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Sunday, Sep. 20, 2009

Nunn saga filled with irony, high drama

FAMILIES' PROMINENCE RAISES PROFILE OF MURDER CASE

The Feb. 17 fight that finally ended the stormy relationship between Amanda Ross and Steve Nunn started after Nunn blew off Ross' suggestion to go out for chicken wings the next night.

The two exchanged blows, which was the fifth time Nunn had been violent toward her, Ross told Fayette Family Court Judge Tim Philpot in a March 4 court hearing. A sullen Nunn, who was trying to save his high-ranking state job, promised Philpot he wouldn't harm Ross.

"We had a tumultuous relationship with a lot of ups and downs, a lot of good moments and some just terrible ones," Nunn said. "But I am not a threat to her."

Ross, 29, was gunned down in the pre-dawn light of Sept. 11 in front of her Opera House Square town house. Police have charged Nunn, 56, with the murder and violating the domestic violence protection order Ross received against him in March. Nunn pleaded not guilty on Friday.

In the coming months, the resulting legal saga will likely become a spectacle not seen in Kentucky in modern times, with the collision of two prominent families, each with networks of friends that run in some of the highest political and social circles in the state.

Ross was the daughter of Terrell Ross, the most prominent financier of public projects in the state. Nunn, a Republican lawmaker from 1991 through 2006, is the son of the late Gov. Louie Nunn — an almost larger-than-life figure who was Kentucky's last Republican governor until Ernie Fletcher won in 2003.

"It's hard to say where it all goes from here," said Terry McBrayer, the Lexington lawyer and lobbyist who is friends with the Ross family and knew the Nunns well. "I just hope it doesn't turn into some tabloid display because it's just two very, very fine, strong-willed, prominent families that have come together in this horrible tragedy that's one of the saddest things I've seen in some time."

Adding to the drama is that Nunn could face the death penalty if convicted of the slaying. Ironically, Nunn was among 25 co-sponsors of a bill that became law in 1998. Among other things, it made it a death penalty offense for a person named in a domestic violence order to murder the protected individual.

Now that Nunn has been arraigned, the case goes to Fayette Commonwealth's Attorney Ray Larson, who hasn't commented on whether he will seek the death penalty for Nunn.

Larson, who has long touted his support for the death penalty in his campaigns and on his office's Web site, recently opted for plea deals to conclude two high-profile murder trials — of Shane Ragland, who was accused of killing UK football player Trent DiGiuro, and of Patrick Hutchinson, who pleaded guilty to killing his wife and Lexington firefighter Brenda Cowan.

House Speaker Greg Stumbo, D-Prestonsburg and former Kentucky attorney general, called Larson "one of the best prosecutors in the state."

"I have every confidence that if the evidence bears out that there was premeditation, and the evidence bears out that it qualifies for the death penalty, Ray Larson will pursue the death penalty," Stumbo said.

Living up to legacies

The Nunns have been political royalty around Barren County since Louie Nunn — the son of farmers — rose through the ranks, starting as Barren County judge-executive at age 29. By 1967, he was governor, the only Republican to hold that office between 1947 and 2003.

Steve Nunn followed his father into politics by serving in the state legislature. But he finished a distant third to Ernie Fletcher in the 2003 Republican primary for governor. By 2006, he had lost his state House seat.

"I think the legacy of Louie Nunn was both an asset and a burden to Steve," said Walter Baker, a former GOP state senator and state Supreme Court justice from Glasgow. "I don't think Steve ever escaped the shadow of (Louie's legacy) to really become himself."

Longtime Barren County GOP Chairwoman Golda Walbert said the allegations against Steve haven't tarnished Louie's legacy as a charismatic speaker and skillful politician who risked his future to pass an unpopular two-cent sales tax increase.