IC, I’m going to answer your inquiry in detail since I’m clinically OCD and this has been bottled up inside me for almost two weeks.
Three caveats: Prosecution witnesses exuded professionalism from the stand—but of course they would, even if there may have been chaos at the scene. Also, even though each (and I do mean judge, counsel and prosecutor) stressed emphatically and often that “this is not an episode of CSI”, the characters were classically animated, almost caricatures of their respective roles. I’ll elaborate by your questions below. And finally, I don’t pretend to know the legal field or parameters and constraints of conducting a trial, but I do have common sense.
The cops?
The arresting officers were Cagney and Lacy. I mean “special issue of Penthouse” material. Babes on the witness stand with Glocks on their hips. But straight-up, by-the-book professional law enforcement officers. All testimony (not just from them) eluded to almost over-the-top procedure to the point of coddling this drunk who profusely blamed the family he just mowed down. No wailing of batons. Just the proper steps from the stop, to the cuffs, to transporting to the hospital for blood testing, to booking. Bing bang boom.
The investigators?
The defense had a real James Gandolfini (Tony Soprano) ringer who couldn’t manage playing a DVD in court. We spun our wheels for 45 minutes watching him trying to get that thing to play on a PC. I finally chimed in (probably outside of my scope of allowed court behavior), “Hey, guy. That’s not a playable DVD. It’s a data CD with .mov files that you need Quicktime to play.” Finally gave up and whatever it was he wanted to submit as evidence was scrapped.
The forensics?
CSI was a short George Lopez with Judge Napolitano’s widdow’s peak and Tom Seleck’s mustache. Again, strictly business. He was the guy who walked the 1.3-mile smear of carnage twice, placing at least 75 number plaques next to evidence and taking pics. God bless him, he had to pull the mangled baby’s body from under the truck.
The D.A.?
Alanis Morissette. Great at her job, and she DID get a conviction, but... My visual communication OCD kicked in early. Google maps were dark. I had a hard time grasping time frames and witness perspectives. [In my head: “Do it this way! Map it out! Ask this question!] I actually spoke with her afterwards and she sincerely wants to hear my detailed feedback. Hey, I may find a new graphics niche gig. I don’t think she ever had an objection overruled whereas pretty much every objection by defense was overruled. Which leads me to...
The defense?
Walter Matthau. Epitome of the shyster lawyer. Couldn’t connect with the jury to save his life (or his client’s, apparently). Kept trying to form analogies that just plain made no sense at all. Paced back and forth between his notes on the defense table to the podium with long gaps in between. I found myself enacting a “filter” when he spoke because he often misspoke. “Point A...excuse me, I mean Point B.” GET IT TOGETHER, MAN! It was never established whether he was a public defender or a hired lawyer. If he was paid, I think the defendant was ripped off. There were enough examples of conflicting testimony by key witnesses to seed doubt, but he didn’t pursue that strategy. I could honestly foresee a line of defense that could have gotten the thug off for most charges, but ol’ Frisco blew it, in my opinion. I anxiously awaited his closing argument to see what his defense angle was, only to be floored that he conceded every point of contention and begged for a lower charge of manslaughter. What?
The judge?
Mike Yanagita from Fargo. Spitting image—right down to the smile. This guy knew his stuff, but very human and often humorous. That was HIS court and everyone knew it. He sincerely cared for “his jurors.” He had this gesture he’d use to say it’s us (he and the jury) against them (counsel and prosecutor). The guy next to me (Alternate Juror #2) sometimes fell asleep and started snoring. The judge only had to look at him, then me, then give just the right facial expression that told me to elbow him awake. I really liked the judge.
So my first juror experience (in almost 50 years) was interesting, while frustrating that I never got to deliberate with “the 12.” I felt like that kid always picked last for dodgeball teams. Meanwhile, I missed several important client meetings and the food upstairs was expensive, but digestible. I’m free at last.
The overall experience was positive. I’m glad I was able to fulfill my service. It was real life albeit on the dark side. But it did affect me. I haven’t slept well. I can’t shake the sensation of being on the verge of tears. A trembling volcano of emotion due for eruption. I have 4 kids myself. I gave up watching gory movies years ago. What happened to that little girl was horrifying. It could never be established when she actually died or how much she may have suffered. I can’t fathom the pain of the parents.
I know one thing. As many times in my wayward youth I drove home totally blitzed, I’ll never again get behind the wheel with so much as a jigger in me. And I’ll henceforth look twice, thrice and so on when crossing the street with my kids in tow. One guy in particular is no longer an issue. But there are more like him out there.
Having served on a capital case rape/murder jury (we convicted & gave him the death penalty), I know what you mean about the emotional trauma. Despite the awful things I saw, I can’t imagine having to deal with what you saw. Time is a great healer there. I still pray for the defendent. And for the victim’s family. And for the jury as well. Jury members & witnesses are also victims, having to go over the crime in excruciating detail.
And thank you for your service on the jury.
Why do you say “with malice aforethought”?
Hey thanks. I appreciate the time you put in the response. It was interesting to see a first hand account.