Streamline to Justice
Jury Duty
The first and only round of jury duty notices went out.
Agnes looked at the new notice with curiosity. It said to plan on a full day
and bring any necessary medications as a precaution. “Shouldn’t there be a part
here for how to get excused?” she asked her cat, Doofus. He was entirely
unsympathetic.
Agnes showed up on the appointed day. She was running late.
The rain had backed up traffic and she wasn’t used to driving to this end of
town. After searching her purse, the guard directed her to a room on the second
floor. Eleven other individuals turned and looked as she entered the room. The
two small children playing on the floor ignored her. The group appeared
composed of everything from a business executive to a cowboy and of course, the
mom. Agnes had done jury duty before. Normally there was always a large room
full of people. They’d wait around all day until their number was called, or
they’d finally be sent home. Perhaps she was in the wrong place?
Looking around, she saw the same jury notice tucked into the
book of the thin faced young man with the glasses. Resigned, she took a seat
where she could watch the door.
A few minutes later a woman came in with a clipboard, a stack
of stapled papers, and a folded stack of clear bags. “Now that you’re all here,
let’s get started. Please take out your photo ID and have it ready. I’ll be
coming around to check your name on the list and give you your packet and
‘locker’. You will have the next hour to read your packet and sign the
last page. All electronic devices will go into the bag provided. Please turn
them off before placing them in the bag. You will get them back at the end of
the day.”
Each of them was given a small magnetic nametag with their
juror number to fasten to their shirts ‘left side please’.
The woman with the two children tentatively raised her hand.
“Excuse me. I have small children. There’s been a mistake.”
The woman with the clipboard ignored her. “Please read
through your packet. If you still have questions after you finish, I will be
happy to answer them. The restroom is through the door on the right. There’s a
small break room with vending machines and a drinking fountain on the left.”
“I’m going to be late for my meeting,” said the man in the
expensive looking suit. “Who do I need to talk to around here?”
“As I said, you need to read your packets. The state
appreciates the sacrifice you’re making in doing your civic duty.”
When it was Agnes’s turn, she got a quick glimpse of the
clipboard. There were exactly twelve names on the list. Her name was checked
against her ID. It was returned to her with a stapled packet. Her name was on
the cover. She was juror number one. The clear bag was already labeled ‘Juror
1’.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” said the woman. She left, pulling
the door closed behind her.
They all flipped their packets to the first page. “Juror’s
Guide to Proposition 973B – Streamline to Justice.”
“Oh hell no!” said the man in the business suit. “They’re
not roping me into this bullshit! I have things to do.”
“I don’t have a babysitter,” wailed the young mother.
“The neighbor could only watch my Rosie for a few hours,”
said an older gentleman with a heavy Russian accent. “I am her caregiver. They
cannot do this.”
“According to the good voters of this fine state,” said the
young man with the book, “They can. Everyone wanted streamlined justice to save
taxpayer dollars. No jury pool. No postponement or disqualification. Welcome to
the future.” He flipped to the last page and scribbled his name. “I don’t need
to spend the next hour reading to know we’re screwed.” He placed the packet on
the chair next to him and returned to his book.
Agnes made a valiant effort. She even got out her reading
glasses. She couldn’t help it that she kept drifting off around page five. She
wasn’t the only one that jerked awake when the door clicked open again.
“I trust everyone had time to finish their packets? I’ll
just collect those signature pages and then I’ll take any questions.”
Agnes (and a few of the others) hurriedly signed the final
page. The woman gathered the pages, checking off each one as she went. This
time Agnes caught a glimpse of her name tag ‘Estelle Alvarez’.
“I’m sure I’m repeating what you’ve already read,” said
Estelle, “But the new law requires a recap in case anyone has literacy issues.
You have been chosen as a random sample of the local demographics for this jury
trial. As per the new law, child care will be provided. For any of you with
other caretaking duties, I will give you a form to fill out and the state will
meet these obligations for you as you serve as agents of the court. Further, as
a temporary agent of the court, you will be paid the current wage for said
position. Taxes, of course, will be withheld. As soon as we finish any of the
additional paperwork, the accused is waiting for his streamlined justice.”
