Twelve strangers now hold Brian Walshe's life in their hands.
After ten days of testimony, after thousands of pages of digital forensics, after photographs that would haunt anyone who saw them, after Google searches that made jurors visibly recoil, after the defense promised Brian would testify and then rested without calling him, it is over. The evidence phase is complete. Both sides have made their final arguments. The judge has given her instructions. And now twelve citizens of Massachusetts are locked in a room, deciding whether Brian Walshe murdered his wife Ana.
Day 10 was the day words became weapons.
Not the kind of weapons Brian allegedly used. Not the hacksaw or hatchet found in dumpsters with Ana's DNA. Not whatever caused the blood that pooled in the basement and soaked through the living room rug. No, today's weapons were arguments. Rhetorical salvos fired by two attorneys who understand that everything they have worked toward comes down to how effectively they can make twelve people believe their version of events.
The defense went first. Attorney Larry Tipton stood before the jury and asked them to consider what could possibly make a loving husband and loving father do the things Brian Walshe admitted doing. He did not deny the searches. He did not deny the lies. He did not deny the dismemberment. He denied only the killing.
What could make a loving father search "how to dispose of a body" at 4:52 in the morning? What could drive a devoted husband to drive an hour to a Home Depot he had never visited, wearing gloves and a mask, paying cash for hacksaws and buckets? What could explain the hydrogen peroxide, the ammonia, the Tyvek suits, the trash bags that ended up in dumpsters across Massachusetts?
The defense says the answer is not murder. The answer is sudden, unexpected, incomprehensible tragedy followed by panic, fear, and catastrophically bad decisions.
The prosecution says that is absurd. ADA Yas stood before the same jury and painted a very different picture. A marriage in crisis. A wife having an affair. A husband facing federal prison. A man who needed Ana dead because he could not survive losing her. Not emotionally. Financially. He needed her money. He needed to avoid prison. And he needed to silence the woman who might leave him.
Ana Walsh is dead, the prosecutor told the jury. Ana Walsh is dead because he murdered her.
Not missing. Not the victim of sudden unexplained death. Murdered. By the man who promised to love her. By the father of her three sons. By the man who then cut up her body and threw her in the trash.
This is what the jury must now decide. Not whether Brian lied. He pleaded guilty to that. Not whether he disposed of Ana's remains. He pleaded guilty to that too. The only question remaining is the one that matters most: Did Brian Walshe kill his wife?
First-degree murder means he planned it. Deliberate premeditation. He thought about killing Ana, decided to kill Ana, and then killed Ana. Life without parole.
Second-degree murder means he killed her, but without that planning. Maybe something snapped. Maybe he intended to hurt her, not kill her. Maybe he did something so reckless that death was virtually certain. Fifteen years to life.
Not guilty means the prosecution failed to prove its case. It does not mean Brian is innocent. It does not mean Ana died of natural causes. It means the state could not convince twelve people beyond a reasonable doubt that Brian caused her death.
There is no manslaughter option. The defense did not ask for it. That was the gamble revealed in yesterday's charge conference. All or nothing. Murder or acquittal. The defense bet everything on reasonable doubt.
Now we wait.
The morning began with Judge Freniere delivering the first part of her instructions to the jury. These are not suggestions. These are not guidelines. These are the legal rules the jury must follow. And the judge made absolutely clear where the burden lies.
Every person accused of a crime is presumed innocent. Brian Walshe is presumed innocent. He does not have to convince the jury he is innocent. He does not have to testify. He does not have to call witnesses. He does not have to explain anything. The burden is entirely on the Commonwealth. That burden never shifts.
The judge then explained what the prosecution must prove. Not that Brian is probably guilty. Not that he is likely guilty. Not even that he is almost certainly guilty. The standard is proof beyond a reasonable doubt. Moral certainty. The highest degree of certainty possible in human affairs.
If the jury evaluates all the evidence and a reasonable doubt remains, the defendant is entitled to the benefit of that doubt. He must be acquitted. It is not enough for the Commonwealth to establish a probability, even a strong probability, that Brian is more likely guilty than not guilty. That is not enough. The evidence must convince the jury of guilt to a moral certainty.
This matters. This is constitutional bedrock. This is what separates a civilized justice system from mob rule. The prosecution bears the burden. The defense bears none. If the state cannot meet its burden, the defendant walks free regardless of what anyone thinks probably happened.
The judge then explained the elements of murder. For first-degree murder with deliberate premeditation, the Commonwealth must prove three things beyond a reasonable doubt.
First, that Brian caused Ana's death. Not that she died. That he caused it.
Second, that he intended to kill her. Not that he intended to hurt her. Not that he acted recklessly. That he consciously and purposefully intended to cause her death.
Third, that he committed the killing with deliberate premeditation. He decided to kill after a period of reflection. He considered whether to kill. He decided to kill. And then he killed.
