(C) Daily Yonder - Keep it Rural This story was originally published by Daily Yonder - Keep it Rural and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Can Justice Exist Within the Burden of Proof? [1] ['Claire Carlson', 'The Daily Yonder', '.Wp-Block-Co-Authors-Plus-Coauthors.Is-Layout-Flow', 'Class', 'Wp-Block-Co-Authors-Plus', 'Display Inline', '.Wp-Block-Co-Authors-Plus-Avatar', 'Where Img', 'Height Auto Max-Width', 'Vertical-Align Bottom .Wp-Block-Co-Authors-Plus-Coauthors.Is-Layout-Flow .Wp-Block-Co-Authors-Plus-Avatar'] Date: 2024-06-05 Editor’s Note: This article was originally published in Keep It Rural, an email newsletter from the Daily Yonder. Like what you see? Join the mailing list for more rural news, thoughts, and analysis in your inbox each week. As of last Thursday former President Donald Trump is a convicted felon, a first for any president in American history. He’s already asked the supreme court to annul the charges before his July 11 sentencing, but still, the gravity of this is notable. Twelve jurors over five weeks heard testimony and considered evidence on Trump’s hush money case, eventually determining him guilty on 34 charges of falsifying business records to conceal a pay-off to porn actress and director Stormy Daniels, whom he had an affair with in 2006. Like any criminal case, the jury’s guilty verdict had to be unanimous, and in this case it was, on every single count. Not to make the news all about me, but while a jury was deciding on Trump’s criminality, I, too, was reporting for jury duty. Spoiler alert: I was dismissed (perhaps the judge was worried I would write about the experience – clearly she was correct), but during the two days I spent at the courthouse I learned a lot about the jury selection process. Like Trump’s trial, the case I was summoned for was a felony trial. Often when you’re called to jury duty you’re asked to sit on several lower-severity cases like divorces or DUIs. The trial I was considered for was a case of more serious charges: the unlawful use of a firearm and second-degree murder. The severity of this case made the juror selection process longer. The first day was spent watching videos about how the jury works and how to avoid unconscious bias, a relatively new priority within courtrooms. Then we filled out thick questionnaires that asked about everything from the news we read to what social media we use. They even asked what our favorite books and movies were. The lawyers appeared to be sussing out who might be more vulnerable to misinformation or extreme ideologies that tend to fester online. After completing the questionnaires we were sent home, but asked to return a week later once the lawyers had read through everyone’s answers. That second day of jury duty proved to be more interesting than the first. Roughly 65 potential jurors were ushered into a courtroom where the case’s prosecutor and defense attorney asked us questions under the judge’s watch. Even the defendant himself was present for this part. Over approximately five hours (with a lunch break in the middle), the lawyers asked us questions about innocence, speculation, objectivity, and the burden of proof. In a criminal trial the burden of proof must be “beyond a reasonable doubt,” which is much higher than the burden of proof in a civil trial. The defense attorney described it as a football field: determining guilt beyond a reasonable doubt means the ball can’t just be halfway across the field but all the way in the red zone, that area between the 20-yard line and the goal line. This doesn’t mean the burden of proof must be beyond all reasonable doubt, past that goal line and into the end zone. And this is what’s so impossible about a case like this – when none of the lawyers, the judge, the jury was at the scene of the crime to see firsthand exactly what happened, certainty beyond all doubt is impossible. All we have is the story each side tells. Truth in a courtroom is blurry. Truth anywhere is blurry – people often have different versions of the same story depending on their perspective or previous experiences. Without even realizing it, two parties in a conflict will probably always have at least a slightly different telling of events based on what stood out to them. Even this story about jury duty includes the versions of the truth I was able to remember, and memory is a faulty thing. So as a jury, what do you hold onto when the truth is hard to find? The evidence? The testimony of people close to the defendant, or the victim? Everyone comes in with their version of the truth, and in a courtroom where it’s broken into sides, x versus y, there’s no such thing as an objective storyteller. It’s up to the jury to decide whose story is closest to the truth. I learned more about the case after I was dismissed, and determining what really happened sounds like a challenging task indeed. The defendant and the victim were both in their early twenties, they had been friends through high school. They played basketball together. The defendant owed the victim a substantial amount of money; they had planned to meet up to resolve this debt the day the victim was killed, nearly three years ago now. The law demands we consider the defendant innocent until proven guilty, yet we often assume guilt anyway. In the courtroom, the defense attorney used an example from his own life to illustrate this: there were a series of break-ins in his neighborhood a few years ago, and when they arrested a suspect, the local news announced that the “culprit was found.” The attorney said he felt relieved that the “culprit” was off the street, even though technically they were still innocent until proven guilty. In other words, that might not have been the person who was doing the break-ins, but in our minds, if a person is arrested, that means they’re guilty. Sitting in that courtroom, I found myself unintentionally making the same assumption about the defendant. I know my fellow jurors were too; they said as much during our breaks. So how could we possibly be fair about a decision? The jury isn’t allowed to ask follow-up questions, so what you’re told is all you have. There isn’t a satisfying way to end this newsletter because at the time of writing this, the trial is still ongoing. I don’t yet know how my fellow jurors decided. The stakes in this case are higher than most, in many ways much higher than Donald Trump’s. If found guilty, a 26-year-old will likely go to prison for the rest of his life. If found not guilty, the question of who killed the victim, who was just 21-years-old at the time, remains unresolved. What stood out the most to me during my two days of jury duty is that the whole criminal justice system is run by a bunch of people whose memories, opinions, and motives are just as faulty and biased as my own. We must acknowledge this over and over again and be aware of its effect on the decisions we make, in and outside the courtroom. Is that enough to feel comfortable making a decision that changes the course of a person’s life forever? That’s up to each of us to decide. I, for one, am glad I was dismissed. Related Republish This Story Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license. 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