court and describe what I said personally). Of course, there are exceptions. And North Carolina has its own peculiar list of them.

PETA's lawyers have been trying to show—without any credible evidence thus far—that Bertie County Animal Control Officer not only knew PETA was killing his animals, but asked them to do it. Today, defense lawyers produced a report, supposedly written by one of Daphna Nachminovitch's fieldwork employees, that described Anderson asking for PETA's help injecting an animal with something.

Problem: It's hearsay. Big time. So Nachminovitch wasn't allowed to read it in open court. The defense couldn't (or wouldn't) say who wrote the report—only that the person no longer works for PETA—and North Carolina law requires that this person be “trustworthy.” Since nobody could say who he or she was, the question of trustworthiness was an open one.

Besides—who's to say what Anderson actually told this person, if anything? Anderson testified last week that PETA employees told him they were injecting his animals with a sedative, to transport them back to Virginia for adoption. If Anderson asked for PETA's help injecting an animal, might this be what he meant?

It's all academic, as the judge decided that this evidence would be too pivotal to bend the rules and let it in through the proverbial back door. And its authenticity would be a big question mark anyway. The final nail in this coffin came when District Attorney Asbell told Judge Cy Grant that the defense had never shared the report with her office in the first place during pre-trial “discovery.” So after a brief recess, Grant decided that the jury won't hear about it.

I'll Take ‘Frozen Puppies' for $9,370, Alex

Ten minutes after lunch, Nachminovitch read from a January 30, 2004 proposal she wrote, explaining to the Bertie County managers what would be required if they wanted PETA to take over the operation of their animal shelter (an offer they declined). This sentence in PETA's letter made our ears perk up:

“The County should be responsible for the disposal of animal bodies. A large, heavy-duty freezer—a walk-in is preferable—will be needed in order to store carcasses. PETA will split the cost of the freezer with the County”

We noted first how PETA, the group that regularly uses images of animal “carcasses” as rhetorical weapons in its protests, calmly refers to them as though they were frozen turkeys or sides of beef. (Imagine that!)

And then we remembered PETA's 2002 federal income tax return—in particular, the group's declaration that it had installed a walk-in freezer worth $9,370 at its Norfolk headquarters.

Could it be? Does PETA have its own facility intended to “store carcasses”?

Yep.

Defense lawyer Blair Brown asked Nachminovitch to describe some of the procedures that PETA had in place for its animal-killing program. Here's one exchange:

Brown: “What was the procedure that PETA had set up for disposal of animals euthanized in North Carolina?”

Nachminovitch: “We had a contract with Pet Cremation Services of Tidewater.”

Brown: “And what were the CAP [PETA's 'Community Animal Project'] workers supposed to do with the animal bodies?”

Nachminovitch: “Bring them back to the PETA office and put them in the freezer.”

Pet Cremation Services of Tidewater? We'll get to that in a second. But ponder, just for a moment, the concept of a massive walk-in freezer at the PETA headquarters, filled over time with dead animals trucked in from North Carolina.

We've said it before and it bears repeating: If anyone else were amassing a freezer of pup-sicles so nonchalantly, PETA would be protesting it. And probably using the photos to raise gobs of money.

Now on to the pet cremation. Nachminovitch testified that PETA has shelled out a lot of its supporters' donations on this service:

“Pet Cremation Services of Tidewater is a costly service. And so far, we've paid them about $30,000 for cremation over the years.”

Sounds like a huge amount, right? But let's check the math.

The fee schedule for Pet Cremation Services of Tidewater is posted on the company's website. And Nachminovitch is right: It is costly. The least expensive cremation service—for any animal weighing up to 15 pounds—costs $125.

Let's assume that PETA gets a special “bulk” rate of 50-percent off. Let's even round it down. At $60 per animal, PETA's $30,000 (spent “over the years”) would only cover around 500 carcasses.

PETA has reported killing over 14,400 animals since 1998. What happened to the other 13,900 bodies?

The Big Question

If one moment sucked the air out of the courtroom on Tuesday, this was it.

In order to counter PETA's claim that Bertie County Animal Control Officer Barry Anderson was aware the group was killing animals from his shelter, Prosecutor Valerie Asbell came up with a line of questioning that belongs on a future episode of “Law and Order.”

