Loopier by the Minute

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Having worked in the legal profession as long as I have (11 years this month, dear god that makes me feel old), I thought that being on a jury would be sort of ho-hum and boring.

It probably would have – but this was a criminal case, in federal court.  Not your garden variety DUI, not a repeat offender, but a 28 year old woman. 

We found her guilty, and that was fucking tough to do, or at least it was for me.  I think it was the right decision, but it was emotionally exhausting.  It was especially wrenching when, as the verdict was read, the defendant put her head down in her hands.  I couldn’t tell if she was crying.  It was hard to look at her.  Because despite the fact that she was guilty, my heart still ached for her.  She and her husband were young and broke.  She had a gambling addiction.  She was a bank teller, he worked at a bookstore. 

I don’t really know where the line was.  I don’t know what made her do what she did.  She probably had help, somewhere, but ultimately, the responsibility was hers.  Her supervisor at the bank was probably around my age, and seemed like someone I could be friends with.  The DEFENDANT seemed like someone I could be friends with.  The prosecutor seemed to badger the witnesses unnecessarily (none of them were belligerent or hostile in any way, including the defendant herself).  The investigators on the case came across as either marginally competent or just plain assholes.  But when it came time to reach a decision, the evidence was unmistakable….but the jury had to review all of the paperwork to see that, because the case presented in court was not nearly conclusive.

Being in the jury box was also frustrating, in a way, because I didn’t get to see everything I wanted to see (not all of the notes and things that witnesses consulted were actually admitted into evidence) and I couldn’t ask clarifying questions.  (Plus, the paralegal running the computer was totally not as good at it as I am, but she did have kind of an interesting format with her exhibit list, and I really want to call her and get her to email that shit to me.  I felt that these thoughts were somewhat inappropriate given the circumstances, but I guess I can’t totally shut off my usual courtroom thought processes just because I’m in a different role.) 

Deliberations were pretty emotional.  There were only two of us (one of them being me) who didn’t vote “guilty” right off the bat.  The questions left after hearing witness testimony and seeing the exhibits which were really shown to us at hearing certainly created reasonable doubt, at least in my mind. 

Everyone on the jury seemed reasonably intelligent….and we were all very vocal about our opinions.  From what we saw at hearing, the investigation railroaded the defendant to a degree….and in the jury room, I was feeling a little railroaded.  In criminal cases, the verdict has to be unanimous (civil cases are usually a majority).  If you can’t all agree, a mistrial is declared and they have to do it all over again.  When you are one of the two dissenting votes, there is definitely some peer pressure to just see things their way and just vote guilty and let’s all go home, okay?

For the most part, even though everyone was loud and opinionated, the jurors were respectful of one another.   One of them, though, really made me want to cry and strangle her at the same time.  As the two of us who dissented were going through our list of questions that we felt needed to be answered before we just agreed to deprive someone of her liberty, and as some of the jurors were answering our points and showing documents around, one woman (who was probably in her late 30s-early 40s) starts saying “ding! Ding! Ding!” after the points raised by fellow jurors.  And she was being downright…giddy…about it.  It was at that point that I said “I’m not saying she can’t be guilty, but I’m saying that if we are planning to put this woman in jail, we shouldn’t be gleeful about it.” 

Of course, she claimed she wasn’t being that way, but she fucking well was.  Plus, deliberations are not about getting to be “right”…they are about reviewing the evidence and reaching a collective decision.  I felt like she wanted to “win” rather than actually listen to any counterargument. 

The other person that got to me was a guy about my dad’s age….who forcibly reminded me of my dad at his worst.  He was pretty congenial the rest of the time, but he was definitely convinced of her guilt and being almost abusive in his proclamation of this fact. 

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when people are judgmental.  I shouldn’t be surprised by meanness, by hate, by minds that seem welded shut to any viewpoint but their own.  It just seems so strange to me when people can’t put themselves in someone else’s shoes, or at least try to.  Maybe I just tend to root for (and identify with) the underdog.  I grant you, if the person accused of embezzlement was some sort of high-paid executive, I probably would have been less initially sympathetic.  Then again, I could see how someone in that position might get desperate.  Or at least, how they could perceive that they are desperate.  Addictions and bills and financial difficulties can happen at any income level, any race, any gender.  There is always the desire to maintain the front that everything is fine, everything is great, no problems here, even in the face of evidence to the contrary.  

There was discussion at the trial about the defendant being ashamed of her financial situation, ashamed of her gambling habit, ashamed of how her termination and subsequent prosecution had affected her family, particularly her mother (who worked at the same bank from which the defendant embezzled funds.)  The one time she broke down on the witness stand, it was when she talked about the day she got fired and how, even though her mom was just yards away, she couldn’t walk by her office on the way out and tell her in person what happened. 

That was tough to listen to.  Despite the rest of her story being less than true, I think that part was honest.  That was raw. 

The experience was certainly interesting, and it was not at all what I had expected.  In a way, it makes me glad that all I see are fights over money…but also makes me even less inclined to think that what I do is all that important.  The outcomes of our cases may affect someone’s quality of life, but they don’t fundamentally alter its course. 

I had a really hard time sleeping last night.  Even though I’m sure that the decision was correct, I kept running over everything in my head.  The judge came in and talked to us after the verdict, and she said that she almost expected a mistrial.  Which, of course, made me feel like I should have held out longer, should have questioned more….even though the jury looked at all the evidence and discussed it in detail.  I’m always plagued with the “what ifs”. 

I can only hope they recede in time.