The young mother tried not to cry as she filled out the form
Estelle handed her. The Russian gentleman was not as restrained.
When they finished, a cheerful looking woman wearing a
blouse festooned with teddy bears appeared to claim the two young children. “I’ll
take good care of your children, Juror 4. We’ll have a fun day together; won’t
we girls?” The two children looked confused. They didn’t start wailing until
they reached the door and realized their mother wasn’t with them.
Agnes, of course, was Juror 1. The agitated man in the nice
suit was Juror 2. The young man with the book was Juror 3. Juror 4 was the
young mother. Juror 5 had not spoken yet to anyone. He was tall, rangy and
deeply tanned, wearing worn cowboy boots. Juror 6, was young and fit and wore a
skin tight belly shirt that hid nothing. Juror 7 had a deeply lined face and
wore faded jeans and an old army jacket. Juror 8 too wore a nicely tailored
suit. She’d put her smart phone down only long enough to sign the paperwork
before returning to her texting. Juror 9 wore coveralls and boots and had dirt
worn into his calloused hands. Juror 10 looked like she’d accidentally been cast
in the wrong movie. She wore sky high heels and a silk pantsuit. Juror 11
looked tired and resigned. She wore a t-shirt with the name of a local
restaurant chain and broken down sneakers. The Russian man who still wiped
tears for his Rosie, was Juror 12.
At the door, a guard with a security scanner screened them
for contraband electronics and took their bags. As they watched, the bags were
sealed and placed on a small cart. They followed Estelle out of the room and
down the hall. The bathroom and refreshments were pointed out in the room they
went through. The door on the far side opened onto the jury box. In numerical
order, they filed in and took their seats.
The Trial
The courtroom was mostly empty. There was a stenographer.
The defendant sat at a table with one man. The prosecutor sat at her own table.
Guards were stationed around the room. The oddest thing, really, is that where
the audience would typically be contained only cameras.
“The proceedings are being broadcast,” said Estelle. “If the
judge needs to address any issues off camera, she has only to pause the feed.
Not to worry. Your faces will not be visible at any time during this trial. You
will only be referred to, if at all, by your juror numbers.”
A black binder was on the table in front of each seat. “This
is your evidence folder,” she continued. “All exhibits are contained in the
binder. You will be allowed to take the binders into deliberations when the
time comes. We will collect them at the end of the day.”
Agnes held up her hand. “I don’t understand. This isn’t how
it happens on television.”
“Technically, after today, it is,” said Estelle. “Analysis
of previous trials indicates that most jurors find the scientific evidence too
complicated to use in making a reasoned decision. All physical evidence in this
case was presented to a panel of top scientists. Each tab in your binder will
show you the key evidence as well as the conclusion of our scientific panel
with a translation to layman’s terms. The accused has been presented with this binder
for review and he and his attorney have agreed to accept the information as
presented.”
“Then why are we here?” demanded Juror 2.
“You still have the traditional rights and responsibilities
of a jury,” said Estelle. “You may choose to reject the evidence presented. You
may find your vote swayed by the statements of the prosecuting attorney or defending
attorney. The prosecutor will make her statement first. After a brief break,
the defending attorney will make his statement. You may ask the judge any legal
questions at that time. Then you adjourn for deliberations. If there are no
further questions, let’s begin.”
“What if we refuse to participate?” asked Juror 2.
“If you refuse, you can be held in contempt of court and
could potentially face jail time of your own. Is there anything else?”
“All rise for the Honorable Judge Angelina May,” called the
guard near the front of the courtroom.
The jury all stood, as did the defendant and the attorneys.
The judge was a petite woman with short, dark hair. Her
expression was grave. She took her seat. “Everyone but the jury may be seated
at this time," she said.
Each juror dutifully raised one hand with the other over
their hearts and swore that they would follow the laws of the land and the
instructions of the court.
The prosecutor took the floor first. “You find before you
Leon Marcus. He is accused of the brutal rape and murder of Lindsay Blackwell.
