“Guilty.” “Not guilty.” “Not guilty.” “Not guilty.” “Not guilty.” “Not guilty.” My eyes would have opened wide in surprise if they weren’t filling with tears. No, I wasn’t the defendant, or a relative of the defendant, I was one member of a six person jury. I suppose the tears were my reaction to feeling exposed as the lone dissenter or feeling concern over receiving the resentment of my fellow jurors who would now have to return to the courthouse the next day or possibly even feeling self doubt. Was there some reasonable doubt that I had missed?
How did I get myself in this position? Wouldn’t it just be easier to have said ‘OK, fine, not guilty’ and now be heading home without needing to worry about rescheduling Friday plans or who knows, even next week’s plans!
Just this morning as I had taken my jury seat as the final juror selected, I felt proud and pleased to be part of a jury hearing a case and doing my civic duty. As juror number 13 took his seat, I thought idly that I’d not be selected with only one more spot to fill on the jury. But then several prospective jurors were dismissed and in a moment I was seated in the jury box and the judge concluded that the jury selection process was complete. So there I was, feeling pleased to be selected to fulfill my civic duty. If I could have foreseen the events of the afternoon, I doubt I’d been pleased at all.
Waiting in seclusion before the start of testimony, was like being with five strangers in an elevator that unexpectedly, but not alarmingly comes to a stop. We were all quietly ignoring one another until an awkward pause arose. What would everyone talk about when we were forbidden to talk about our only common bond? Of course, our first topic was first the weather (rainy), then the traffic (“boy was the traffic heavy this morning”), then the unintelligible recorded messages we’d received from the courthouse reminding us to appear, then we touched briefly on previous jury experience before feeling we’d gone too far a field among strangers and returned to the comfort of meteorological chatter.
Fortunately they soon brought us in to hear testimony. We all sat quietly and listened to the same testimony. But apparently, the other jurors, after listening along with me and discussing that testimony as a jury, believed there was still reasonable doubt where I saw no reasonable doubt whatsoever. I talked to myself driving home and half the night to ensure I had thought through everything I’d heard in the courtroom and still felt there was no reasonable doubt. So when I returned to our jury room on Friday morning, I felt nervous yet confident. Taking a deep breath I began, “Well as the outlier, I suggest I present what I heard in the courtroom yesterday and then hear where each of your doubts lies to see if we can convince each other one way or the other.”
Not surprisingly, having no alternatives, everyone readily agreed. I began, “Most critically I heard one important instruction from the judge before we retired to begin deliberations. He instructed us that we may use our common sense and our experience to determine from the testimony we heard, what is fact.” Keeping this directive in mind, I told the story as I believed the events occurred. As I spoke, I looked carefully at each juror to see each individual’s reaction. I saw some nods, some interest, and no defiant body language. So rather than continuing my narrative, I asked the jurors to explain to me the doubts they saw that caused them to be vote not guilty. One by one, each juror began with a phrase such as, “you know as I was driving home yesterday I started thinking about…”, or “Thinking this through last night I tried …”, or “Well I know that he wasn't being honest…”. One by one each juror, but one, admitted that he or she did not have any reasonable doubt; each saw the defendant as guilty. Inside I was astonished. Outside I tried to remain neutral.
Clearly everyone else, except the foreman, had changed their minds overnight. But still the foreman seemed to differ arguing that the state, in his words, “just didn’t make its case.” So we all voted again. Again I went first. “Guilty” This time I heard, “Guilty” “Guilty”, “Not Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.” A near reversal—I was stunned. Yet, we needed a unanimous verdict which we didn’t have and so a juror suggested that we would need to tell the judge that we couldn’t come to a verdict. Well that didn’t sit well with the foreman who protested, “I was fine when you (pointing at me) were the odd person out, but I don’t want to be the one who causes us to be a hung jury.” Fortunately, another juror took him to task reminding him that he needed to truly believe the defendant is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt to give a guilty pronouncement. There was a quiet pause in the room. I don’t know what was going through the foreman’s mind at that point, but then he nodded his head and agreed; yes the defendant was guilty. While I may have convinced no one, I felt that I had given the jurors the time they needed to think to come to the right verdict.
I watched the defendant as the verdict was read, “Guilty”. He dropped his head and otherwise showed no emotion. We retired for a final time to the jury room, our conversation now past meteorological happenings. We shared respect not only for one another, but for the process. We felt we had carefully and thoughtfully fulfilled our responsibility both to the state and to one another. We may never meet again, but I will carry that respect I felt with me.
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