The judge explained that premeditation does not require any particular length of time. A decision to kill can be formed over days, hours, or even seconds. But the key is the sequence. First, consideration. Second, decision. Third, action. There is no deliberate premeditation where the action is taken so quickly that the defendant has no time to reflect.
If the jury cannot agree unanimously on first-degree murder, they must consider second-degree murder. For that, the Commonwealth must prove Brian caused Ana's death and either intended to kill, intended to cause grievous bodily harm, or intended to do an act that a reasonable person would know created a plain and strong likelihood of death.
Those are the legal standards. Cold, precise, technical. Now the attorneys would try to breathe life into them. To make the jury feel, not just think, their way to a verdict.
Defense attorney Larry Tipton rose first. His voice was measured. His tone almost mournful. He began not with evidence, but with a question.
What could make a loving husband and loving father do the things you heard about in this case?
The government suggests an affair. There is no proof Brian knew about any affair between Ana and William Fastow. The government suggests money troubles. The family had been working together for years to protect assets, talking in text messages about property sales, planning for the future of their three children. The government suggests fear of prison. Brian knew prison was always on the table. He faced up to it. He pleaded guilty to his federal art fraud case. There is no evidence he was so desperate to avoid prison that he would kill his wife.
Tipton asked the jury to consider something different. Something sudden. Something unexpected. Something that only a medical examiner would understand, but that would be terrifying to a layperson like Brian. Sudden unexplained death. It happens. Dr. Atkinson said so. Young people. Healthy people. People who show no signs of illness. Their hearts simply stop.
How do we know Brian was a loving husband and father? Tipton pointed to the evidence. Gem Mutlo, Ana's friend and former colleague, testified about the love between these two people. Julie Basler, the kindergarten teacher, described how Brian would show up interested in his children's progress, always friendly, always engaged. And most powerfully, Tipton reminded the jury, Ana trusted Brian with their three children twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, while she was working in Washington DC.
If Ana believed Brian was dangerous, would she have left her children with him?
The Commonwealth must prove a homicide occurred. A killing. And there is no proof of that, Tipton argued. There is evidence Brian lied to police. There is evidence he searched the internet for disturbing things. There is evidence he disposed of a body. But there is no proof, in all the evidence the jury heard, that he ever once thought about harming the woman he loved.
Without motive, Tipton argued, you have sudden and unexpected tragedy followed by confusion, panic, and fear. The things Brian did were terrible. Horrific. But people do terrible things not out of guilt, but out of fear. Out of disbelief. Out of confusion.
Tipton acknowledged the elephant in the room. Brian's recorded interviews with police. The lies he told. The stories he invented. He told police Ana left early that morning for a work emergency. He told them his son saw her leave. None of it was true. But lying to police, Tipton reminded the jury, is not murder. Brian pleaded guilty to misleading investigators. That crime has been resolved. The question before this jury is different.
Then Tipton turned to the searches. The heart of the prosecution's circumstantial case. Those Google queries that began at 4:52 a.m. on January 1, 2023. How to dispose of a body. How long before a body starts to smell. Best way to dismember a body.
Everyone reacts to those words. The jury certainly did. But Tipton asked them to think about context. If Brian began searching with murder in his heart, because he had just killed Ana, then why was the first search about disposing of a body, not about disposing of a body after murder? The word "murder" does not appear in those searches until six hours later. Six hours of frantic, confused searching about bodies and decomposition and disposal before the word murder ever appears.
That is not a man who just committed murder. That is a man who just discovered something horrifying and does not know what to do. A man changing search terms because he is not finding the answers he needs. A man in crisis, not a man who created a crisis.
Tipton walked the jury through the digital evidence. 1,034 pages of data from Brian's MacBook. 3,667 records. Not one page, not one record, refers to any plan to harm Ana. Not one suggests intent to kill. There are searches about disposal. There are searches about cleaning. There are searches that make your skin crawl. But there is nothing about how to kill someone. Nothing about weapons. Nothing about planning a murder.
The knife. Exhibit 201, 202, 203. Found in a kitchen cabinet above the refrigerator. The prosecution wants the jury to think about it as a murder weapon. But consider where it was found. In a cabinet. In plain view. Days after the alleged murder. If Brian used that knife to kill Ana, why was it still in the kitchen when police arrived? He threw bags and bags of evidence in dumpsters. He drove to multiple locations disposing of remains. But he left the murder weapon in a kitchen cabinet?
More importantly, Tipton reminded the jury, that knife was tested. Initial screening did not prove it had blood on it. Further testing was never done. Everyone lost interest. The Mass State Police. The crime lab. If this knife was the murder weapon, why did the state abandon it?
What is the evidence that something violent happened in this house? Tipton walked the jury through every room. The upstairs bedroom. Nothing found. The bathrooms. Sinks, basins, showers, all examined. Nothing found. The kitchen. Nothing but a knife everyone lost interest in. The living room. Nothing. The master bedroom where Brian and Ana slept. Nothing. Even what appeared to be red-brown stains on curtains turned out not to be blood.