Per Exhibit One, we will now play the footage from the parking garage. This
footage has not been digitally altered in any fashion.
The crime played out in all its brutality. There was no
sound, but the terror on her face and silent screams were still wrenching. The
footage was black and white and somewhat grainy, but it was still very clearly
the defendant stalking and ultimately destroying Miss Blackwell.
Several of the jury members were openly distressed by the
time the video screen went black. A few were in tears. The defendant was smiling;
like someone watching a particularly enjoyable home video.
The next exhibit went through the autopsy and litany of
injuries suffered by Miss Blackwell. At the end of that section, Juror 6 raised
her hand. “I need a break,” she said.
Judge May called a general fifteen minute break. The jurors
were admonished to not discuss the case in the meantime. No deliberation was to
happen until both sides had completed their statements.
Everyone took advantage of bathroom breaks. A few had coffee
or tea. No one was interested in eating after the images they’d just seen.
Returning from the break, the jurors were reminded that they
remained sworn in.
The final section of the binder was a copy of the
defendant’s written confession. He denied nothing. Not only did he admit to
every detail, he’d embellished his statement with how much he enjoyed the chase.
“The defendant, Leon Marcus, has shown utter indifference
for human life and a demonstrated enjoyment of human suffering. For the
protection of the citizens of this state, we ask that the defendant be found
guilty of all charges and sentenced accordingly. Lindsay Blackwell’s young
daughter will grow up without a mother. Nothing can restore this loss. At least
give this child the closure of knowing the accused will never walk free to hurt
another living being.”
After another admonishment to not discuss the case, the jury
was given an hour long break. Lunch was catered in. Two guards stood silently
in the room to enforce the rule about not discussing the case. What little talk
there was mostly concerned the weather and forthcoming movies.
After lunch, they filed back into the jury box and took
their seats. This time the attorney for the defense took the floor. “Yes, the
crime was tragic. My client does not deny his guilt in this matter. We ask that
you hear the circumstances of his life that brought us to this tragedy.
A story was painted of a neglected and abused child. The
parents had both been heavy users of drugs. By his tenth birthday, he’d been
indulging with the rest of the family. Of course the binder had indicated that
while he was a regular drug user, no drugs had been in his system at the time
of the crime.
“Because of my client’s childhood of neglect and abuse, we
ask that the jury recognize his inability to make responsible moral judgments. Parental
deviance left him incapable of expressing the remorse he truly feels in his
heart.”
The defense attorney did his best, but his client’s behavior
did nothing to help his case. Throughout the heartfelt statement, Leon leered
at the female jurors making obscene gestures with his tongue.
The gavel came down and the bailiff cleared the court. Judge
May turned to face the jury. “All of the factual information relevant to this
case is available in your binders. You are only to consider the facts as
provided; not any allegations from the media outside of this trial. You will
face charges if found accessing any electronic devices prior to the conclusion
of these proceedings. If you have any questions during your deliberations,
knock on the door and the bailiff will bring me the question. I will send a
written response. The footage from the parking garage is available for review.
If your deliberations continue long enough, you may request an evening meal.
Are there any questions?”
Juror 4 timidly raised her hand. “What about my girls?
They’re going to need dinner and they have a bedtime.”
“Your children are being cared for. I assure you their needs
are being met. Are there any other questions?” asked Judge May.
The jurors said ‘no’ or shook their heads.
“Very well. You may adjourn to the juror room and begin your
deliberations. I look forward to your verdict.”
The Vote
“I’m ready to vote now,” said Juror 2. “This has already
taken enough of my time. We all know he’s guilty as sin. So he had a rough
childhood, boohoo. He wasn’t the first person to have shitty parents.”
“But if his parents really treated him like that, maybe he
couldn’t help it,” said Juror 10. “If you raise someone like an animal, what do
you expect?”
“Excuse me,” said Agnes. “Shouldn’t we decide if we think
he’s guilty or not and then talk about the penalty stuff? If we don’t think
he’s guilty, we don’t need to continue.”
“I think the penalty does matter,” said Juror 8. “If we say
he’s guilty, he goes to jail. What if he really needs treatment, not
punishment?”
