Day 86: Trial and tribulation (part 1)

“I think the first duty of society is justice.”

-Alexander Hamilton

 

I absolutely could not believe it!  I opened my mailbox and there it was, a jury summons.  I was a bit conflicted by this invite.  I had always wanted to serve on a jury, but there it was in front of me, the actual summons.  I thought about how this particular week might not be the best week to fulfill my civic duty, but that didn’t matter, the state had already made its random decision.  So, I immediately recognized this as a Quest, a moment in life to live and learn from.

It was Monday morning, I made sure to wear a beige skirt, a light top and a sweater as the morning was a bit chilly and I wanted to look professional yet comfortable. I grabbed my water and a snack and made my way to the 2^nd District courthouse in the middle of downtown Reno.  As I walked to Court, I was a bit anxious. I have never received a summons before and had absolutely no idea what to expect.  I went through security and checked in.

There I sat with my mind aflutter and the questions multiplying by the second.  Suddenly, they called for our group to make their way to Judge Hardy’s courtroom #15.  I entered with approximately 50 people and after some preliminary questions, we were instructed that 24 names would be chosen and then that group would be questioned and a final jury of 12 would be seated.  I had that feeling as if someone was whispering in my ear that I would be called and no sooner than that thought came to mind, my name was read aloud and the bailiff escorted me to my seat.  The question was posed if any jurors did not want to participate.  Many hands went up.  Then the question was posed if any felt compelled to serve and I and two others responded.  The judge asked the two others their reasons and then turned to me and then asked the same question.  I responded somewhat quietly saying, “I believe it to be a great honor to serve.”  The judge smiled, paused and said “Thank you, soft-spoken juror.”  A couple more basic questions were posed and the questioning for the other jurors continued.  Finally at around noon, the judge excused us and when we returned the 12 chosen jurors were called off one-by-one.  Before I knew it, this once shy and sheltered girl became “Soft-spoken juror #11”.

When I heard my name called, I stood for just a second in complete disbelief. I felt as if the blood had just been released from my body, and within a second that emptying feeling was replaced with a great sense of responsibility that had fallen upon my shoulders.  The doubt began to set in, “Could I handle deciding the fate of someone’s life or freedom?”  Before I could contemplate that thought, I was escorted to my juror seat, and we were sworn in and the charges were read out loud….  You could hear a pin drop and then a gasp could be audibly heard from the words, “Severe Child Abuse”.  “Wait!” I thought, that isn’t the case I wanted to work on… that isn’t the testimony I want to hear… that isn’t………

“Why?” I thought rather angrily… why this case, why me? Well, there was no reason to question it at that point.  The jury had been seated and there was no turning back now.  My eyes suddenly moved in the direction of the defendant’s seat.  There he stood, wearing a blue button down shirt, all of maybe his early 20’s and looking as frightened as a lost puppy.  Was that fair to feel that way… empathy for someone accused of committing a heinous crime such as child abuse?  I closed my eyes for a minute and reminded myself to be as impartial as possible to both sides of the case, but to remind myself that there will be no winners in the end.

Before I could take another breath, the jury was excused and we were to return for opening statements after lunch.  Lunch?  How could I eat at this point?  I hardly felt like eating but rather wanted to crawl under a rock and forget my wishes to serve.

Like a scarlet letter, we were all given the “juror’s” badge” and instructed not to discuss the case with anyone including the other jurors.  I then grabbed my bag and made my way out of the court.  The first thing I did was take the deepest breath as if someone had just been strangling me and I needed that surviving breath to live.   I began to walk, knowing that I had a little over an hour before I had to return but not knowing where I was going.

I stopped along the Truckee River in downtown Reno and looked out across the way… the water was exceptionally low but the warm autumn sun highlighted the last leaves on the trees that stood at the river’s edge.  I stood without a thought… just gazing for some inspiration as to why I was doing this awful quest.  Yes, in a matter of minutes, this potentially exciting adventure was transformed to unappealing, and distasteful….  And all I could hope was that my feelings about this were normal.

Just then, I had this thought… nothing happens by coincidence… Nothing!  I made the decision to embrace the quest, however difficult it might be.  I was hopeful and had to trust that there was a good reason I was called to serve on this day, in that courtroom with this case and then I swallowed deeply and decided to tuck my fears away and go get some java to help find my smile.

I indulged in some java and started the long walk back.  Alas, the jury was assembled and we entered the courtroom.  Before I knew it, opening statements began and I felt like I was sucked up into the center of a tornado.  The allegations were appalling… how could a father do such alleged things to his own 6 month old baby boy, named “Luke”?  Little Luke, a baby, in his care, not able to walk, talk or defend himself… left by his sick mother in the care of his father and betrayed with almost the ultimate sacrifice… and in the end, left lifeless and not breathing.  I was glad at that moment that I had not eaten as my stomach felt nauseous and my head hurt from the furrowed brow I could not hide.  My heart broke for a baby boy whose life had little hope for recovery as he was left with less than a 1% chance of not having major brain deficits and currently showing signs of left-sided weakness.  His doctors say that his survival was an absolute miracle but the challenges ahead are almost insurmountable.