Trained forensic examiners spent days in that house. They tested with chemicals that can detect blood at concentrations of 20 nanograms per milliliter. A nanogram is one billionth of a gram. They used this extraordinarily sensitive test throughout the house. And they found nothing. Nothing except blood stains in the basement.
If Brian cleaned the bedroom so well that no trace remained, Tipton argued, then how did he fail to clean the basement where blood was found? You cannot have it both ways. Either he is a master cleaner who eliminated all evidence from every room, or he is a panicked man who could not even clean the basement floor. The searches show him specifically researching how to clean concrete. He tried. He failed. Blood remained on that floor.
The logical inference, Tipton argued, is not that Brian murdered Ana elsewhere and cleaned perfectly. It is that nothing violent happened anywhere in that house until after Ana was already dead. Until Brian took her body to the basement and the terrible reality of what he was doing caused blood to appear.
Tipton addressed the evidence of the affair. The prosecution wants the jury to believe Brian knew. They point to text messages between Ana and William Fastow. Disturbing messages. Messages that might enrage a husband. But ask yourself, Tipton said, is there any evidence in all that digital data that Brian ever saw those messages?
Brian mentioned something about "I-messenger" in his interview with police. He was confused. There is no such thing as I-messenger. He was talking about Facebook Messenger. But the important point is that nowhere in the digital forensics is there evidence Brian accessed those messages between his wife and her lover.
And consider what happened on New Year's Eve. Ana was taking photographs all night. At one point, in the presence of Brian, she suggested sending a photograph to Will Fastow. Did Brian react? Did he explode? Did he show any sign of jealousy or anger? No. Gem Mutlo testified that the festive celebration continued for another two hours. Brian did not react because he was not jealous. Ana told her friend Alyssa Kirby that Brian was not the jealous type. She wished he was more jealous.
So the motive for this alleged killing is anger over an affair that Brian apparently did not even know about? An affair that his wife openly referenced on New Year's Eve without any reaction from Brian?
Tipton then turned to the medical evidence. Dr. Atkinson, the medical examiner called by the prosecution, testified about sudden unexpected death. It happens. It happens in young and old. Male and female. People who have never shown any symptoms. Athletes. Healthy people. Their hearts stop. And the laws of Massachusetts mandate that the Chief Medical Examiner investigate such deaths.
Is it rare? Yes. Is it bizarre? No. The state has a statute requiring investigation of sudden unexplained deaths because they happen. Dr. Atkinson said so. That is not defense fantasy. That is prosecution evidence.
Tipton painted a picture for the jury. Brian and Ana spent five hours together on New Year's Eve. Enjoying life. Talking about the future. Laughing. Gem Mutlo described it beautifully. Brian standing across from the island, feeding both of them. Talking about plans. Champagne. Joy.
Then tragedy struck. Something sudden and unexpected. And Brian panicked. He could not believe it. He could not understand it. And he did not think anyone else would believe it either. So he made the worst decisions of his life. Decisions he pleaded guilty to. Decisions that brought him to this courtroom.
But those decisions, as horrific as they were, do not prove murder.
Finally, Tipton pointed to the champagne box. Exhibit 169. Signed by Ana and Brian on January 1, 2023. The very day the prosecution says Brian murdered Ana. The words on that box are devastating to the state's theory.
"What a year. And yet we are still here and together. Let's make 2023 the best one yet. We are the authors of our lives. Courage, love, perseverance, compassion."
Those are Ana's words. Talking to her husband about the future. On the same day she allegedly died at his hands. And Brian made dinner reservations for them that night. He researched restaurants. He reserved a table at Nightingale, an upscale restaurant, for $573.76. Why would a man planning to kill his wife make dinner reservations?
Brian Walshe loved Ana Walsh. There is no evidence he deliberately premeditated a murder. There is no evidence he ever intended to kill her. None whatsoever.
Mr. Walshe is not guilty.
The prosecution rose. ADA Yas had approximately forty-five minutes to counter everything Tipton had just said. She wasted no time.
Ana Walsh is dead. Ana Walsh is dead because he murdered her. And he intended her death.
Ana is not missing. She never walked out of her Cohasset home on January 1, 2023, to take an Uber to Logan Airport. There was no work emergency. She did not say goodbye to her sons. That is just a story Brian told people.
Since January 1, Ana has not been seen by her friends. Her coworkers. The people who loved her. She has not taken an Uber. She has not taken a Lyft. She has not used her phone. Her phone had no contact with the Verizon network after January 2, 2023. She has not used her bank accounts. Her passport. Her credit cards. Her email.
Ana did not vanish. The defendant was the only adult in that house after Gem Mutlo left around 1:30 a.m. After Gem left, Ana was home alone with Brian and their three sons, ages two, four, and six. Brian caused Ana's death. And the evidence shows you that.
The evidence shows that Ana did not die of natural causes. The evidence shows that Ana died a violent death in her Cohasset home on January 1.
