L&O: CC – The Conclusion of a Special 2-Part Episode

In the criminal justice system, the people are also represented by a third important group who normally go completely unnoticed: the jury. This is their story.

DUN-dun!

Previously on L&O: CC, the jury selection process. On tonight’s episode: the trial.

The trial began on a Tuesday morning bright and early. Okay, 9:30 (court keeps some pretty relaxed hours, really; our first “day” of jury selection was actually 9:30-12:15). I came to regret my decision to wear suspenders – not because of the fashion faux pas my wife warned of, but because I set off the metal detector. So once again my arrival fell into the general 9:29ish category.

Not long thereafter, we settled into our comfortable yet squeaky chairs for opening arguments. Problem #1: the judge doesn’t allow note-taking. He wants us listening instead of scribbling; I’m shocked at his lack of concern for those of us who are bloggers. Hard to get the good stuff without writing it down!

I do make a few general observations pretty quickly: first of all, it’s really dimly lit, the exact opposite of a television studio. Almost restful, as I would find to my chagrin after perhaps a little too much lunch.

There’s no gallery, which is going to deprive us of the legendary Perry Mason finish. I suppose it’s still possible one of the witnesses will jump up and say he did it. Or, who knows, maybe a juror. Although only the foreman generally gets a line.

Court reporters on TV don’t get lines either – just the standard shot of her (always “her”, right?) tapping away. This one talks more than the judge, constantly interrupting to ask the witness to repeat himself. I’m on the verge of asking her to switch places.

The case concerns a man who went to an instant oil-change place. During the service, he was standing next to the car when it began to roll. He jumped in front to stop it, but was pinned against the garage door and severely fractured his leg.

The basic facts are not in dispute; the plaintiff says it's the garage's fault for letting him stand next to the car, and they must have done something to make it roll. The defendant says he wouldn’t have been hurt if he hadn’t jumped in front of the car... which is certainly true in the “fact” sense; we’ll have to see if it holds up in the “liability” sense.

I think opening arguments are kind of like the opening act at a concert. Nobody’s there to see that part, and nobody pays any attention to it anyway. It’s just sound; in this case the opening arguments boil down to:

• My client has been wronged, and his life is ruined, so you’ll want to give him a bunch of money.
• We didn’t do anything, the guy jumped in front of the car, and besides the car moving must’ve been an act of God.
  

Then we have witnesses, starting with the two mechanics on duty. Their stories are just enough different to leave you wondering what really happened. On the other hand, the incident was 2½ years ago, so it might be weirder if the accounts were identical.

We do get one stock moment when one of the mechanics says something and the plaintiff’s lawyer takes a pause. Then he pulls out a document and says, “Perhaps you need to refresh your memory...” The witness studies the paper, then says, “I must have said that but I don’t recall saying it.” Disappointingly, no one is hauled off to the Graybar Hotel for perjury (“Call my wife! Call my lawyer!”).

The plaintiff takes his turn. He’s kind of a mope and I take an instant dislike to him. I can also feel brain cells popping from the strain of trying to formulate all the facts and spin into a coherent, and impartial, account – mindful that it’s hard enough to know what happened, but I also need to know why, and who’s really responsible (and potentially, how much dough that’s worth).

On top of that, I’m very conscious of not only listening objectively but also appearing to be objective. I know the lawyers and the judge are watching, and I don’t want to look like I’m favoring one side or another. Fortunately, my default face is pretty expressionless anyway....

We also get an Expert Witness, in the field of... Auto Mechanics. Much discussion ensues about how the car moved and why it might have moved. Oddly, the thing that strikes me most about his testimony is that he is in fact expert at being a witness; if he’s asked a yes/no question, he answers only yes or no and waits for the follow-up question to supply the details. We are thus deprived of the classic: "Objection!" "Sustained -- the witness will confine himself to answering the question."

Now it’s midafternoon and the judge says we’re moving quicker than anticipated and have covered what was planned for today. Translation: the remaining witnesses are doctors and there’s no way they’ve been just sitting around waiting for their turn. As a result, we are adjourned. Day 2, 9:30-2:15 (with 2 breaks, and an hour and a half for lunch) – I could get used to these hours.

I’m getting the rhythm of this trial down; on Wednesday, I arrive at the jury room at... 9:29 (no suspenders, and I left my sunglasses in the car, so I breeze through the metal detector). The Court Officer says there will be a slight delay – the judge & lawyers are in conference. We immediately begin to speculate that it’s a settlement conference. After about a 45-minute wait, we are brought into the courtroom to be told that the parties in fact have settled; later, in the jury room, the judge tells us the plaintiff got $125K.

Looking around the room, the consensus seems to be that he wouldn’t have gotten that much from us; we weren’t entirely sold on his story, or the extent of his “pain and suffering”. And none of us can quite decide: is it cool that we got out without having to deliberate, or did we miss out on part of the experience? Overall, I’d say I’m just as happy not having to translate all that testimony into a dollar figure.

So in exchange for sitting in a chair for (parts of) 3 days, I'm off the hook for (at least) 6 years. Plus, now I know how those Perry Mason extras felt.