I have been called for jury duty numerous times over the years, but until this week I had never been selected to serve on a jury. Most times I made it into the courtroom and went through the interview process only to be sent home. I must admit I sometimes felt cheated in not being able to hear the rest of the story. In those cases I had learned just enough about the crime that I was intrigued. It was like reading the opening chapters of a novel and not being able to finish it. All that changed this week. Unlike other instances, I did not have a good feeling about this trial. The defendant did not look like a hardened criminal, but it seem obvious that a violent crime had been committed. During part of the interview process we asked questions about our experience with domestic abuse. My thought was, "No thanks. I will pass." God had other plans and my name was called.
The defendant was in his late fifties, but we were told he had the mental capacity of a 5th or 6th grader. While he had been married to the same woman for 37 years it was unclear how much time they had actually been together. She was described by those who knew her as controlling and vindictive. She also had been both physically and verbally abusive toward him. The weapon in this case was a sock with a metal lock in it. It belong to her and evidently she had used it on him numerous time. On the night in question, he managed to get it away from her. With weapon in hand he released the pent-up anger brought on by years of abuse. We saw the pictures and they were not pleasant. .
It was obvious a crime had been committed. Agreeing on a conviction was easy . We found him guilty of assault with a deadly weapon. Our job as a jury was only half finished, however. The defendant wanted us, rather than the judge, to determine his punishment. From the start, the twelve of us were divided. I was part of the minority that was pushing for court supervision, rather than jail time. The majority felt he should be punished because a crime had been committed. As I surveyed the situation, I realized that the others who shared my view were the younger members of the panel. After three rather intense hours, we were sent home by the judge. After a few more hours of deliberation the next morning, we were still deadlocked. "Keep talking," the judge told us. Finally we reached an agreement. We sentenced the defendant to jail, but it was deferred. If he could abide by the conditions of his court supervision, he would not serve a day. Oh yes: one conditions is they not see each other.
During the deliberation I was able to share my faith as I talked about grace. One of the young women who shared my perspective noted that was driving her view as well. Like the others, I was disturbed by the picture of the victim after the attack, but apart from his relationship with her I did not view him as a violent man. He had never been convicted of a crime before. Those who knew him said that the violence was out of character for him. What would be gained by sending him to prison?
Serving on a jury can easily be viewed as an inconvenience. It disrupts our normal routine. Dealing with the court system can also be frustrating: the wheels of justice move slowly. Still, it is part of our civic duty. In my case it also proved to be a moment when I could talk about my faith and experience in working with teens who had made poor choices. The way we talk about jury duty and other civic responsibilities can influence those who are younger, and maybe even some of those who share our life experiences.
If you are called. Serve!
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