The story in brief is such that the very young parents were not married and living separately. The mother, sick with strep throat, called on the father, who had worked a long shift, to help take care of the baby one evening after work.  The father picked Luke up and took him home.  Somewhere in the night the father alleged he tripped up a stair and dropped the baby and the baby fell and sustained bilateral head injuries.  The father stated that when the baby would not stop crying he “spanked” little Luke.  The mother came to pick up the baby the next day and found extensive bruising on the baby’s bottom, legs, flank, both sides of the head, ears, nose, and some bruising on the chest.  After several hours the mother noticed the baby seizing and drove him to the hospital with the baby’s father.  Upon arrival to the emergency room, the baby stopped breathing and was resuscitated.  The staff announced in a determined and stern tone to the mother that her baby had been beaten and was now left to die…  And this is where the world stopped for baby Luke and his mother and the questions of guilt vs innocence became more convoluted.

The baby’s father was questioned the next day and a confession was made. Baby Luke had fallen with the father.  The father confessed that he hit the baby hard on the bottom, which had a diaper on it and pj bottoms.  Hard enough that the evidence showed what looked to be a contused hand print in the deep purple color that saturated the surface area of the baby’s bottom, back and upper legs, as if to leave no question how this child was heinously abused.  The father also confessed that he held the baby in a standing position and let the baby fall several times, in addition to hitting the baby on both sides of his tiny head leaving a subdural hematoma and multiple layered retinal hemorrhages which are indicative of severe head trauma usually associated with shaken baby syndrome.  And yet, there he stood in court, denying the allegations and the confession and claiming his innocence.

The first day of court was a long day and had finally ended and we, the jury, could not talk about the case. But the weight of the world wore on our faces as if the same mask had been placed on each of us.  We walked out of the courthouse together and not a word was spoken as there was nothing to be said.

I let the group go ahead and I stopped at the river.  I decided that I would take a picture every day of the view of the river and the sunset to remind me that despite the evidence presented, and until deliberation, I needed to remember that this young man’s freedom was at stake.  I needed to feel the desperation and the possible loss of freedom he was feeling, in order to properly remain unbiased.  As hard as that thought was after seeing those horrific pictures of baby Luke, I knew this was the right thing to do.  And day one ended and I returned home.

I will admit that baby Luke was ever-present in my mind. When I saw a child at the grocery store, I thought of him.  When I saw a baby stroller, I thought of him.  When I saw a baby commercial, I thought of him.  When I closed my eyes to sleep at night, I thought of him.  It was as if his shadow were with me wherever I went and with whatever I did.  Not a moment went by when baby Luke was not part of my thoughts.  I remember standing in the shower the next morning and tears just streamed from my eyes… it was as if I could no longer hold onto those thoughts and the tears allowed them to escape my mind… Washed away by the warm water that baptized my skin, but when the water stopped the thoughts returned.

The days of testimony and the numerous pictures of baby Luke started to take a toll on me on the third day of jury duty. The entire jury expressed their feelings of being tired, exhausted, and ready for the case to be over with.  Alas, we were told it would take until the end of the week or perhaps even till the following Monday.  Yet, everyday soft-spoken juror #11 made her way to fulfill her civil duty to serve on a jury in a case she never wanted, but for some reason knew in her heart she was meant to be.   I conversed quietly during breaks with the other jurors and we had formed a kinship, all-knowing that it was temporary but making the best of a forced situation.  I took the opportunity to try to learn about the others, and in true fashion asked a lot of questions and befriending several other jurors that found comfort in my genuine curiosity.  We laughed, we talked, we shared lunch, coffee and stories.  We respected each other, we greeted each other, and without words, we understood each other.  All age groups were present, all backgrounds and economic status were represented, yet during this one week we had one very important job to do.  None of us were feeling quite qualified or wanting to be in this situation on this case, but perhaps it was that one commonality that allowed 14 people (12 jurors and 2 alternates) to share their lives with each other with utmost respect and non-judgment.

At the end of the Wednesday, I made my way home at the late 5:30 hour and as I drove I saw a brilliant full moon begin to emerge on the mountainous horizon to the east. I pulled the car over and decided to watch it rise in recognition of my freedom and appreciation of such beauty as seen from outside the courthouse walls.  There it was, bright as could be, and the sky turning from orange to a cornflower blue in just minutes.  I thought about how at the end of the week, a life would be changing either for better or worse and I would have some responsibility in affecting that change.  Was I ready?  Could I do it?  Then I thought of little baby Luke and the answer was clear, I had to return over the next couple of days and digest more testimony and properly sift through the evidence for the truth and deliberate in a responsible way.  And at that moment, as clear as the moon was bright, I knew in my heart I was ready to continue this journey in search of the truth.

Three days of a court case I never intended to be a part of had passed. I was feeling tired, exhausted, heart-broken, but still determined and strong in search of the truth of how little baby Luke could have been left on the doorstep of death but strong enough to defy the odds and be placed in his mother’s arms again.  Reminding myself every night what freedom looks like, how I would feel if it were taken away, in order to appreciate the weight of the decision that lay in front of me.  Closing my eyes on Wednesday night, hoping to wake and realize this was all just a dream, but knowing in my heart, it is all meant to be.

Feeling overwhelmed at the case at hand and emotionally exhausted from conflicting testimony.  I was left with no appetite as the pictures of baby Luke were at the forefront of my mind every minute of every day, leaving my stomach in knots. Having tucked away my fears and concerns, and knowing the gravity of our decision, I was accepting the responsibility of deciding the fate of one person’s life at the expense of a child that has been sentenced to life of debilitation and limitation… Feeling humbled at the responsibility, uncertain still why I was chosen, but determined to use my common sense, experience and moral compass to help seek justice for a baby that never deserved the life sentence he received that fateful December night…

Wishing I didn’t have to wonder where the case will lead…