Sojournering

Cops are Liars

The whole case was as follows. Two plainclothes detectives in an unmarked car saw a man walking up the street in a notorious drug infested area. When the guy looked up and saw them, his whole demeanor changed, then he turned and threw 10 jumbo crack vials into a sewer. The police officers arrested him, went down the manhole and recovered the vials. Because they were eyewitnesses, they didn’t fingerprint the vials. The defense’s entire case depended on finding holes in the detectives' stories. This incident was from October 2003. It all seemed open and shut until we went out to deliberate. There were two counts. One was for possession; the other was possession with intent to distribute. The fact that he had 10 vials and no drug paraphernalia seemed to indicate he was dealing. I hadn’t realized that most dealers use a ‘stash’, a place in plain sight where they hide the drugs until they make a transaction. It could be a McDonald’s bag, an old tire, a shoe, etc. They didn’t find a stash. They didn’t see anyone else on the street as a lookout, or as a prospective buyer. In my mind they hadn’t proved his intent to distribute, but possession seemed clear.

As ‘forewoman’ I got to run the proceedings! Yikes. Short-and-Sassy had done this twice before; she recommended we write down our ‘vote’ so it would start anonymously. We did. I thought it would be fairly close, but five people said not guilty on both counts. We then went around the table and stated, one at a time, our reasons for our opinion. The surprising thing to me is it didn’t break down along racial lines. Frankly I was grateful both police officers were African-American or I’m sure it would have been worse. The two white men said not guilty on both. They said that the discrepancies in the detective’s stories meant they could have been mistaken. They didn’t think they’d lied outright, but could imagine scenarios where the detectives were mistaken. One woman changed her mind and said he was guilty of possession. Most people changed and said not guilty for intent.

One of the white men, let’s call him Former Hippie, mentioned he’d driven by the house on his way home. He started pointing out all the flaws in the detectives’ statements. His opinion reinforced two of the other not guilty people. Short and Sassy was one of them. She mentioned that her brother, 13 years ago, was searched by the cops and when they didn’t find drugs on him, they broke his hand. I tried to say we need to base this on the evidence in this case, but she was unwilling to condemn a boy based on the word of two police officers.

On my end, I remember working in a residential treatment center where I had to physically restrain girls if they tried to harm themselves, someone else, or destroy property. I have very clear memories of certain restraints and crisis incidents with the kids. I don’t remember what other people did very clearly, but I remember what I did, and I remember what the kid did. Most of the time I could tell you what the weather was like. I can tell you what the child wore especially if it was part of the restraint, but not otherwise. The detectives’ discrepancies made sense to me. They each had clear memories of their own actions, but not of each other’s at the time. One remembered a stop sign at the corner, but he wasn’t driving, the driver didn’t mention a stop sign. In fact there was no stop sign. What was common to their stories was that the guy turned away and threw vials toward a sewer drain. Former Hippy felt you could drive a truck through the lies. He had more than just a reasonable doubt. He could imagine all sorts of scenarios that let the kid off the hook. For example, he turned around to tie his shoelace, saw the vials and pushed them into the sewer. (!) Former Hippie didn’t want to hurt someone’s life based on the words of the two detectives. I told him if he was that concerned he should go mentor some kids on that street and save people from getting into this. (He didn’t like that much) In the end for the three remaining Not Guilty people, it came down to whether you could trust a policeman or not. They weren’t budging and no amount of evidence was going to sway them.

After two hours of shouting, me sending a note that we were deadlocked, more shouting, being told to lower our voices, more shouting, people crying because they can’t afford to miss any more work or pay for day care, Former Hippy getting entrenched and thriving as the one person standing against the Man, one of the women suddenly stood up and pointed at Former Hippy, “You went to the house! You’re not allowed to DO that!” More shouting. In the midst of the shouting, I realized she was right! I wrote a note, “The juror most against the guilty verdict went by the house on his way home last night. Is that relevant?” I didn’t ask or tell anyone about the note, I just walked out and handed it to the sheriff. When I came back in Short-and-Sassy asked me what I’d done. I told her what I’d written and she said, “You shouldn’t have said he was against the verdict!” She was right. That wasn’t relevant and gave the lawyers too much info.

They called us back to court right away. The judge said, “Madam Forewoman, you sent us two notes tonight. The first we didn’t respond to because it was much too early for that, the second is problematic. Is it your considered opinion that despite more time you would still be unable to reach an agreement?” I said, “Yes, Your Honor.” He asked the rest of the jury and they all nodded. Then he read my note and said, “I gave specific instructions that none of you were to conduct your own investigations but to base your decision on the evidence heard in this court. One of you took it upon yourself to disobey that instruction. As a result we must declare this a mistrial and set another date to hear the case with a new jury.”

Why would a man who seemed so smart be dumb enough to go to the scene (which is down a narrow one way street and on no one’s way to anywhere)? How do juries get past a deadlock? We might have had to come back the next day and do that all day?!

All that for $200 worth of crack. No wonder it’s so hard to change this city.