Sequestered - Part 2

Part 2

Part Two

By the time I got home that night, it was dark. I had missed dinner but I knew it would be in the oven. I came into the kitchen carrying a manila envelope full of documents, some to sign and some to read. I kissed my wife and hugged my daughters. As I began to tell them about my day and the details of the jury selection, I realized that I was still in a daze about what had transpired. I did my best to recall it, although I’m sure I was hopping and skipping all over the place with the details. 

I decided to just start with the facts. Yes, I had been selected for the grand jury and yes, somehow, someway the D.A. had convinced me to agree to be the jury foreman. This would all become official next week, upon the presiding Judge’s approval, when we would be in session for the first time. Sessions would be every Wednesday. They would last most of the day with a lunch break. I would be compensated a small amount that I can’t recall, and a percentage of mileage driven was paid for.

I remember my oldest daughter asking how long this jury duty would last. When I told her maybe as long as eighteen months, the reality of it all hit me again. It sounded like forever as I said it. Her eyes got big and so did my wife’s. My other daughter was too young to really understand and was somewhat oblivious to the whole thing anyway as she happily finished her dessert.

The following week, on that first Wednesday, the first session was all about procedure and introductions. No cases would be introduced or reviewed. We met the presiding Judge in his chambers. He was a true veteran of the bench. Probably late fifties or early sixties, graying hair, very personal and cordial but also very ‘by the book’ at the same time. I was officially named the foreman and was given an oath to abide by. An assistant foreman would be named by the same Judge later that day. 

The D.A. and his two assistants then led us to the room where we would always meet. A very large conference room with one continuous desk and fairly comfortable chairs formed in a semicircle. A much smaller conference table and two chairs were in the center. 

After we all got seated, the D.A. whose first name was Michael, casually paced back and forth in front of us and discussed everything imaginable about the months to come. He spoke of the importance of confidentiality and how everything that we would hear and see had to remain in that room. We were not to discuss cases, conversations or proceedings in this room with anyone, including family, friends, media. This point was driven home more than once. 

He told us that the need for this secrecy revolved around two main issues. One, if an indictment is handed down on a person who is not yet in custody, there is a strong possibility that they might try to flee. Two, if a decision to not indict is handed down there is no harm to that individual's reputation or undue threat to that person’s safety beforehand and/or possible reprisal after the fact.

We learned that our eighteen-person jury, in the event of multiple absences, would require an official quorum of at least twelve jurists to be valid, and that a decision we handed down did not require a unanimous vote, but did require a supermajority of ⅔ or ¾. The fact that we were not a trial jury was stressed repeatedly. We weren’t charged with the responsibility of finding guilt or innocence. Our one and only job was to find sufficient probable cause and decide whether the prosecution had presented a case worthy of indictment, worthy of proceeding to trial.  

Michael explained that going forward he, or occasionally one of his assistant DA's, would deliver a synopsis to the jury of each and every case we reviewed. This would be followed by sworn testimony of law enforcement officials connected with the case as well as evidence (both written and photographic), followed by questions and queries posed to those witnesses, from the jury. This could (and certainly did) include multiple branches and agencies such as detectives, special agents of various federal agencies, undercover agents, local police, state police, Texas Rangers and the FBI (the last two listed would turn out to be called in on more occasions than I expected). 

He also made it clear that when we would move to the deliberation and voting stage, he and anyone on his staff would exit the room. Only jurors would remain, no one else was allowed to enter and would not be until the jury had reached a determination(s).

One of many surprises that I encountered that day was that I was told it was the foreman’s job to swear in all witnesses, regardless of rank or agency. Something totally out of left field and completely unexpected by me.

We were told each Wednesday we would hear multiple cases but sometimes only one, it all depended on the complexity and nature of the cases. At the end of the day if there were decisions reached, the outcomes would either be a True Bill (a decision for indictment), a No Bill (decision to not move forward with an indictment and to dismiss) - or, a very rare decision that the felony is not warranted, but a lesser charge is.

After jury dismissal every Wednesday, the foreman and D.A. would stay and present the findings, decisions and related paperwork to the presiding judge in a normal courtroom setting but with no else present except a court stenographer. 

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And so it began and there was a period of time probably lasting a month or so, where it was awkward, as can be expected when you have eighteen perfect strangers trying to get used to each other and what they were responsible for. People representing many races, ethnicities, ages and walks of life. 

It was also a classic study of human behavior and nature. The eventual bonding of some people and then there were people who had no interest whatsoever in the others. Any of the others, wanting nothing to do with anybody, or any of it. They would do their job with hardly a word and then go home. Period. That was just people being people though. As far as I was concerned, I was not a community organizer.