“I plan to take my time and read through the evidence,” said
Juror 5. “Ya’ll can do what you want. I’m not voting before I have time to
think about it.” He opened his binder to page one and slowly began reading.
Reluctantly, the others joined in. Soon the only sound was
the slow turning of pages.
Halfway through the book, Juror 4 turned pale and slammed it
closed. “He’s a butcher. I want to vote now. I don’t need to read every detail.
Please, let’s do this. I want to get back to my babies.”
When Agnes looked up, everyone was staring at her. “You’re
the foreman,” said Juror 2. “You have to call the vote. Are you going to do it
or not?”
Agnes pulled the list of charges out of her packet. “I guess
we should go through them one at a time,” she said. “It says we can vote how we
want – either anonymously or through a show of hands. What do you want to do?”
For the first time Juror 7 spoke. “Let’s do a show of hands.
Only cowards need to be anonymous.”
Everyone agreed on the majority of charges. Leon Marcus had
most certainly sexually assaulted an unwilling Lindsay Blackwell. They agreed
on battery. They agreed on the theft of her purse. They agreed that Leon Marcus
had been directly responsible for her death.
Agnes started down the list of aggravating factors. Without
meeting at least one, a murder conviction would lead him to life in prison; not
the death penalty.
“We don’t know he intended to cause her death,” said Juror
7. “The coroner’s report says the direct cause of death was asphyxiation. If he
didn’t know her nose was bleeding, he wouldn’t have known she couldn’t breathe
through her nose.”
“He tortured her,” wailed Juror 4. “You saw what he did.”
“Rape and torture are not the same things,” said Juror 7. “He
didn’t hit her until she struggled. If she hadn’t struggled, her nose wouldn’t
have been bleeding.”
Juror 4 leaned away from Juror 7. He seemed oblivious to the
judgmental looks from the rest of the panel.
“But he was lying in wait in the garage,” said Juror 6.
“He wasn’t lying in wait for her,” said Juror 9. “He said
she caught his eye and he couldn’t control himself.”
“Do you want him to get away with this?” demanded Juror 11.
“No ma’am,” said Juror 5. “What I want is to follow the
letter of the law. If there aren’t aggravating factors, he can’t be sentenced
to death.”
“Are you saying his assault wasn’t heinous, cruel or
depraved?” said Juror 6.
“Most everything he did with her has been done between
consenting adults at some point,” said Juror 7. “I agree he acted without her
consent. I don’t believe he intended that she die.”
“Are you soft in the head?” asked Juror 6. “Any reasonable
person knows that if someone is bleeding from their nose, they can’t breathe
through their nose. Too bad she didn’t just bite it off; would have given him
something to think about.”
“I want to send a question to the judge,” said Juror 8. “Can
you be ‘lying in wait’ if it isn’t for a specific person?”
There were many nods of agreement around the table. Agnes
wrote the question on a piece of paper and knocked on the door. The bailiff
took the note, closing the door again behind him.
The bailiff returned after a short time. The note included a
legal definition and nothing more.
“He wasn’t ‘lying in wait’,” said Juror 9. “The video show
he stand out in open. He not hide.”
“Well he didn’t do it for money, she wasn’t a child, and no
other victims were injured,” said Juror 3.
“I think I have it,”
said Agnes. “It’s on page 163. ‘The defendant unlawfully and intentionally,
knowingly, or with universal malice manifesting extreme indifference to the
value of human life…’.”
The others flipped to the page. “Maybe he didn’t know she
couldn’t breathe. He didn’t care either. Look at his confession. He says he
liked it when she struggled,” said Agnes.
They all looked over at Juror 7. “Fine. I agree. He wasn’t
trying to kill her, but he didn’t care if she died either.”
Finally, they had their unanimous vote. Agnes carefully
filled out the form and signed it. The bailiff would take it to the judge and
soon enough this mess would be over and they could all go home.
The Sentence
Food was brought in while the jury waited to be summoned
back to the courtroom. Only Juror 7 appeared to enjoy his meal. The rest picked
at their food.