Asbell began by exploring the simple idea that before PETA ever arrived on the scene—in 2000, to pick a year at random—Bertie County, NC disposed of dead animals by burying them in the local landfill. From there, we'll just let the transcript speak for itself:

Asbell: “How was Bertie County disposing of the animals?

Nachminovitch: “Today? Now?”

Asbell: “Then, in 2000.”

Nachminovitch: “I don't know what they were doing with the bodies at that time, that were dead. Is that your question?”

Asbell: “That's my question.”

Nachminovitch: “I don't know.”

Asbell: “All right. But it is your testimony that Bertie County knew that your employees were euthanizing animals in Bertie County. That's your testimony, is it not? ... It's your testimony that [Animal Control Officer] Barry Anderson knew that?”

Nachminovitch: “Yes.”

[ ... ]

Asbell: “Well, let me ask you this. If Barry Anderson knew that, and if [County Manager] Zee Lamb knew that, and the Sheriff knew that—that you, and your employees, including Ms. Hinkle and Mr. Cook, were killing animals in Bertie County—why didn't you just leave the dogs there ?”

Nachminovitch: “No reason.”

It's an excellent question. There was a perfectly good landfill in Bertie County, and it had been used for burying animals before. Yet PETA was in the habit of driving dead animals all the way back to Norfolk—at least a two hour drive—and spending its own money to pay for cremation.

Why do all of that, unless you're trying to hide something from someone?

The Law is the Law

The final minutes of cross-examination today concerned the Virginia law under which PETA operates. We've already heard from the federal Drug enforcement Administration that PETA flouts the law by using controlled substances outside of Virginia, the only state in which it holds a valid license.

Nachminovitch passed the buck on this today, claiming that PETA chief counsel Jeff Kerr told her what her employees—including Adria Hinkle—were doing was perfectly legal. Kerr is on the defense's witness list, so we might be able to watch him tap-dance around this topic soon.

So federal law isn't PETA's strong suit. But is the group running afoul of Virginia law as well?

Maybe. We'll know more tomorrow.

D.A. Asbell raised the issue, and Nachminovitch assured her that “we abide by all laws,” including those covering “humane societies” in Virginia.

PETA, according to the Old Dominion, is technically a humane society. But, Nachminovitch insisted, the group doesn't run an animal shelter:

“PETA does not maintain an animal shelter. PETA has a couple—we call them ‘quarantine rooms'—which are used to house animals that are held for one reason or another. And animals who are, who have a chance for adoption, are usually fostered in private homes. We do not have a public facility that's open to the public where people can stroll through and pick an animal. That's not a service that we are able to provide. We're an office building.”

Fair enough. Anyone looking for help with an actual animal shouldn't come to PETA. They're an office building. We'll all remember that in the future.

But Asbell looked at laws covering “animal shelters,” defined in Virginia in such a way that PETA fits the bill:

… a facility, other than a private residential dwelling and its surrounding grounds, that is used to house or contain animals and that is owned, operated, or maintained by a nongovernmental entity …

After all, they do have those “quarantine rooms.”

Now, Virginia law says that an “animal shelter” has to follow certain rules when “confining or disposing of animals.” And among those rules is this:

An animal confined pursuant to this section shall be kept for a period of not less than five days, such period to commence on the day immediately following the day the animal is initially confined in the facility, unless sooner claimed by the rightful owner thereof.

Translation: PETA has to hold animals for five days before killing them. In the case of Hinkle and Cook, the elapsed time was somewhere between fine minutes and five hours—but nowhere near five days.

Nachminovitch insisted, under oath, that she thought this law only applies to strays. Not animals that someone (whether a person, an animal hospital, or a shelter) surrenders voluntarily. But Asbell couldn't find anything in the law that supports Nachminovitch's claim. Neither could we.

Judge Grant, seeing the clock strike five, said that we'll revisit the issue Wednesday morning. So PETA's legal brain trust will be burning the midnight oil in search of a legal justification for what the group has been doing for years.

Will they find it? Since it appears that Kerr already gave Nachminovitch bad advice about federal drug law, we're betting no. But one way or another, we'll let you know tomorrow.