I did give constant reminders and instruction on our specific duties. I encouraged questions to be asked of witnesses, usually asking the first one myself to get the ball rolling. Sometimes I had to diffuse internal squabbles, or I would occasionally ask for them to focus on the task in front of us. I tried to be supportive and thankful, voicing approval of their dedication and commitment. I most definitely did not play favorites, but I will admit I did use my assistant foreman as a confidant because I inherently trusted her.

Motivating people had always been something I felt comfortable with but in this particular setting I was tested at times. There was nothing to gain, no rewards, promotions or raises I could hand out for good job performance. I looked for other ways to encourage them to be fully invested.

I was demanding and straightforward at times, but only because I had to be. I’m positive that I was considered somewhat of a pain by some, which didn’t particularly bother me. Usually comes with the territory and it’s almost inevitable.

The weeks and months went by, case after case. Not all the cases, but a majority were horrible, unimaginable and unthinkable to an average person. These were not anything close to minor crimes, only Felonies. The ability for humans to be inhuman was terribly on display. Details of which were so disturbing that you thought of them for days, sometimes weeks. Those cases stayed with you and lived in your head, until finally and mercifully, they faded.

Honestly, many were clear cut and virtually airtight with mountains of verifiable evidence gathered and thorough testimonies given, leaving very little or no doubt for determining a True Bill. This was due to the absolute dedication, skill and professionalism of law enforcement. What they see, hear, experience and deal with - just what they do in entirety, cannot be fully understood or appreciated by average citizens, including myself. It just can’t, and anyone downplaying that cold fact has no idea what they’re talking about. 

Other cases were much more complex and not so easily determined. They were worthy of requesting further information or additional testimony which I was allowed to do for the jury, by law. This sometimes resulted in a No Bill and there was always second guessing, whether it had been determined a True Bill or No Bill, that wondering and worry - what if we’re wrong. That responsibility to not error, weighed heavy.

One of those aforementioned clear cut and well investigated cases with more than enough probable cause, was also one of the most terrible I remember during that entire jury stint. Unfortunately, it never faded away. I won’t be too explicit, nor will I give any great detail to it, but it involved kidnapping, rape, murder and human trafficking. All separate, multiple charges and all being levied against the same three suspects. The sheer size and scope of the crimes committed was disturbing in itself. The age of the victims and the details of the crimes were even worse and they are still today, twenty some years later.

There were three law enforcement individuals, including a forensic expert, who gave testimony on this case. I remember very well the lead investigator, from an agency I won’t identify. His age was hard to gauge. I could only guess that he probably wasn’t fifty yet, but that’s about the best I could do. He was dressed in a suit and tie that could have used a visit to the cleaners. His attire and demeanor almost screamed cop but he spoke very well, very thorough and exact in his comments and answers. It struck me that in another life he might have made a very good psychologist. What really grabbed me though, was his eyes.

Those eyes had seen enough. Far too much in fact. They were sad and tired, exhausted really. Most of all, above all, they were haunted. He might still be in his late forties but the job had aged him well beyond that.

As he gave his testimony and answered questions from the jury, I wondered about how many other times he had done this and how many times he had relived this type of case, this type of horror, these kinds of crimes. I’m not sure but my eyes were probably very sad too when I thanked him for his testimony and he nodded, got up somewhat stiffly from his chair and headed out of the room. 

When we deliberated at the end of the day, it was a slam dunk kind of case, with no internal convincing needed. One of only a handful of unanimous votes that I remember. True Bill. I still feel as strongly as I did then. I hope those monsters were found guilty on all counts and received the sentences they deserved. I hope.

I also remember clearly going home that night and even tearing up a little when I gave my wife and daughters an extra-long hug. We’ve always been a family of huggers, but that night was something far and above the norm. I’m usually not overly emotional, but this was different. I kept thinking about the victims and how they perished, about the unknown victims that almost assuredly and then my own girls that were growing up in this world. A world where those kinds of vicious crimes and those responsible are far too numerous.

As our jury time wound down, which ended up being just short of sixteen months, I was honestly ready to be done with it, ready to not hear and see anymore. At the same time though, I grew even more appreciative of not only the service and dedication of law enforcement but the legal team as well. Michael was truly a shining example of everything a District Attorney should be. He was dedicated, very intelligent and all business, but personable and understanding as well. 

He had exhibited great patience with this clueless foreman all those months ago and had supplied much needed support, guidance and encouragement along the way. I only wish I could tell him that personally these many years later or acknowledge him by his full name, but that just wouldn’t be prudent. 

As I close this out, I’ll just say that this experience was probably one of the most important, and fulfilling periods, of my life. Always will be. My negative feelings about that notice I received in the mail that day, couldn’t have been inaccurate or misplaced.    

If you are a young adult, or even middle aged for that matter, and you have a chance to do some similar civic service or duty, don’t dread it or think about dodging it as I did. It is real life, up close and personal. Its value is immeasurable in so many ways. So live it. Experience it. It will educate you.