“What’s taking so long?” asked Juror 10. “I have a cocktail
party tonight. I am not wearing this!”
Agnes flipped through the jury instructions. “Um, it says
they have to give the defendant and attorneys time to return to court for the
formal reading of the verdict. Oh my…which I have to do. I don’t understand.
Why can’t the judge just read it?”
“Who cares about your party?” said Juror 12. “My Rosie won’t
eat for anyone but me. She is afraid someone will try and poison her.”
Every head turned when the door finally opened. “They’re
ready for you,” said the bailiff.
The group filed back to their original seats. Most looked
anywhere but at the man they had voted to condemn. When Agnes inadvertently
looked that way, she saw that same smirk he’d carried through the video from
the parking garage.
“Please stand,” said the bailiff. They all rose again as
Judge May entered the courtroom. The Judge settled into her chair and the
bailiff gestured for them to return to their seats.
“Juror 1, I understand the jury has reached a unanimous
verdict. Is this true?” asked Judge May.
“It is, Your Honor,” said Agnes quietly.
The bailiff carried the document from the Judge to Agnes.
“Please proceed,” she said.
“We the jury, empowered by this great state, do hereby find
the defendant, Leon Marcus, guilty on all charges,” said Agnes.
Judge May asked each juror in turn to confirm their votes of
guilty. They all agreed.
“And what find you for aggravating factors?” asked the
Judge.
“We found that the defendant unlawfully and intentionally,
knowingly, or with universal malice manifested extreme indifference to the
value of human life,” said Agnes.
Again the jurors were polled. Juror 7 hesitated ever so
slightly; then he too agreed.
Just as the jury started to relax, the Judge said, “Thank
you for your speedy verdict. We can now proceed with the sentencing portion of
the trial. Bailiff, please distribute the binders.”
Agnes sank back into her seat as the bailiff passed out slim
red binders to each of them. “As per Proposition 973B, the defendant, should he
be found guilty, was given his choice of method of execution. His options were:
lethal injection, electrocution, gas chamber, hanging, and firing squad. You
will find details on each method in your binders.” Pausing, Judge May slit open
a sealed red envelope. “I see that given a choice, Mister Marcus chose
execution by hanging. He is excused for his last meal of ribs and coleslaw and
a slice of chocolate cake while we finish our business in here.”
The attorney rose with his client, shaking his head as the
man continued to waggle his tongue and make pelvic thrusts in the direction of
the jury.
“All rise,” intoned the bailiff.
“Everything is prepared for the execution,” said Judge May.
“The bailiff will be coming to each of you with a small bag. You will draw a
single stone from the bag and keep it concealed in your hand until I tell you
to reveal your stone.”
Responding to the looks of confusion, Judge May said, “You
each signed that you had read the contents of your jury instructions. Did
anyone actually read the entire document?”
Not a single hand went up.
The judge sighed and shook her head. “I don’t suppose any of
you read the law before you voted either. Well, you’ll find out soon enough.
Draw your stones and we’ll continue.”
The process went quickly. There were only twelve of them.
“Fine. Turn over your hand and reveal your stone.”
Agnes’ hand shook as she turned her hand, revealing a round
white stone. Juror 4, the young mother, gave a little shriek and the black
stone dropped from her fingers.
“Juror 4, by blind lot you have been chosen as executioner.
Don’t worry. The guards will prepare Mister Marcus. You have only to pull the
lever. You will all stand witness until Mister Marcus is pronounced dead and
then you will be excused. The bailiff will inform you when Mister Marcus has
finished his meal.”
Jurors 3 and 5 had to help support 4 as they filed out of
the room. She was sobbing uncontrollably when they eased her back into her
chair.
“They can’t do this!” she wailed. “I have children. I can’t
just kill someone.”
Agnes opened her red binder. The pertinent pages from the
original instructions were there. “Should the jury find the defendant guilty,
with appropriate aggravating factors, the execution will be immediately carried
out by a member of the jury chosen randomly from the jury pool. As per Proposition
973B, the lengthy period between the average sentencing and execution was found
to be both expensive to the tax paying public and cruel to the condemned.