Look at the photographs. Those pieces of rug recovered from the dumpster at Brian's mother's complex. The rug that had been in the living room. The rug Ana was photographed standing on. There is blood on that rug. The rug was cut into pieces, taken to the compactor, recovered by investigators, and examined by the medical examiner.
Dr. Atkinson found a blood clot and a piece of Ana's Gucci necklace embedded in one of those cutout pieces of rug. The necklace did not break on its own. The rest of it is missing. This is the necklace Will Fastow said Ana often wore.
Look at the slippers from the dumpster. Two pairs of adult slippers. The dark gray slippers had hair and blood clumped to them. DNA testing shows they contained the DNA of Ana Walsh and the DNA of the defendant. The towels had Ana's DNA. Why did Brian throw these items away? Because they had Ana's blood on them.
The evidence shows this. The defendant was researching cleaning. How to clean blood from wood floors. Does the dishwasher clean blood. Is it possible to clean DNA off a knife.
The defendant had a cut on his thumb on January 9. And on January 1, before he even went to Lowe's to buy cutting instruments, his initial stop was Walgreens to buy antibiotic ointment and bandaids. Then he went to Vin and Liquors, where the manager identified him. He threw a bag into the dumpster. The parking lot was empty. He had not yet gone to Lowe's.
On January 2, Brian went to HomeGoods. To buy a new rug for that living room. To cover the hardwood floor. He did this days before forensic scientists got to the house. The scientists knew the rug had been changed.
Ana dying a sudden death from natural causes defies common sense. She was in great shape. Brian told police Ana was a "sturdy Serbian woman." Mark Saji from the life insurance company told the jury that Ana had the highest health rating. She had to complete interviews, have blood drawn, provide medical records. The underwriters gave her their top rating. Ashley Samina, her barre instructor, said Ana made others want to work harder. Will Fastow said Ana was very active, did yoga. Sergeant Amy Waterman described Ana's home gym in DC.
Dr. Atkinson told you it is extremely rare for a healthy 39-year-old to suddenly die of unknown causes. But without a body, no autopsy can be done. And why is there no body? Because the defendant deliberately got rid of Ana Walsh's body.
The defendant did not want anyone to find Ana's body and to know how she died. So he bought cutting tools at Lowe's and Home Depot. He cut up Ana's body. The woman he claimed to love. And he threw her into dumpsters. He was hiding her body.
The defendant intended to kill Ana. He did not just want her dead. He needed her dead.
This was a marriage in crisis. And it was heading toward a breaking point. It began with the defendant's federal fraud case. You learned that Brian was on home confinement. He would have to pay over $400,000 in restitution. The case had been pending since 2018. He had no assets. He told Gem Mutlo he only made $50,000 to $60,000 that year. His businesses were not making money. His mother signed the lease for the Cohasset home. His mother was paying his rent.
Meanwhile, Ana was thriving. The marriage was deteriorating. Ana had her dream job at Tishman Speyer. She was making close to $300,000 a year. She earned a bonus. She bought a townhouse in DC and furnished bedrooms for each of her three boys. But the reality was her family could not join her because Brian needed the children with him. Being the primary caregiver allowed him to avoid prison.
The separation was taking a toll. Ana wanted the children with her. Ana began a relationship with Will Fastow that became more serious. Brian and Ana were growing apart emotionally and physically. Ana struggled not having her children and not being able to be the mother she wanted to be.
This got worse when Ana took a trip to Serbia to care for her sick mother. Ana and Will Fastow spent the Thanksgiving holiday in Dublin first. Ana bought the plane ticket with the credit card Brian monitored. Brian told police he monitored their joint Chase Freedom statement. The MacBook history shows Brian looking at the Chase account. Brian knew about Ana's travel.
Brian was angry about Ana missing Thanksgiving. He mentioned it repeatedly to investigators. He got angry about Thanksgiving. He realized he was sad they were not spending time together.
On Ana's return from Serbia, she only spent one day in Cohasset. She was supposed to come home for Christmas morning but missed her flight and had to drive. Brian told police they argued about Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve.
So what did Brian do on Christmas Day when his wife was not home? He looked up Will Fastow on his phone. The man his wife had just spent the night with.
Brian was losing Ana. Ana was missing her children and wanted them. She returned to DC quickly. On December 27, Brian was searching for the best strategies to divorce for a man. DC divorce laws. This was not to protect assets. That was not the search. Brian told police everything was in Ana's name. Brian had nothing without Ana and the kids.
On December 29, Ana spoke with Gem Mutlo and said she was upset. Upset about travel. Upset about being separated from the children. Upset about Brian's federal case. It was ongoing. It was getting to be too much.
On December 29, Ana went out with Alyssa Kirby. And this strong Serbian woman who was supposed to be having fun, going to karaoke, broke down. Ana told Alyssa she had told Brian he needed to take responsibility for the federal case. Go to prison. She wanted the children with her in DC. They had not been intimate in close to a year. In Ana's mind, the marriage was broken. Ana even questioned whether she could just take the children since she had already established a separate household. She said she was falling out of love with Brian.
