Day 1
So the now the whole enchilada was in our laps. Judge McGuinnis had instructed us to choose a foreman and begin deliberations forthwith. We all filed into the jury room, sat at the table and sort of looked at each other. Somebody piped up and said: "So who's going to be the foreman?"
Leigh, the young lady who had the problem with Mr. Selvin, said: "How about the umpire?", pointing at me. There was a general sound of agreement, some saying "yeah", or "sounds good". I guess my occasional requests to shut the hell up about the testimony earned me that position. They took a quick vote and I was in. Well. Now what?
Pete, the bailiff, brought in a bunch of papers. Each individual sheet represented a charge against either Stevens or Clark. It was really thick. Almost every one was for Stevens. We got started.
I could tell that Skip, the former Vietnam War helicopter pilot, was a little peeved at how quickly I had been chosen as foreman. It seemed maybe he wanted the post. I put that thought in my back pocket for later.
We wanted to do the "easy" charges first. We started with the Raymond August murder because that had the only credible eyewitness and loads of physical evidence. Guilty of murder there, no question. I put a little check mark on the list I'd drawn up.
Then came Lori Rochon. Not as easy to work out due to Clark being the only witness, but all the circumstances were the same as August and the forensic evidence all pointed to Stevens as well. Guilty. Check.
Loquann Sloan. Same gun, plenty of motive. Near the freeway. No way Charlie is giving that gun to anybody else. Besides, the bastard sat there grinning while the evidence was presented. He was proud of what he'd done, it was obvious. Guilty. Check.
Leslie Noyer. We had a lot of problems working out just who shot her. We referred to our notes and discussed the positions of each actor in this situation. Clark was definitely there. But again, no way Charlie is giving him the gun. Wish we could have heard from the other girl, if indeed there ever was one. Finally decided on Charlie. Guilty. Check
All the other charges, including the special circumstances - check, check, check.
Now for Richard Clark. All those stories, the manner in which he was interrogated, his general lack of smarts. What were we going to do with him? Was he guilty of murder as well, or did Charlie just set him up to take him down with him? We talked and talked about it. A couple of jurors were adamant that he actively participated in the crime and should be convicted. Others, including myself, could not make out the truth between all the stories. He knew something, he did....what? After a couple of days of hacking this out we took a Friday break. I skipped work, thanks to Pete's advice, and took my collie, Mickey, out into the woods for a long hike. I contemplated the consequences of sending a man to prison for something he may not have done, or at least for a specific crime that did not apply. I walked for hours and finally decided that I would vote Not Guilty.
When we met Monday to continue deliberations, the vote stood at 7-5 to acquit. The five who wanted to convict were implacable. So were we seven others. I signed all the papers on Stevens: Four counts of first-degree murder, six counts of attempted murder, and the three special circumstances of lying in wait, multiple murders and use of a firearm. I felt very disconnected as I watched my hand sign that familiar autograph on line after line, knowing this monster would be under lock and key until the state determined when to dispose of him.
While the judge and Mr. Burr were not happy about our deadlock on Clark, they proceeded on to Stevens. I handed the forms to the bailiff, who gave them to the judge, who handed them to the clerk of the court to read. Good. I don't think I could have read all that stuff in the now-packed courtroom. There were reporters, families, and other court-watchers jammed into every seat and standing along the back. The clerk read each charge and verdict, and as the families of each victim heard "Guilty", the reactions were emotional. Lori Rochon's son let out a "Yes!", others wept, the murmurs in the room got louder. I glanced at Charlie as the clerk read the papers. He was impassive until the one about Leslie Noyer. Then he frowned deeply and clenched his hands. That was as much emotion as I had seen from him for nearly two months. Judge McGuinness had to ask for order. Then it was done. The judge polled each one of us, asking if this was indeed our decision. "Yes", was the answer from each.
Penalty Phase
In California, the jury hears evidence in capital cases that will help determine whether the convicted murderer will be sentenced to death or life in prison without parole. The judge said that if we wished we could pick a new foreman. Nobody seemed inclined to vote me out, but I remembered Skip's disappointment. "If it's all the same to you guys, I think Skip would be a good leader during this part". They basically shrugged their shoulders and said Whatever.
This part of the trial took a week, but it was the most difficult part outside of the photos. One relative or friend after another got up to tell us about the emotional impact the murder of their loved on their lives. Ray August's father, a retired postmaster, was asked by Mr. Burr about the effect of this loss on his life.
"I have no life", he said, "It ended the day my boy was killed".
The defense was given the chance to offer mitigating evidence in order to spare Charlie the death penalty. It included a story about how his Mom was an alcoholic who died at the dinner table in a drunken stupor and a plea not to kill him out of the goodness of our hearts. Nobody came to stand for him, speak to his good qualities. We trooped up to the jury room after both sides rested. We sat looking at each other, then Skip suggested we take a preliminary vote just to see how we felt. Scraps of paper were passed out, filled out, and gathered up. Death, death, death....eleven for death and one question mark.
The one woman who had written the question mark was getting cold feet. She sensed the importance of what we were doing and didn't want to have his death on her conscience. I suggested we go around the room and talk about our reasons for voting the way we did. When it came to my turn I said: "This guy did not have a horrible childhood. No abuse, no mental defects. There were many times in his life where he came to that fork in the road. One way was right and good, the other took him closer to Hell. What we have heard over these last two months is that every time he came to that point he chose the downward path. Now he's in this place and all we're doing is opening the gate to the fate he's been running toward." She thought about the words and I told Skip that maybe we could get one more free lunch on the taxpayers.
We went to a Chinese restaurant and had a great feast. When we got back we voted again and it was unanimous: Death. I stuck my head out the door to tell the bailiff that we were ready. She got all jumpy and said that a lot of the court officers were still out. Phone calls had to be made. So we sat in the jury room for a couple of hours waiting for our last march down the stairs. When we got to the courtroom it was even more crowded than before. Same procedure, only this time the clerk simply read: "In the matter of the people of Alameda County versus Charles Arnett Stevens, we the jury set the punishment at Death."
The room was again buzzing. The judge polled us again, we answered in the affirmative, he thanked us and it was over. Charlie was led away, people were hugging, some family members came over to hug the jury. I was having trouble seeing well with the darn pollen making my eyes water so much.
Back up to the room to get our stuff, a few words with Mr. Burr. He told us that the one notation we never saw on the "score card" was the California Penal Code for murder of a peace officer. It had a zero next to it.
We went out for drinks at a local seafood place. On the way there I heard the live report from the courthouse about the verdict. Was that us? We had drinks, talked about other stuff, promised to stay in touch (which we did not do), and went home.
Yeah, there really has to be an Epilogue, huh?
