I wasn't spending much time at work. The trial was really stressful on all of us, and even though we regularly had Fridays off, not many of the jurors went to work, preferring a three day weekend. Our kindly bailiff, Peter, told us that if our bosses called, all he would say was: "I'm sorry, I cannot disturb jurors during the trial." This was, of course, before the advent of the ubiquitous cell phone.
The journal continues:
Mr. Selvin's opening remarks...
...were something less than spectacular. His client faces the possibility of a death sentence, and the remarks were nothing more than a mild reminder to remain objective, to "trust me", and that "you will see that things are not what they appear to be", referring to Mr. Burr's presentation. He has a strange manner, and it was affecting Juror #9, a woman named Leigh. She was on the verge of losing it with laughter. She thinks he's really buffoonish, a view shared to greater and lesser degrees by everybody, and she's finding it hard to contain herself. I told her that all she needed to do to calm down was to look into the gallery at the relations of Raymond August who have been there every day since the start. Maybe she won't find this so funny anymore after seeing the lines of pain on those people's faces. I'm not an altogether serious person by nature, but this is probably one of the most important things I'll ever do as a human being, and that helps keep my mind on the right track.
The first defense witness was a gentleman who had stopped at a traffic light at the corner of West and 27th St. on the night of Loquann Sloan's murder. He saw a "black male" come around the corner from West to 27th and proceed eastbound. He saw two more "black males" follow about 50 yards behind, coming from the same direction. A white "Chevette-type" vehicle came from the same direction on West, turning quickly onto 27th and through the red light. The next sequence of events is quick: The car stops as three shots are heard, the two "black males" run across the street behind the witness's car yelling "somebody's been shot!". The witness looks in his side view mirror, through glass that is "limo-smoked" tint, and sees the white car drive off. He takes off, returning later to give a statement. All this information is distilled from a fairly combative between him and Mr. Burr. The fellow seemed to be trying to keep from being "railroaded" by the prosecution. He was really defensive, unnecessarily so, and it was a little painful for us to listen to him when there really was no problem. I think he felt that Mr. Burr represented The System, the same one that held him for several hours the night of Loquann Sloan's murder. He was cooped up in an interrogation room at OPD, and he probably didn't enjoy it.
Next on the All-Star Chuck Stevens defense parade was Mrs. Ziegler. She was a real hoot! What is it with the old black ladies living on the 700 block of 27th Street? This lady got up there, she must have been seventy years old, and she was wearing a very shiny silver blouse with gold ornaments on it, along with several necklaces and intricately designed earrings. To be blunt, she looked like an aged madam. I don't know if these were her best clothes, or whether she always dresses this way. Anyway, she began her recounting of the events of the night Sloan was killed. She lives, still, in the house right above the murder scene. She was somewhat confused about the facts, but eventually Mr. Selvin was able to glean a certain chronology from her. She was in her bedroom that night, just about to get into bed. She heard three sharp sounds and assumed that her daughter was banging on the door, trying to get in. When she didn't hear any other sounds she looked out the window of her bedroom. She saw a male black man run from the area just behind her car into the street and jump into the passenger side of a vehicle which had pulled up there. (The earlier witness claimed that nobody had entered or left the vehicle he saw) She crossed from the bedroom to the living room. By the time she looked out of that window she saw the car pull away and a body was lying on the sidewalk. She then dialed 911. It was really funny watching Mr. Selvin struggle through this lady's testimony. He asked her specific questions about her position in the house, her angle on the scene, the position of her car in the driveway, the autos in the street, the number of steps the suspect took between one position and the next, what time it was, time intervals, so many things... She tried to answer as best she could, but it was apparent that Mr. Selvin had little experience with older people. He tried leading her through several sequences. only to have Mr. Burr object to the questions being leading. When he re-phrased the questions to suit the objection, Mrs. Ziegler couldn't answer the question properly. We got a fair picture of what she saw, and it wasn't much. Mr. Burr was able to exercise patience and tact with her, and his questions simply clarified in a matter of minutes what it had taken Selvin an eternity to accomplish. No doubt about it, if nothing else this guy is a master showman, using the defense's own witness against him.
We spent a lot of time in the jury room today, just waiting around. This doesn't even require speculation. It's obvious that certain items of evidence or questioning or procedure are being discussed out of our presence in order to present a proper case to us. It may be proper in the strictest legal sense, but it makes for some extremely tedious work. The other folks I share the jury room with are nice enough, but I have to admit that none of them would be particularly interesting to me as acquaintances save one: A fellow named Skip, a Vietnam War veteran helicopter pilot. He seems the closest to a kindred spirit, but there is a feeling there that I cannot explain. I don't think we would be friends on the "outside". Something stands in the way...Is he gay? He sends out cloaked signals. He is definitely a complex person. The dynamics of this jury are most definitely potentially explosive. We have both strong and weak personalities, and I see the possibility of sharp discord when the time comes (to deliberate). Meanwhile I survive, small talk, reading whatever book I check out of the library. So far I have checked out The End of Eternity by Isaac Asimov, The History of Western Civilization, or My Story by Joe Bob Briggs, and Rabbit is Rich by John Updike. Nothing inspirational yet, but we'll see...
I seem to say that a lot. Hmmm.
Next: Day to Day, or Now for Defendant #2.
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