Brian was going to lose Ana. And when he lost Ana, he would likely lose his freedom. Ana would have a house in DC and a nice job. He would likely go to jail. So Brian pretended. He lulled Ana into thinking everything was okay. He joked with her about a Porsche. He did not want her to realize that he was aware of her relationship with Will or her ability to leave him.
On December 31, Brian claimed he could not find his phone. Why is that important? The mislaid phone allowed Brian to be unavailable for two days. It allowed him to carry out his plan uninterrupted. And it allowed him to show police when he eventually reported Ana missing that he could not have contacted her because his phone was lost.
The evidence shows Brian was methodical. Look at how he shopped at Lowe's. With a list. He planned it with precision.
Gem Mutlo came for dinner on New Year's Eve. Brian told Gem his phone was lost. It was freezing. Ana was texting throughout the night, including with Will Fastow. This was now the third holiday where Ana was concentrating on the other man in her life.
When Gem left, Ana was alive. She was with Brian. The man she was cheating on. The man she was telling to take responsibility. The man who had her children.
Brian murdered Ana that morning in their Cohasset home. And this is what the internet history shows. His written words. Best way to dispose of a body. Better to throw away crime scene clothes or wash them. Crime scene. Can you be charged with murder without a body.
Ana was dead. Brian killed her. And he began researching how to get away with the crime. He might have gotten away with it. But he did not know that his MacBook was syncing with his son's iPad. The same Apple ID. His demeanor changed during the January 8 interview when police mentioned the searches on the iPad. Not because the iPad involved his children. He had already involved the children in his lies. His demeanor changed because he knew he was caught.
He had already involved the six-year-old when he had the child say he saw his mother leave the house. The son could not have seen Ana leave. Brian had already killed her.
The phone made a reservation at Nightshade Noodle Bar for New Year's Day. The defense points to this as evidence of innocence. But Brian told police on January 7 that he and Ana had no plans for New Year's Day. And look closely at Exhibit 170. The message about the Nightshade reservation was deleted on January 1 at 7:59 a.m. and 5 seconds.
This is one of the times the phone was unlocked when it was supposedly missing. The forensics show the phone was unlocked four times and plugged in on January 1. The password was 97512. The oldest child's iPad password was 121212. The children did not unlock Brian's phone. Brian blamed the misplaced phone on his children. But it makes no sense that a four-year-old somehow unlocked Brian's phone and deleted that text reminder.
Look at his internet history. Want to get away with murder, use a special detergent. Can you be charged with murder without a body. Best way to dispose of body parts after murder. When you deliberate, look through that binder of MacBook internet history. There are no searches about natural causes of death. No searches about heart attacks. No searches about aneurysms. No searches about strokes. No searches about how to help your children when someone dies unexpectedly or goes missing.
Brian was not sad. Look at his demeanor in the surveillance videos. Cool and calculating. Calm. He had plans. On January 1, he went to a Lowe's store an hour away, even though there were hardware stores a mile from his house. He wore a mask and gloves. He had a shopping list. He was calm as he helped bag his purchases. Hacksaw. Buckets. He used cash.
Does this show confusion, panic, or fear?
Then CVS to buy hydrogen peroxide. Stop and Shop for ammonia. No wonder the house was so clean. On Monday, January 2, HomeGoods for rugs and candles. Home Depot for buckets with lids, baking soda, and a hatchet. He got a call from his probation officer and calmly lied, saying he was picking up his children. No panic. He had everything he needed to dismember the woman he supposedly loved.
This was not a man in crisis. This was a man who on January 4 went to TJ Maxx to buy pants. He was hungry. But Alyssa Kirby texted him asking about Ana. So he called Tishman Speyer a few minutes later and started pretending to look for her. He called Will Fastow but did not leave a message. He called back later and calmly left a voicemail.
Brian knew where Ana was. He texted his sister in Canada that she was missing. He was methodical. At 4:30 p.m. on January 4, he went to Lowe's to buy a trash can. He was comfortable. He knew police would come to the house soon to talk about Ana. And he had the house ready.
Police thought his wife was in DC. He had his story ready. He sent text messages to Ana even though he knew she would never see them. On January 2, he texted her: I still love you. Haha. Miss ya.
Brian prevented anyone from ever finding Ana's body. There will be no autopsy. Dr. Atkinson told you the medical examiner cannot perform an autopsy without a body. All that remains of Ana are a few hairs. Some blood. Part of a necklace she often wore. Her Hunter boots. A black jacket. A purse. Items from the dumpster near his mother's apartment.
Brian searched his MacBook for murder conviction without a body.
Please do not allow the defendant's self-serving act of dismembering and disposing of his wife's body to let him get away with this murder. At the start of this trial, we asked you to use your common sense. When you do that, when you analyze the evidence as you deliberate, you will see there is only one verdict.
Find the defendant guilty of the premeditated first-degree murder of Ana Walsh.
