A Baby Carriage of Justice

[baby tuckoo]

This trial is over, King.

I'm home at noon after 7 days of trial and 7 days of deliberation, dismissed this morning after we reported our inability to achieve unanimity on any of the three counts. Indeed, we were not close. We've also been released from the admonition regarding silence outside the court. If the case were higher profile, Judge Greta (who did not send us back to keep trying) might have sustained it, but not this time. So, I can talk.

Back when it happened, this case made the papers. In December of '05, twin six-month old girls were brought by their parents to Mercy San Juan Hospital (east of Sacramento) just before midnight. They had significant injuries of several varieties. One of them, Taniyah, died from those injuries several days later. Janiyah survived hers. By his own admission, the father was the sole adult in the apartment at the time of the injuries. The mother, upon arriving home, saw the injuries. The two parents rushed the girls to the hospital in their own car.

At the hospital, the ER staff, then a policeman, then a detective, asked the father, Ahmaad Tucker, what had happened. Mr. Tucker was unresponsive and, at times, combative. The mother, Patrice, was helpful and said that she had asked him several times on the way to the hospital and that he had replied, "I don't know." She gave detectives permission to search their apartment in Citrus Heights, which they immediately did. Four other children were there: Amaya, the 1 year old daughter of the same couple; Damian, the 10 year old son of Patrice; and two of Damian's friends of the same age. All were asleep. Only Amaya had been there at the time of injury. The three older boys had arrived with Patrice, who had taken them to a movie and to McDonalds, and they had stayed there (as previously planned) after the adults went to the hospital.

Patrice and Ahmaad were 23 years old at the time and had lived in the Sacramento area for only two months. CPS came to get the children and the detectives evaluated what they now believed was a crime scene. Around dawn, Ahmaad and Patrice, now with their mothers, returned home from the hospital. They were questioned briefly. Ahmaad again was unresponsive and Patrice gave approximate times of her departure and return earlier. The two of them left with their respective mothers to go to their original homes in Pittsburg (Cal.), about an hour away.


When it became apparent that Taniyah would not survive, and specialists in pediatric injury at the PICU of UC Davis had examined her, the DA asked for a warrant to be issued for Ahmaad. One day prior to that warrant (ten days after the event), Ahmaad arrived "voluntarily" (on urging from his lawyer) to be questioned by Detective Meux, a specialist in child abuse cases. That interview of nearly two hours was recorded on audio and video. Ahmaad was not under oath and his lawyer was not present. Det. Meux treated him graciously and deferentially, as a grieving father. Meux did ask all the pertinent questions about that night, and Ahmaad did give his story of the events. This interview occurred one day after Taniyah was taken off life support.


Ahmaad was eventually arrested and charged with three counts:

1) 2nd Degree Murder
(or the lesser charge)
Involuntary Manslaughter

2) Abuse That Leads to the Death of a Child
(seems redundant, but yes, a recent law calls for this charge also in this circumstance)

3) Child Abuse
(committed against the surviving twin, Janiyah)

The video, audio, and transcript of the “interview” with Ahmaad were presented by the prosecution and entered as evidence. He had not been sworn. In the courtroom, we saw and heard the full interview. The defendant never took the stand, as is his right. The defendant spent the entire 7-day trial seated next to his lawyer and dressed in a smart blue suit. He seemed very alert to the proceedings, but did not visibly (emotionally?) respond to events in the courtroom except briefly during the autopsy photos. He and his lawyer rarely consulted sotto voce. He is a nice looking young man with a gentle aura about him.

I do not know how Ahmaad responded this morning when this jury came back to tell Judge Greta that we couldn't come to an agreement, not even close, on any of the charges. I was no longer foreman and did not suffer the brunt of her questioning. The only person I looked at was Herself when she asked me directly if our deadlock was absolute. "Yes, your Honor."


After dismissing us, Judge Greta suggested that we might linger outside the courtroom to talk with the counsels regarding the nature of the deliberation and the deadlock, so that they might better understand our view(s) of the evidence they presented. All but me stayed. I gave my badge to the Bailiff and walked straight to the parking lot. Had I stayed to answer the counsels, I would have specifically (and accurately) defamed several of my fellow jurors in specific (and accurate) terms regarding their ability to understand the law (as simply stated in our charge and clarified several times by the judge) and their inability to refrain from meandering speculations on matters far far outside of the evidence presented. Five of our twelve exhibited an astonishing level of what I must call “credulity,” the willingness to believe. Their term for it was “an open mind.”


