AKRON, Ohio -- Damian Bradford, the greedy young drug dealer who shot and killed Dr. Gulam Moonda, will stand before jurors sometime this week and swear to tell the truth.
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Lawyers for Donna Moonda will call him a thug and a murderer who would say anything to save himself. They know that undercutting Mr. Bradford could be Mrs. Moonda's only chance for an acquittal or hung jury in her murder trial.
Mrs. Moonda, 48, of Mercer County, is on trial for her life, accused of hiring 25-year-old Mr. Bradford to kill her husband. Mrs. Moonda and Mr. Bradford were carrying on an affair at the time of the murder in May 2005.
Donna Moonda and her mother, Dorothy Smouse, witnessed the shooting that took the life of Dr. Moonda. The three of them were driving from Mercer County to northwestern Ohio when Mrs. Moonda suddenly pulled off the Ohio Turnpike, into an emergency parking lane. She says her husband had decided he wanted to drive.
They had just passed a rest area five miles before. An exit was three miles ahead. But Mrs. Moonda opted for the emergency pull-off, she said, because there the stop would take only a few seconds.
As the switch of drivers was about to occur, Mr. Bradford pulled in behind them. He demanded Dr. Moonda's wallet, which Donna Moonda was carrying in her purse. Terrified, Dr. Moonda retrieved his wallet from his wife and handed it over.
Mr. Bradford says his real mission was murder, not highway robbery. He shot Dr. Moonda in the face and sped away.
Early in the investigation, Mrs. Moonda told police she had no idea who the killer was. They knew about her affair with Mr. Bradford and pressed her about whether he was involved. Mrs. Moonda insisted he was not.
She did not realize then that investigators from the Ohio State Highway Patrol would be able to track Mr. Bradford's movements -- and hers too -- by analyzing their cell phone calls on the day of the murder.
When a mobile phone is used, the tower that connects the call is logged on the customer's bill. If somebody is driving, his calls may link with a series of different towers along the route of travel.
Mr. Bradford made or received 89 calls and text messages the day of the murder. Mrs. Moonda was involved in 23 -- eight calls and 15 text messages.
Highway patrol members subpoenaed the pair's phone records and painstakingly sorted out those communications. Tower tracking showed that Mr. Bradford drove north from his Beaver County home about six hours before the murder. Mrs. Moonda drove south about the same time. They met at a halfway point near New Castle.
Later phone tracking showed each of them heading west, in separate vehicles, from Pennsylvania into Ohio.
Her lawyers say her meeting with Mr. Bradford and their calls are evidence of their affair, but not of a murder conspiracy. Mr. Bradford, though, says Mrs. Moonda planned the murder and recruited him to carry it out.
He says her first idea was for Mr. Bradford to kill the doctor at his mosque in Youngstown, Ohio. Mr. Bradford says he even followed Dr. Moonda to the mosque, but thought the plan too risky.
Later, he said, he agreed to an equally bizarre scheme by committing the murder on the turnpike, where he had to stop to pay tolls during his escape.
Mr. Bradford says his motive for murder was money. Dr. Moonda, a urologist, had an estate worth millions of dollars.
In previous court appearances, Mr. Bradford has been smooth and well-spoken. He also has lied on the witness stand.
Pennsylvania state police arrested him on a steroids charge while investigating him for the murder of Dr. Moonda. Mr. Bradford sought probation after sitting in jail for six months in the steroids case. When he testified on his own behalf he said: "I'm not a bad guy. I have not involved myself in violent crime."
Lawyers for Mrs. Moonda are likely to throw that comment in his face when they cross-examine him about killing Dr. Moonda.
Roger Synenberg, Mrs. Moonda's lead attorney, has gone on the attack any time a witness mentioned Mr. Bradford. Mr. Synenberg used those occasions to bring up Mr. Bradford's small-time drug-dealing ventures and the various lies and false alibis he gave early in the Moonda investigation.
While tearing into Mr. Bradford, the defense has tried to characterize Donna Moonda as a love-struck, middle-aged housewife who stupidly began an affair with a much younger man.
"Damian was street smart. Donna was naive," Mr. Synenberg said.
Federal prosecutors say there was nothing innocent about Mrs. Moonda. In court filings, they said she made her mother, Mrs. Smouse, a witness to murder and even put her in the line of fire.
Mrs. Smouse attended court regularly during jury selection, but has not been at the trial since testimony began. Prosecutors did not list her as a witness, even though her early accounts of the murder differed from her daughter's.
Police said that Mrs. Smouse initially described the killer as a black man. She was correct, as Mr. Bradford is African-American.
Mrs. Moonda, though, said she could not determine the shooter's race. Later, Mrs. Smouse altered her story to say she was not sure the killer was black, police said.
Many of Dr. Moonda's colleagues and friends attended the trial last week. On an emotional level, the prosecution's strongest witness might have been the doctor's nephew, Dr. Faroq Moonda.
A trim, intense man of 32, Faroq Moonda testified about his love and admiration for Gulam Moonda, who essentially raised him. Faroq Moonda moved from India to Pennsylvania when he was 14.
Faroq Moonda, now an anesthesiologist in the Youngstown, Ohio, area, also testified that Donna Moonda lied repeatedly. After the murder, she talked of her wonderful marriage. Then Faroq learned from the newspapers that she was involved with Mr. Bradford.
When listening to others testify, Faroq Moonda often rests his head on his hands and leans forward, intent on capturing every word. His presence at the trial is a constant reminder of the victim.
Near the courtroom one morning last week, Faroq and Mr. Synenberg stepped into the hallway at the same time. After an uncomfortable moment, Mr. Synenberg spoke.
"Good morning, doctor," he said.
Faroq Moonda returned the greeting, then stood quietly until the courtroom opened and Donna Moonda's murder trial resumed.