After both closings, the judge sent the jury for a brief break. Then came the final instructions. The rules that would guide their deliberations.
Judge Freniere explained their role. The jury must be fair, impartial, and unbiased. They must not let emotions, prejudice, or personal feelings influence their decision. They must not be influenced by the nature of the charge or the possible consequences of their verdict. All parties stand as equals before the bar of justice. The fact that a case is brought in the name of the Commonwealth does not entitle the prosecutor to any special consideration.
Then came a critical instruction. Brian did not testify. The jury may not hold that against him. He has an absolute right not to testify because he is presumed innocent. It does not matter why he did not testify. It is not relevant. The fact that he did not testify is not evidence. The jury may not consider it or even discuss it in deciding this case.
The judge explained how to evaluate witnesses. The jury has wide latitude. They can believe everything a witness says or nothing at all. They may accept parts of testimony and reject other parts. If witnesses conflict, the jury must resolve that conflict and determine where the truth lies.
She explained expert witnesses. Dr. Atkinson and the forensic specialists had specialized training and experience. But that does not put them on any higher level than other witnesses. The jury is free to reject their testimony and opinions in full or in part.
She addressed the graphic photographs. Some are unpleasant. Some are graphic. The jury's verdict must not be influenced by the fact that photographs are disturbing. Brian is entitled to a verdict based solely on evidence, not one based on pity or sympathy for the deceased.
The judge explained circumstantial evidence. The Commonwealth may prove its case with direct evidence, indirect evidence, or a combination. Indirect evidence does not directly prove something is true. But it is evidence from which the jury can logically conclude something. Drawing inferences is natural. But inferences must be based on facts, not guesses.
Then the judge turned to consciousness of guilt. This was crucial. There was evidence suggesting Brian made intentionally false statements before his arrest and took steps to conceal Ana's body. The judge stressed she was not suggesting he did so. But if the jury finds the Commonwealth proved he lied to police or concealed the body, they are permitted to consider whether such actions indicate feelings of guilt. And whether such feelings might tend to show actual guilt on the charge.
But they must exercise great caution. There may be numerous reasons why an innocent person might do such things. Such conduct does not necessarily reflect feelings of guilt. A person having feelings of guilt is not necessarily guilty in fact. Such feelings are sometimes found in innocent people. The jury may consider this evidence along with all other evidence. But such evidence is never enough by itself to convict.
The judge addressed the prior bad acts. Brian was convicted in federal court for art fraud. He lied to police. He disposed of Ana's body. He lied to his probation officer. The jury may not take these acts as a substitute for proof that he committed murder. They may not consider them as proof he has a criminal personality or bad character. They may consider them only for the limited purpose of motive, state of mind, intent, plan, or absence of mistake. They may not use them to conclude that if he committed these other bad acts, he must have also committed murder.
Finally, the judge gave them instructions on deliberations. They must keep discussions secret. They should not take votes before discussing the evidence. They should listen to each other. They should not be shy about sharing their views. They should not be afraid to change their minds if the discussion persuades them.
But they should not accept a decision just because other jurors think it is right. In the end, each juror must decide for themselves.
The clerk randomly selected four alternate jurors. The remaining twelve would decide Brian's fate. Judge Freniere appointed juror number 138 as foreperson. The verdict slip offers three options: Not guilty. Guilty as charged of murder in the first degree. Guilty of murder in the second degree.
And then, at approximately 3:00 p.m. on a Friday afternoon, twelve citizens of Massachusetts began deliberating whether Brian Walshe murdered his wife Ana.
They deliberated until 4:00 p.m. when the judge sent a note asking if they wanted to stay until 4:30 or return Monday. They chose to return Monday. They are not sequestered. They will go home, spend the weekend with their families, and return to continue deliberations on Monday morning.
Brian Walshe will spend the weekend in jail. Waiting. Wondering. His life in the hands of twelve strangers.
Ana Walshe's family will spend the weekend waiting too. Two years after she disappeared. Two years after her life ended in that Cohasset house. They wait for something that might be called justice.
Three little boys will spend the weekend not knowing whether they will ever see their father again outside of a prison visiting room.
And we wait. All of us who have watched this trial unfold. Who have studied the evidence. Who have listened to the arguments. We wait to see whether the system works. Whether reasonable doubt means something. Whether the burden of proof is real or just words.
Let me be honest with you. If you only watched the prosecution's closing argument, you would be convinced beyond any doubt that Brian Walshe murdered his wife. The narrative was tight. The evidence was damning. The emotional weight was crushing.
ADA Yas painted a picture of a man losing everything. His freedom, because of the federal fraud case. His wife, because she was falling out of love with him and had found someone else. His children, because Ana was about to take them to DC. His financial security, because everything was in Ana's name. A man with nothing left to lose except the woman whose death might actually solve all his problems.
