Jury Druty

I don’t typically have a strong memory of the mundane but my experience with jury duty last year has been rattling around my head all this time. My writing often gets bogged down in the minutiae but I will try stick to the pertinent details.

I was very excited when I received my summons. I had never done jury duty before and I was excited to try something new. Just like every governmental experience, the first day mainly involved sitting… waiting… and more sitting. Luckily, I brought something to read.

Minutes turned into hours until my group of potential jurors was brought in front of the judge and lawyers. They went down the line of about 50 of us and asked what are jobs were and if we had any existing bias that would not allow us to be part of this case. I thought my answers were fairly routine and dozed off while they asked the others similar questions. Finally came the selections. ‘Juror 14 has been selected. Does representation oppose?’ They did not. We were instructed to return at 8am the following morning at courtroom 3. I was not looking forward to driving 45 minutes that early in the morning but the courthouse did have a pretty good coffee place.

I stop by the office on the way home to tell my boss I will be out for at least the next day. She tells me they will probably settle and I’ll be back in no time. She’s probably right because she is usually always right.

I show up the next day 3/4ths asleep. I’m surprised that I am the last of the jurors to arrive as I am pretty punctual. This would be a running theme for the remainder of the trial. It’s funny how an atypical moment with a stranger paints their perception of you. I would spend hours with these 7 strangers that week and they probably thought I was some slacker kid from privilege. That assumption was generally accurate.

Turns out, we were presiding over a murder case! I will try to exclude specific names and details, out of respect for the victims and their families.

A few things surprised me over those next few days. First, how precarious justice actually is. Second, the arbitrary rules of our court system. Third, the role of lawyers.

The defendant was a woman in her mid 30s. She was on trial for the gruesome murder of her husband in their home. The murder took place as the children slept in their rooms up stairs. A kitchen knife, more specifically a cheese knife, was used to stab the victim over 30 times.  We were warned during jury selection that we would see pictures that would be disturbing to some. I balked at that. I have seen my share of R rated movies. None of them had prepared me for what we would see. The foyer and kitchen area of the home was covered in a fairly thick layer of blood. Not movie blood, blood blood. Pictures of the body on site and at the medical examiner. Gruesome does not quite cover it but it’s a good start.

Some interesting details for the defense: 1. She was not arrested until 7 months after the incident. This indicated to us that they did not have enough evidence to convict. 2. The shirt she had on only had a speck of blood on it. How could this be after so much blood was at the scene? 3. The knife that was used tested negative for any of the victim’s DNA. The sink in the kitchen, where the knife was found also tested negative for any DNA. No cleaning supplies were found either.

The defendant’s public defender was squaring off against the Deputy Attorney General of Florida. As the case continued that week, it became clear that the state attorney had more trial experience and was likely more invested in the outcome of the case. Advice to the reader from a juror, if you are ever on trial, spend as much as you can on a good lawyer. It could make the difference between life behind bars & a life of freedom.

The state did a solid job of dismantling the defense. They did not touch on the arrest date but instead focused on the most compelling physical evidence. They actually brought in an expert witness from out of the country to explain to us why a vicious stabbing would not result in the attacker being covered in blood. He explained to us that the more velocity the attacker used when stabbing would produce less splatter. We were floored by how clearly he conveyed this idea and how he held up under questioning from the defense. As I mentioned before, your representation in the court is huge. From the moment the jurors enter the court, the mind games have begun. Which lawyer looks confident? Which looks worried or anxious? The defendant seemed committed to proving her innocence from the very beginning. She was often taking notes during testimony and whispering to her lawyer. All of this would come up while we deliberated the case on the final day.

The knife in question was a serrated cheese knife with two blades. A very strange knife to use in a stabbing as it was only 3 inches long. This was of note as well as several of the wounds had one large impact and one smaller one. This indicated a few things to us. This was not premeditated. If it had been, wouldn’t she have used a more dangerous knife or at least a more practical one. The defense argued that this was circumstantial and they proposed that an intruder could have come in and done the stabbing with an equally serrated and double-bladed knife. Unlikely.

Enter the defendant’s only chance: her boyfriend. The defense did a decent job of building this up. Advice to the reader: Do not assume any of your communication is private. The defense employed a gentleman from the FBI to prove that the boyfriend’s cell phone was pinged miles away at the time of killing. Is it possible that the killer thought to leave his phone at home so it could not be tracked while he broke into the house, without damaging any doors or windows, grabbed a cheese knife and stabbed the victim over 30 times without leaving evidence? Probably not. They also read intimate texts between the defendant and the boyfriend to the courtroom. Extremely personal and explicit texts and phone records. The FBI agent went into extreme detail of how they are able to triangulate someone’s position at any time of the day or night. The defense could not discredit the information, how could they? They still argued that the boyfriend must have just forgotten his phone at home.