Should the jury not reach a unanimous verdict with a unanimous vote on the
aggravating factor or factors, the sentence will be commuted to life in prison
without possibility of parole.”
“What if I refuse?” sobbed Juror 4. “Can’t someone else do
it?”
“Let me look,” said Agnes.
Several of the jurors flipped through their binders as Agnes
read the instructions. “If you refuse, they will commute the sentence to life
in prison with no change of retrial on these charges.”
“I don’t see the problem,” said Juror 7. “We all voted he
was guilty. He admits he was guilty. We all agreed to the aggravating factor.
Looks like we get to do our own dirty work. If you didn’t have the stomach for
it, you shouldn’t have voted for an execution.”
“But they have people that do these things,” she snuffled.
“I’ve never killed anything in my life.”
“Not even a bug? Ever eat meat? That looks like a leather
purse,” mocked Juror 7.
“Stop picking on her,” said Agnes. “Nobody read that part of
the instructions; not even you.”
The Execution
Juror 11 got water and brought it to Juror 4. “Try this
hon,” she said. “It might help.”
“What if I can’t do it?” said Juror 4 quietly. “I know what
I voted. He butchered that poor woman. But how can I just kill someone? Yes,
I’ve killed bugs. I eat meat. I wear leather. None of those are a human being.”
“If you can’t,” said Agnes, “We should send word to the
judge. She’ll need to know.”
“We could have been home hours ago if you hadn’t worked so
hard to find your aggravating circumstances,” said Juror 7. “Here. Let me
help.” He switched on the video player.
They watched, frozen, as the crime played out again on the
large screen in front of them.
“Play it again,” said Juror 4, lips tight. Her eyes never
left the screen as the rape and murder played over and over until the bailiff
came to get them.
They were led through the building and finally out into a
small enclosed courtyard. The gallows were metal but the rope looked exactly as
you’d expect to see in some old cowboy movie. Leon Marcus entered the courtyard
through another door. His hands were bound but there was no gag or blindfold. He
smiled at Juror 4, standing near the release lever. “Sorry sweetie,” he said.
“They refused my last request. I wanted a turn at my executioner. I was worried
it might be a guy, but you’re kind of hot. Unless you’d like to oblige the
condemned? No? Shame.”
The walkway clanged under his footsteps as he walked to the
center of the platform. Guards held him in position as another settled the rope
around his neck. “I hope you enjoy the show,” he said. “All you fine,
upstanding citizens. I hear the hanged man comes before he dies. I’m looking
forward to it. Come on, baby. Make it good.”
Juror 4’s hand shook as she reached for the lever. She
stared at Leon Marcus for a long time.
“I said one of you wouldn’t have the guts…” he started to
say. His eyes bulged as the platform fell away and his neck made an audible
crack.
Juror 4 vomited as a guard had to hold her up. The hanged
man kicked and twisted on that rope, making gurgling noises longer than anyone
had ever imagined. The stench was hideous as he voided his bowels. They
watched, some sobbing, some stoic, for the entire twenty minutes it took the
man to finally die.
The body was lowered and the jury left the courtyard. From
behind the closed door, Agnes heard a woman scream, “You bastards! You killed
him. I hope you never sleep again!”
The Aftermath
The binders were gone when they returned to the room they
had spent so much time in. A doctor was waiting to check each of them. Juror 4
was prescribed a sedative and arrangements were made for a brief hospital stay
while her children were cared for. She was not fit to drive.
The rest of the jurors exited through the rear of the
building. Each was given their bag of possessions from years ago this morning.
A television was set to trial coverage. One group protested the barbarity of
capital punishment while others cheered that justice had been done for Lindsay.
Agnes sat for a long time in her car. “Lindsay? Did we do
anything for her? Will this make it any easier for that child to grow up
without a mother? Still, he won’t ever hurt another person. That’s something,
right?”
Doofus meowed loudly when he heard her key in the door. He
was a cat. He had no sympathy. He wanted dinner and that was all. Still, he did
let her pet him when she went to bed that night, staring into the darkness,
unable to close her eyes.