When younger, I would have stood in that hall and proudly displayed my anger and (at best) disappointment to all. I'm glad I did not. Silence also speaks.

Other than the defendant, no one witnessed this crime. Yet, much evidence exists, some forensic, most circumstantial. The evidentiary dots, if connected by a reasonable person, reveal a clear picture, with only a "state of mind" debate conceivable. The defense tried to place some dots far afield from this clear picture, as is its duty, and Judge Greta occasionally curtailed the placement of more.

Unfortunately, this jury had an abstractionist faction that rebelled against dots being restricted to boundaries called "the evidence" or tests called "reasonable." The imagination is a beautiful, boundless thing and should not be framed by language but by infinite possibility.

My fellow jurors placed dots of their own that defense counsel would never dream of introducing, for they would be quashed, and by the end at least five of them might not have voted "yea" even if the question was "Is Taniyah dead?" This, in spite (or perhaps because) of my placing Taniyah's autopsy picture in the middle of the table at the beginning of each of the last two days, then replacing it when anyone moved it, which they did.

I quote the final foreman (we had three; I was the first): "We can't know exactly what happened in that room that night." To him and four others, this was "reasonable doubt." My last words to them on the 7th day (today) were the same I had said many times: "We do know exactly what happened: Taniyah Tucker, a healthy baby, received blunt force and whiplash injuries that lead to her death." If you start there, I told them, the evidence yields a clear picture.

But they wouldn't start there. How they were selected out of 140 jurors in the pool, and what they chose to believe I will describe at a later date. Now, I must have a drink.

[Primula Baggins]

Have two.

[Crucifer]

Only two things are infinite, the universe, and human stupidity. I'm not so sure about the first.

[Voronwë the Faithful]

Wow, bt, that's quite a story. But it really bears out what I tell people; you can never, ever predict how a case is going to be resolved. People are that unpredictable. I'm sorry that you have had to go through this experience, but I suspect that you will have learned something from it.

[baby tuckoo]

Thank you, VtF/Prim/Crux.


I entered this willingly, but I too am sorry, for I lost a lot of time (vacation time for me), money (I would have graded State tests given to teachers), and faith in my fellow citizen.



All education is expensive. True. But the expense and the learning aren't always equal.



In a few days, I'll try to assemble what I've "learned." At the moment, I'm too riled. I'll just tell the story.

[themary]

How very frustrating baby tuckoo.

[Impenitent]

I imagine there are few things more maddening or frustrating than a deadlocked jury in a trial such as this. I empathise with your position.

[solicitr]

However, BT, this is the sort of mistrial which the State will almost certainly have another crack at. So rest assured, he'll be re-indicted.

Unfortunately, as I think I've mentioned before, our old law-school friend the Reasonable Man has retired, having been replaced by the Utter Moron.

[The One Ring]

They should have gone after him for battery first, instead of blowing their wad on a murder indictment. It's a lot easier to get a conviction for a lesser charge, and a lot easier to get a conviction for a greater charge when the defendent is already in prison.

That would be my guess, anyway.

Btw, I'm glad you didn't speak to anyone, bt, because it wouldn't do to let the defense attorney know what sort of juror is most likely to cop out.

Jn

[Crucifer]

I think you should have stayed and given you fellow jurors several pieces of your mind.

[baby tuckoo]

Crucifer, the younger bt would have done exactly that. I came close to doing so in the jury room once the stalemate seemed sure. But I didn't, and in retrospect I am glad. My absolute silence, apposite to my previous willing engagement, said more than a few bitter words.

[Crucifer]

True.

[baby tuckoo]

Jury Selection

I had put off jury duty twice during the school year. Though my District must allow it and must pay me, the prospect of even a few days of making lesson plans for an unqualified substitute was too much. I asked that I be scheduled for July, and I was. The day after Summer School ended, I reported.