The public defender tried to play it cool as the state brought expert after expert to explain why the blood wasn’t on the defendant & that there was no proof that she had killed him. The last arrow in their quiver was that there was no DNA on the supposed murder weapon or the sink in the kitchen or bathrooms of the home. This was interesting but we have all seen enough procedural crime shows to know how to wash away evidence. But still, the piece of the puzzle did linger in the back of my mind.

The final day of the trial came. The defendant never took the stand but the public defender did an admirable job during his closing statement. He noted that the state had no proof that the defendant had committed the crime. The fact was, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Common sense would dictate that she did it. But still, there was a chance that a flurry of coincidences had led to her being accused of murder. A small chance. Maybe 1%. Maybe 0.01%. How much of a doubt can there be? This is someone’s life on the line.

We jurors had been instructed not to discuss the case with ANYONE during the trial, including each other. Needless to say, we were bursting at the seams when they closed the door for us to deliberate.

The eight of us sat around a table to decide this person’s fate. An older white lady who was almost giddy the entire case. Clearly this was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in a long time. A middle-aged white guy who was probably my closest bud. A Spanish lady who brought up Casey Anthony at least a half dozen times. The rest were basically going to agree with whatever the majority decided. We had access to all the evidence that had been submitted so the excited older white lady went through every piece, even the most gruesome pictures and the actual shirt the defendant had been wearing that night and spoke at length about each piece. We acted out the crime went down. The Spanish lady wonder why some of the stab wounds were on the victims back. Our best guess was that the victim tried to run away during the attack but the stabs kept coming.

We talked it through for about two hours. We all generally agreed on a guilty verdict but the Spanish lady kept voicing, ‘what if the boyfriend did it?’ We had no evidence to show that he may have. I stated to everyone that we should go around the room to confirm our verdict. Each person stated guilty, even the Spanish lady. We signaled to the bailiff that we were ready. He lined us up in the hallway and told us, ‘Fere libenter homines, id quod volunt, credunt.’ He explained that this was a Latin quote by Caesar that meant: People almost always willingly believe what you want.

He opened the doors and were led in. Each time we left or entered the courtroom everyone had to stand. The closest thing to a royal welcome I would ever receive, unless the princess of Japan will return my many emails. There were over 5 times more people in the audience than previous days of the trial, many standing as there were no available seats. The judge asked for our verdict and was given a written note from us. The moments that followed hung in the air like stale perfume. Only the defendant and her attorney stood as the judge read, ‘In the case of the State of Florida vs. Defense of the crime of 2nd degree murder we find the defendant… Guilty.’ The defendant let out a horrible cry as the assistant to the prosecution did a fist pump. The audience erupted into applause. So much so that the judge had to bang the gavel and call the court to order. The defendant still wept loudly as her attorney called for a poll. I had not seen this in movies or television so I was not prepared. A poll meant that each juror individually must state to the court and confirm their decision. The judge called on each of us to confirm our guilty verdict. By happenstance, I was called on last. I will never forget that moment. I looked her in the eyes as I said it. Seemed like the least I could do while essentially ending someone’s life. I don’t often cry but I did. I held it back as best I could but the moment was overwhelming. ‘Guilty’

The judge met us in the jurors chambers afterward and made it clear that we are not passing personal judgement. We were only there to decide if the law had been broken. I appreciate his sentiment; however, I find it difficult to separate the human element of the process. If that jury had a few more doubters who may have been jilted by an ex-lover or been otherwise sympathetic to the victim, this could have gone the other way. It comes down to these random citizens and that is a terrifying notion.

The bailiff was instructed to escort us to our cars. As we made our way to the parking structure, a large crowd of about 20 awaited us in the garage. Many of the jurors were visibly scared and the bailiff’s hand was on his gun. The moment passed as an older black woman approached and embraced one of the other jurors. It turned out, they had all been in the courtroom that day and wanted to thank us. It was the victim’s family. They all wanted to thank us for doing what we did. They assured us that they were working on getting custody of the kids. There were a lot of tears. It was a beautiful moment. But as I sat in my car in the moments that followed, I couldn’t bring myself to be happy about the outcome. When it comes down to it, are we really defined by our worst moments? There was nothing fair about it. Just a violent act ending in tragedy, as they often do.