The Google searches are devastating. There is no interpretation of "best way to dispose of a body" that is innocent. There is no reason an innocent man researches "can you be charged with murder without a body" unless he knows he has committed a murder and disposed of the body. The progression of searches tells a story. First, disposal. Then cleaning. Then covering tracks. Then checking whether he can be caught.
The physical evidence is powerful. The rug that was in the living room, now in pieces in a dumpster, with blood and a piece of Ana's necklace embedded in it. The slippers with hair and blood clumped to them, DNA from both Ana and Brian. The hacksaw and hatchet with Ana's DNA. The hydrogen peroxide and ammonia purchases. The new rug bought to replace the one that presumably had too much blood to clean.
The timeline is suspicious. Brian claims his phone was lost on New Year's Eve. Yet the phone was unlocked four times on January 1 and plugged in. The dinner reservation text was deleted at 7:59 a.m. that morning. A four-year-old did not do that. Brian did.
And the demeanor. The prosecution emphasized this repeatedly. Watch the surveillance footage from Lowe's. Cool and calm. Wearing gloves and a mask. Paying with cash. Using a shopping list. Helping bag his purchases. A hacksaw. Buckets. The tools he would use to dismember his wife's body. And he looks completely unbothered.
If you watched only that closing, you would convict.
But that is not how the system works. The defense gets to speak too. And Tipton asked questions that do not have easy answers.
If Brian planned this murder, why is there no evidence of planning? No searches for how to kill someone. No research on weapons. No digital footprint of a man thinking about murder. Just a man who suddenly, at 4:52 in the morning, begins searching about disposing of a body. If he planned to kill Ana, would the first search really be about what to do after?
If Brian used the knife in the kitchen cabinet to kill Ana, why was it still there days later? He disposed of bags upon bags of evidence. He drove to multiple locations. He threw away rugs and slippers and clothes. But he left the murder weapon in a kitchen cabinet above the refrigerator? In plain view?
If Brian cleaned the bedroom and living room so thoroughly that no trace of blood remained, despite testing that can detect blood at one-billionth of a gram, how did he fail to clean the basement floor? The searches show he specifically researched cleaning concrete. He tried. But blood remained. You cannot argue he is both a master cleaner who eliminated all evidence and a panicked amateur who could not clean up the basement.
If Brian knew about the affair and was enraged by it, why did he show no reaction when Ana suggested sending a photograph to Will Fastow on New Year's Eve? Gem Mutlo testified the festive celebration continued for two more hours. Ana told her friend Brian was not the jealous type. Where is the rage the prosecution claims motivated this murder?
And the champagne box. Those words. "What a year. And yet we are still here and together. Let's make 2023 the best one yet." Written by Ana. To Brian. On the same day she allegedly died at his hands. Does that sound like a woman afraid of her husband? A woman sensing danger? A woman whose marriage is irretrievably broken?
The jury saw two completely different stories. Two interpretations of the same evidence. The prosecution sees a calculated killer who methodically eliminated his wife and covered his tracks. The defense sees a panicked husband who discovered something horrifying and made catastrophically bad decisions because he was terrified no one would believe him.
Both stories explain the evidence. Both are internally consistent. The question is which one convinces you beyond a reasonable doubt.
This case is about more than Brian Walshe. It is about how the system is supposed to work.
My father, Steven M. Askin, spent his life teaching people that constitutional protections are not technicalities. That the burden of proof is not negotiable. That the presumption of innocence is not optional, even when the charges are horrific.
He was twice prosecuted for those beliefs. First for refusing to violate attorney-client privilege. Then for teaching people their constitutional rights from a coffee shop. The system came for him because he demanded it operate fairly.
This trial is a test of everything he believed in.
The prosecution has presented a powerful circumstantial case. The Google searches are damning. The physical evidence is disturbing. The timeline is suspicious. Brian's behavior after Ana's death was, by any measure, monstrous. He dismembered his wife's body. He threw her in dumpsters. He pleaded guilty to those acts.
But none of that proves he killed her.
The burden is on the Commonwealth to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Brian caused Ana's death. Not that he probably did. Not that he likely did. Not that common sense suggests he did. They must prove it to a moral certainty.
Judge Freniere explained this clearly. It is not enough to establish a probability, even a strong probability, that Brian is more likely guilty than not guilty. That is not enough. The evidence must convince the jury of guilt to a moral certainty. A certainty that convinces their understanding and satisfies their reason and judgment.
If reasonable doubt remains, Brian is entitled to the benefit of that doubt. He must be acquitted.
This is hard. It is supposed to be hard. We do not send people to prison for life because we probably think they did something. We send them to prison because we are certain beyond a reasonable doubt.
The defense has raised doubts. They may not be compelling doubts. They may not be persuasive doubts. But they are doubts. No evidence of planning. No evidence Brian knew about the affair. No murder weapon that was actually tested and connected to the crime. No blood anywhere in the house except the basement. No witnesses. No confession. No body.
Are those doubts reasonable? That is for the jury to decide. Not me. Not you. Twelve citizens who heard all the evidence and will deliberate in private.