Sacramento County Superior Court has a “one day/one trial” policy for jurors. When summoned, jurors are given a week during which they must be available. A juror is obliged to check by phone or net after 5 pm each day beginning Sunday to see if his panel (about 50 people) must report the next morning. If so, he must stay the entire day or, if called to a trial’s empanelling, come back until that process is finished. One day/one trial.

My panel reported on Tuesday along with six others. We filled to overflow the parking lot and the jury waiting room. At mid-morning three panels (140 people because of no-shows) were told to report to Department 10 under Judge Greta Church Fall. We herded ourselves to the third floor (I took the stairs) and were SRO when she banged the gavel and told us to turn off our cell phones and put away our newspapers.

This trial, she announced, would be for murder. It is not a capital case. It involves the death of Tahiyah Tucker in December of ’05. The defendant is Ahmaad Tucker, seated before you. You must all fill out a Voir Dire form of preliminary questions and hold onto it until you are called to the box.


The judge continued to tell us that this trial could go until the second week of August. If any of us felt that the legal definition of “hardship” would prevent us from serving that long, we should wait in the courtroom while all others were dismissed until mid-afternoon. She would hear each hardship case individually. I did not feel that my situation fell into the categories, so I left for several hours.

About 75 of us were left at 3 pm when jury selection began again. It was still SRO + in the courtroom. Twelve random names were called to the box and most everyone was then able to sit. Only one of that original twelve made it into the final jury two days later.

Judge Greta questioned them about anything that stood out on the VD: occupation, arrests, family/friends in legal profession, etc. Several people declared additional things they believed made them unfit jurors. A few of these things were obviously manufactured, but most seemed legitimate. One called himself an anarchist who didn’t believe in the jury system. Another called herself religiously “unable to judge another person.” JG released these people “for cause.”

One man asked the judge, “Will this case be about the death of an infant at the hand of her father?” “Yes,” said JG. “Then I could not judge fairly,” said the man. She released him for cause without asking for elaboration.

At the end of the first day there were finally 12 jurors in the box who had passed “for cause” dismissal, and the Counsels questioned them more specifically. Just before adjournment for the day, the Counsels exchanged (first one for the defense, the one for the prosecution) “peremptory challenges” for 7 of them. Seven more were called from the pool and we adjourned until the next morning.

Upon return, the process continued: JG passes a full box of 12, Counsels question them, Counsels challenge some of them. By the end of the second day, only a full jury box and about the same number again were left in the pool. My name had not been called.

At the end of the selection process on the third day, every single person had been called and questioned, me included. When the Counsels declared themselves satisfied, not one prospective juror remained in the audience seats. My name was the last called. I replaced juror #1, who had been among the first twelve called and had sat silently after that first hour of day one, only to be released in the last hour. She left, obviously disappointed and confused. We were actually 15: 12 plus three alternates.

Since no reading was allowed in court, we had no choice but to tend to this tedious process of challenges. Several things emerged. First, an unnatural representation of public sector workers makes it to the final stages of selection. I was the only teacher, but most of the others were City/County/State employees, of which Sacramento has plenty. All of these entities are required by law to give jurors as much time with pay as they need to meet the call. Schools also do this, but I chose not to use the privilege.

Second, most of those questioned had been arrested or had been present when a family member was arrested. (Or they were lying.) Most also said that they had been treated fairly during the arrest process. Three women in one single box said that their husbands were in jail at that very moment. Not one of them thought he’d been treated unfairly.

Third, many people don’t have jobs. In the final jury, there were 5. Either housewives or between jobs. One had just finished graduate school in Engineering and was living at home. To summarize: 6 in the public sector, 5 unemployed, and me. I’m baby tuckoo. I carry Juror Badge #1.

In addition, it was impossible not to attempt to construct a “juror profile” in your head that aligned with that of the Attorneys. Based on their questions and their challenges, what were they seeking? Beyond open prejudice or bias, was there an absolute deal breaker? Was gender an issue? How about age or family configuration or job? Most of the serious issues were screened “for cause” by the Judge. What remained that could be revealed through questions the Judge would allow?

I never figured it out. But based on the nature of the deliberation and the result, the Defense Attorney, Mr. Russo, won the selection battle easily.

