So why write this, then, if it's dangerous?

First, I don't think it is. The circles I run in don't intersect much with the witnesses in this trial.

Second, I realized that this is part of my dance with the dark side -- long walks on the beach poking dead things with a stick.

Third, I decided that the experience was important enough to me to risk whatever happens by writing about it on my obscure little blog.

And fourth, but perhaps most importantly, I'm my father's daughter. He believed in doing what he could to stand up against bullies, whether it was the Hitler Youth of his boyhood, to whom he stood up by not collecting money for them in his neighborhood, or racism in the US South, which he countered by annual donations to the NAACP up till his death. He countered his fears by doing and saying what was in his heart. Now I have too.

When the next chapter unfolds, I will write an update.

Meanwhile, as we discussed at our last lunch as jurors, I'll be focusing on more uplifting aspects of my life now.