The weight of the decision....
Jury duty is over. Done. I know I have a reprieve for a while. It was long. I complained a lot, but I gained a new knowledge of the justice system and of myself.
The case I was on involved alleged racial discrimination and a violation of civil rights. Being Black, that struck a chord with me. I have been blessed enough not to have OVERT discrimination, but I have had subtle bias. I've had people judge me and tell me that I'm too "eloquent" and "well read" for a Black person. I've had people call me the "N" word to my face, and behind my back. My best friend in high school wasn't allowed to be around me because her father didn't want her having a Black friend. My ex husband's grandparents disowned him completely when they found out he was marrying a Black girl. Never mind that they had never met me. Never mind that I hadn't had the chance to make a good impression. It was enough that the color of my skin dictated their hatred.
Going into jury duty and hearing the opening statements, I WANTED to find for the plaintiff. I wanted this decorated veteran of the Gulf War, this man with a stellar reputation, this man whose peers had nothing but praise for him to be the victim. I wanted to say that the "Big Bad" corporation that terminated him did so with racial bias, with malice, and that it was done without merit.
I looked at the Black face of the plaintiff, and the Black faces of his attorneys and wanted them to win. I looked at the White faces of the defense, and I wanted them to be the bad guys.
However, I couldn't do it. Day after day of testimony. Witness after witness. Every bit of information I gathered I went over in my head each night. I took over 40 pages of notes. Each day that went on I became more and more confused, even feeling guilty that I felt that way.
I kept waiting for a bombshell. Something. Some piece of information that would make me go "Aha! Now I see where they're coming from! Now I see why this was so wrong!" But I didn't. By the time the last witness was called and both sides rested, I had a sick feeling in my stomach and sorrow in my heart.
When the attorneys delivered their closing arguments, they did so with passion, conviction, and drama. Each side was eloquent and strong in their stance that "their" side was in the right.
I sat there and watched both of the lawyers speak with such fire, and knew in my heart that it didn't matter what they said. I was almost let down. Disappointed. Disillusioned.
What happened in this case was that a very well respected man made a poor decision. He used poor judgement. He didn't ask enough questions to clarify things before he directed others to follow his leadership. One decision. One fatal mistake, erased years of hard work and reputation. Could things have been done differently? Yes. Did he receive a fair shake? I believe he did. Is he a bad person? No. I don't think so. Was he fired because he was Black? No. No matter what my personal feelings were, no matter how much sympathy I felt, the preponderance of evidence didn't prove that. That's what the law is about. Not about feelings. Not about sympathy. Not about trying to guess "why?". It's about making a decision with the information presented to you.
After the trial, the plaintiff's attorneys spoke to us outside the courthouse. They shook our hands. They thanked us. They asked "could we have done anything differently?". As I watched the plaintiff walk out of the courthouse in the distance, head bowed and seeming broken, my answer was "No. You did everything right. You presented a great case. It just wasn't enough".
The case I was on involved alleged racial discrimination and a violation of civil rights. Being Black, that struck a chord with me. I have been blessed enough not to have OVERT discrimination, but I have had subtle bias. I've had people judge me and tell me that I'm too "eloquent" and "well read" for a Black person. I've had people call me the "N" word to my face, and behind my back. My best friend in high school wasn't allowed to be around me because her father didn't want her having a Black friend. My ex husband's grandparents disowned him completely when they found out he was marrying a Black girl. Never mind that they had never met me. Never mind that I hadn't had the chance to make a good impression. It was enough that the color of my skin dictated their hatred.
Going into jury duty and hearing the opening statements, I WANTED to find for the plaintiff. I wanted this decorated veteran of the Gulf War, this man with a stellar reputation, this man whose peers had nothing but praise for him to be the victim. I wanted to say that the "Big Bad" corporation that terminated him did so with racial bias, with malice, and that it was done without merit.
I looked at the Black face of the plaintiff, and the Black faces of his attorneys and wanted them to win. I looked at the White faces of the defense, and I wanted them to be the bad guys.
However, I couldn't do it. Day after day of testimony. Witness after witness. Every bit of information I gathered I went over in my head each night. I took over 40 pages of notes. Each day that went on I became more and more confused, even feeling guilty that I felt that way.
I kept waiting for a bombshell. Something. Some piece of information that would make me go "Aha! Now I see where they're coming from! Now I see why this was so wrong!" But I didn't. By the time the last witness was called and both sides rested, I had a sick feeling in my stomach and sorrow in my heart.
When the attorneys delivered their closing arguments, they did so with passion, conviction, and drama. Each side was eloquent and strong in their stance that "their" side was in the right.
I sat there and watched both of the lawyers speak with such fire, and knew in my heart that it didn't matter what they said. I was almost let down. Disappointed. Disillusioned.
What happened in this case was that a very well respected man made a poor decision. He used poor judgement. He didn't ask enough questions to clarify things before he directed others to follow his leadership. One decision. One fatal mistake, erased years of hard work and reputation. Could things have been done differently? Yes. Did he receive a fair shake? I believe he did. Is he a bad person? No. I don't think so. Was he fired because he was Black? No. No matter what my personal feelings were, no matter how much sympathy I felt, the preponderance of evidence didn't prove that. That's what the law is about. Not about feelings. Not about sympathy. Not about trying to guess "why?". It's about making a decision with the information presented to you.
After the trial, the plaintiff's attorneys spoke to us outside the courthouse. They shook our hands. They thanked us. They asked "could we have done anything differently?". As I watched the plaintiff walk out of the courthouse in the distance, head bowed and seeming broken, my answer was "No. You did everything right. You presented a great case. It just wasn't enough".
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