Being Juror #1 carries no hierarchical weight. Because of the narrow, two-row seating arrangement and the single entrance to the jury box, we quickly figured out (as we were often shuffled in and out, always en masse, and always after all other court worthies were already in place) that convenience dictated #1 should enter first and go to his upper row seat on the far side of the box. This did bestow a regal aspect to the entrance; all officials were silent and still as they gazed upon us. Even the Clerk and the Recorder stopped their typing for some reason. The Bailiff (a fully-armed Deputy Sheriff who had summoned us from the hall) stood at the door in full benignity, an aspect he accomplished quite well throughout the trial and deliberation while also being protective. (He became our special friend, though in the end I wouldn't even look at him. It is likely an empathic fallacy on my part to believe that he knew why.) The Attorneys were often on their feet and turned toward us. The defendant never stood, not once, in the 17 days. Even from the beginning I chose not to look at the defendant, for he chose not to address the Court, as is his right.

On one jaunty morning early in the trial, I considered a queenly wave and curt nods of acknowledgement to the particulars as we entered. I’m glad I did not, and from then on I lay off the coffee.

In addition to the Bailiff, who was mobile around the court, another armed County Sheriff sat directly behind the defendant and inside the bar. On all but one of the days, it was the same deputy: a bored man the size and build of an NFL tight end. On the final day of jury selection, he and the Bailiff wrote notes to each other (on the same legal pad between them), which made them smile and, once (almost), giggle after looking at the jury. I suspect they were commenting on what a homely bunch we were, that all the babes had been dismissed. If so, they were right. Unfortunately, this jury had shortcomings much more significant than that superficial one.

The #1 seat also put me at precisely the same height as Judge Greta and in a precise line from her on the other side of the witness. The witness box was slightly lower than we, so during testimony the Judge and I would be looking directly at one another from ten feet away over the head of the witness. JG’s countenance remained appropriate and aloof . . . most of the time. I would be failing to report accurately if I did not say that she had a handsome Nordic face or that the robe of her office prevented any adequate assessment of her judicial gravity during those few times she rose during session for sidebars with the Counsels.

We never had to rise upon her entrance or exit: we were last in and first out. Upon satisfaction of both Counsels, I stood and took the oath, The Hidden Worlds clutched in my left hand, and we were released until the next morning when we would hear the first prosecution witness.

[The One Ring]

This board is more exciting than a Perry Mason novel!

Jn

[baby tuckoo]

The actual experience of trial/deliberation is hard to call "exciting." There is much tedium, process, and redundancy. Also, I tried very hard not to make it a social experience. This set me apart, as a subsequent episode will explain.


I'm still trying to figure out how this happened.


But thank you for reading, Jny.

[Voronwë the Faithful]

I'm reading with great interest as well, bt.

[solicitr]

an unnatural representation of public sector workers makes it to the final stages of selection. I was the only teacher, but most of the others were City/County/State employees, of which Sacramento has plenty. All of these entities are required by law to give jurors as much time with pay as they need to meet the call.

There you have it, together with the significant number of unemployed. Most private employers force jurors to take unpaid leave, or vacation days. Not many willingly do this! Thereby the old lawyers' saw: "You have the right to trial by an impartial jury of 12 citizens too dumb to get out of jury duty."

(Present company excepted, for all the obvious reasons).

[superwizard]

Fascinating bt!
Yes it seems to be amazingly tedious work really especially the first 3 days...

I am sorry you had such a disappointing experience.

[The One Ring]

b.t., between you and Faramond I'm finding out what trials are really like!

We have the same rule in our county as you have in Sacramento - one day, one trial - and I am called in for jury duty every two years like clockwork and never make it through voir dire. But I sit there all day staring at the bench like an idiot while the judge goes through prospective jurors for cause. Last time, after eliminating 50% for cause, they picked up twelve jurors and two alternates in order from the remaining batch, except for one: me. I would have been the 12 the juror, and they just skipped right over me. Why? I've no solid clue unless it would be my profession. It's the defense attorneys, I think, who don't want college professors on a jury, and I would expect any teacher to be eliminated for the same reason. We don't easily succomb to b.s. (as you are proving).

Jn

[Crucifer]

My Dad discovered when he was called for jury duty that it is never a good idea to wear a shirt and tie to the selection of a jury.