Categories: all aviation Building a Biplane bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater
The crunch time came on Wednesday morning: we were seated in the jury box, and there were no more dismissals for cause. One by one, the lawyers dismissed people who they didn't want, for whatever reason. I felt something like my internal pressure rising with each one, expecting to relase of being selected, but with each, "Your honor, the defense would like to thank and excuse juror number 19," that passed by, I was skipped over.
Finally, both sides agreed they were satisfied with the panel, and to my amazement, I was still sitting there. The rest of the jury pool filed out of the courtroom, and I assessed the situation: of the original group I'd sat down with, perhaps 8 remained, and another 6 had been added from the extras, for a total of 14. We'd all sit on the case, and two alternates would be selected at the end, and dismissed, to be called up if for some reason someone had to drop out from the primary group.
Opening arguments started without any delay. The state prosecuting attorney went first, and outlined the basic scenario: a woman (who we'll call Danielle) met a man (let's go with Larry) at a store called The African Store. They conversed, and she naively traded numbers with him. Larry was sitting next to his defense attorney, and it was hard to imagine who would trade numbers with him, but I'm not Danielle.
They met a couple of weeks later, Larry hailing her from across the street at 3 AM on July 5th last year. They talked for a bit, then he invited her over to have drinks at his place in Fremont. She got in his car, and he headed the wrong direction, turned too soon, and was suddenly parked in a dark alley. Finally her spidey sense started tingling, and she walked away quickly. He called after her, got agitated, and followed. She tried to calm him down, and managed to at least get them back out on the main road.
Unfortunately, at this point, it all went very wrong, and he dragged her down an embankment, his finger poised to poke out her eye, his arm around her neck. This was the point at which the attempted rape occurred, and he tried to force her to perform oral sex on him. She refused, and was dragged to another spot where he threw her in the blackberry bushes, stole her purse, and ran away.
The police found him about an hour later, after Danielle called 911. She got a huge response, eventually having 5 or 6 police cruisers parked along the sidewalk, and a K9 unit called out to search for Larry. He was found half a block away, hiding in the bushes, still clutching her purse. He even tried to wrestle the dog, putting it in a headlock, receiving several nasty bite wounds into the deal.
The defense opening statement was considerably less memorable. He didn't necessarily disagree with the scenario outlined, but he raised some important questions, which would become clearer during the rest of the trial.
In short order, we had our first witness, one of the police officers who responded to the scene. It was a little strange, the first cop we listened to didn't have a whole lot to do with it -- he was the second officer to respond, and didn't really have any contact with Danielle. He did find Larry's car, and helped out a bit, but he didn't have a whole lot to say.
Next up was the investigator who would take over the longer-term case, who interviewed Danielle the following Monday. She talked about how Danielle had acted, and what she said in statements. Nothing remarkable, really, just confirming the story we already knew. The defense attorney cross-examined her, and drove home the point that everything she knew came from Danielle's account of events.
There followed a bewildering array of police officers, who have all melded into my memory into one meta-officer who took the stand, explained his or her job to the prosecuting attorney, and stated the same facts over and over again. The dog acted this way. The defendant was found clutching a purse and a $50 bill. The scene of the incident appeared this way. The victim had these injuries. The defendant fought with the dog. And where possible, the defense lawyer stepped in and reminded us that except for the physical evidence they saw, the whole story came from Danielle.
We finished for the day, having only been sent away once or twice. The defense attorney repeatedly asked to see the judge at the sidebar, for a quiet conversation out of the jury's hearing (to clarify some point of law, I assume, or to give the defense attorney a talking-to when he was being obnoxious). Finally, the judge gave up and just sent us out when he started asking for a sidebar conversation.
Some time that day, I had pulled out the cheap deck of cards that lives in my shoulder bag, and taught everyone on the jury how to play Hosenabe (or Pants Down), a game which was readily accepted, and became our primary pastime when we were sent back to the jury room. It's simple and easy to play, while still being involved enough that it's not brainless.
By this time, I'd also cemented my habit of taking the stairs instead of the elevators. Unlike at work, where there are only four floors including the parking garage, I entered the courthouse on the 1st floor, and attended court on the 8th. These are courthouse floors, too, so they're no mere 10 feet per floor: each floor is about 20 feet tall, so I climbed about 160 feet straight up, twice a day. The rest of the jury got used to me showing up winded, and I didn't feel like such a complete slug. I couldn't bike to the courthouse, due to a lack of safe bike parking, so the stairs kind of made up for the 10 miles a day I suddenly wasn't riding.
Up next, we meet Danielle.
Posted at 17:05 permanent link category: /misc
Categories: all aviation Building a Biplane bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater