Deliberations, day 3, and the verdict

The two jurors who had more than reasonable doubts about proof of the defendant’s guilt had their questions answered by a reading of Michael Peacock’s testimony, oddly more revelatory in the read-back without his meth-fed mannerisms.

Before we adjourned to lunch before our final appearance in court, I told my fellow jurors how much I appreciated the fact that all of us were taking this with the same degree of seriousness, no one was hurrying us to a verdict so we could be dismissed, and no one took the task lightly, even though it inconvenienced all of us daily. It was, I told them, a welcome antidote for the river of sleaze we’d been swimming in for the past 3 weeks. We all agreed we were the kind of jury we’d want for ourselves or a loved one.

At lunch four of us compared reactions over the past 3 weeks. We all found we needed as much beauty and harmony as we could pack in, in order to compensate for all the darkness we’d seen and heard about. The drive to the coast provided that for 2 of us, and a third mentioned how much her garden meant to her now. We all marveled at how, with no real structure or instructions on HOW to do it, we had become a working jury with minimal conflict, and we had come up with a verdict.

After lunch we filed back into the courtroom for the last time. In the gallery, the defendant’s wife and sons held hands and prayed. It struck me that it was too late for that – their prayers should have been said at the time there was a choice about which actions to take. Again, I was reminded of the deity to whom I myself pray, and how incongruous some of my supplications must seem – too little, too late. The defendant himself sat with his head bowed and hands folded. When the foreperson read our verdict, guilty, and the judge asked each of us if that was our verdict, the defendant dropped his head to the table, then looked at us and mouthed, “I didn’t do this.”

The judge thanked us, and we were dismissed. The ADA attempted to shake our hands, something I felt uncomfortable with. We ran a gauntlet of defense team members handing out business cards and asking us to call them to discuss the trial. The youngest juror spoke for all of us when she said, “I just spent 3 weeks of my life on this, I doubt I’ll be talking to you.”

Walking into the hallway a private citizen, I felt like a hot-air balloon that had lost its tether – weightless, suddenly free but not sure which way the wind might take me. I wandered down to see the jury coordinator and get a document saying I really was there all that time. I thanked her for helping us through this experience with such humor and grace. She said we did the right thing, because “There was a lot you didn’t hear.” I told her the experience had been amazing, life-changing really. She smiled as though she heard that a lot.

Sentencing was set for August 14, a Friday.