Whatever they decide, the process matters. The judge gave the instructions correctly. The burden was placed where it belongs. The defense was allowed to argue its theory. The jury will decide based on evidence, not emotion.
That is how the system is supposed to work. That is what my father spent his life defending.
We have now heard ten days of testimony in this trial. Dozens of witnesses. Thousands of pages of evidence. Hours of recorded interviews. Photographs that will haunt anyone who saw them. Google searches that made the courtroom recoil.
And it all comes down to one question: Did Brian Walshe kill his wife?
The prosecution says yes. They say the evidence is overwhelming. The searches. The timeline. The disposal. The lies. They say no innocent man does what Brian did. They say common sense tells you he murdered Ana because he was losing everything and her death solved all his problems.
The defense says the prosecution has not proven it. They say Brian is a man who made catastrophic decisions after discovering something horrifying. They say sudden unexplained death happens. They say panic and fear can make people do terrible things. They say the evidence shows disposal and coverup, not murder.
There is no manslaughter option. The defense did not request it. This was the gamble revealed in yesterday's charge conference. All or nothing. Murder or acquittal. If the jury believes Brian killed Ana but is not convinced it was premeditated, they cannot compromise with a lesser charge. They must either convict of murder or acquit entirely.
That decision will shape the rest of Brian's life. First-degree murder means life without parole. He will die in prison. Second-degree murder means life with the possibility of parole after fifteen years. He could eventually be released. Acquittal means he walks free, having already served time on the charges he pleaded guilty to.
For Ana's family, any verdict is incomplete. No verdict brings her back. No verdict explains what happened in those predawn hours. No verdict gives her mother or her friends the closure they desperately need. If Brian is convicted, they know their daughter's killer will spend his life in prison. If he is acquitted, they must live with the knowledge that the man they believe killed her walks free.
For those three little boys, the verdict determines everything. They have already lost their mother. A conviction means they lose their father too, permanently or for at least fifteen years. An acquittal means the man accused of murdering their mother remains in their lives. There is no good outcome for them. There is only less bad.
And for the rest of us, this case raises questions about evidence and proof and reasonable doubt. How certain must we be before we take someone's freedom forever? Is circumstantial evidence enough when it paints such a damning picture? Can a man who dismembered his wife's body ever be believed when he says he did not kill her?
These are not easy questions. They are not supposed to be easy. That is why we have juries. Twelve people who must sit with the evidence and the arguments and the weight of what they are being asked to decide. Twelve people who must reach a unanimous verdict.
They began deliberating today. They will continue on Monday. And at some point, they will emerge with a verdict that changes lives forever.
Deliberations have begun. The jury worked for approximately an hour on Friday afternoon before breaking for the weekend. They will return Monday morning to continue.
Watch for how long they deliberate. This is a complex case with significant evidence. A very quick verdict, same day or early the next day, typically suggests the jury found the case clear. They either believed the prosecution's case was overwhelming or they believed the defense raised sufficient doubt. A quick verdict usually favors whichever side had the more compelling closing argument.
A longer deliberation suggests genuine disagreement. Some jurors may believe Brian is guilty while others have doubt. The longer they discuss, the more likely there are holdouts on one side or the other. Multi-day deliberations can be agony for everyone involved, but they often indicate the jury is taking its responsibility seriously.
Watch for jury notes. Jurors sometimes send written questions to the judge asking for clarification on legal issues or asking to review specific evidence. The content of those notes can reveal what the jury is focused on. Questions about premeditation might suggest they believe Brian killed Ana but are uncertain about the degree. Questions about burden of proof might suggest some jurors have doubt. Questions about specific evidence might reveal what is driving their debate.
Watch for the demeanor of counsel and the defendant when the jury returns. Lawyers who have been through many trials can often sense which way a verdict is going to go based on how long the jury deliberated and how they look when they return. Watch Brian's face. Watch his attorney. Watch the prosecution. Body language in those final moments before a verdict is read can tell a story.
And watch for the verdict itself. There are three options on the verdict slip:
Not guilty. The jury was not convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that Brian killed Ana. He would be released after serving whatever remains on the charges he already pleaded guilty to.
Guilty of murder in the first degree. The jury found that Brian killed Ana with deliberate premeditation. Life without parole.
Guilty of murder in the second degree. The jury found that Brian killed Ana but without premeditation. Perhaps something snapped. Perhaps he intended to hurt her, not kill her. Life with the possibility of parole after fifteen years.
There is also the possibility of a hung jury. If the jurors cannot reach a unanimous verdict, the judge will declare a mistrial. The prosecution would then have to decide whether to retry the case. Brian would remain incarcerated on his existing convictions while that decision was made.
Whatever happens, this trial has reached its conclusion. The evidence is in. The arguments are made. The instructions are given. Now we wait. For the twelve strangers who hold Brian Walshe's life in their hands to emerge from that deliberation room and tell us whether they believe, beyond a reasonable doubt, that he murdered his wife Ana.