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Lifetime Trial Part 3

A Juror's Perspective on a Capital Murder Trial

By Jeremy Scott MasonPublished 3 years ago 9 min read
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The Penalty Phase

If we thought that the guilt phase and all of the horrors that were laid out before us were traumatic, the penalty phase made them look like a “Nightmare on Elm Street” movie as opposed to the “Human Centipede” that was to come. Many of the witnesses were the same (from the prosecution). The true contrast came when pictures of the black garbage bags that contained the bodies of the children were brought in front of us to view. The descriptions of the scene at the recovery of the bodies only served to add to the repulsiveness of the treatment of the children. A pathologist gave us the results of the autopsies, which were completed with as much accuracy as one could expect from week-to-ten-day-old bodies that had sat in black garbage bags in the Alabama heat for several days. Even more impactful, however, was a taped telephone conversation that the Defendant had with his family a few months after he was taken into custody to await his trial. In it, he stated that the blame for what happened lay with the children’s mother, that his son was just trying to get to her and that is why the crime happened. He took no responsibility for what he had done.

The penalty phase lasted nearly a week. The prosecution finished laying out their case relatively quickly. The defense brought out experts who spoke to the mental illness and violence that were intertwined throughout the history of the Defendant's entire family as well as family members asking that we did not put the Defendant to death. The picture that was painted was of a family that lived in constant turmoil, and one that used violence and substances to attempt to hash out their issues. At the same time, the family had realized that there were extraneous issues with the Defendant, and had reached out to try and offer guidance in the wake of his divorce and the social services investigations into his household (in many cases offers that he rebuffed). They loved him, and they loved his children… there was no doubt about that. The testimony of his father and his sister and even his ex-wife (who had broken down wailing for her daughter while reading a letter during the guilt phase, necessitating a trial stoppage) was compelling. Especially his ex-wife, who expressed that she didn’t believe killing the Defendant was what his children would want. Both sides rested, and it was time for us to decide what punishment we felt his actions warranted.

Once more, the twelve of us found ourselves in the jury room, surrounded by the evidence of the trial. This was the part of this process that we dreaded the most. To take responsibility for the life or death of another human being is a task that should be taken with the utmost of seriousness and respect, both for the victims and for the convicted killer. For the punishment to be death, every juror in that room had to agree. If just one juror did not, life without the possibility of parole would be the punishment. And nobody had the right to pressure anyone in that room to vote in one way or another. Thankfully, our weeks together had built the bond that allowed us to absolutely respect the opinions of the others. Just as we did with the guilt phase, we each took our turns expressing our thoughts. We listened to the tapes again, as well as the tape of the conversation from the jail between the Defendant and his family. Finally, to drive home the importance and gravity of the task we had undertaken, we opened the autopsy photos. This part was optional… it was clear from the start that nobody would be expected to view that evidence (which had not been available during the guilt phase) unless they chose to. From my own perspective, I felt that my vote required that I view the evidence that I did not want to see, so I truly felt the weight of my decision. Once everyone had seen what they felt they needed to see, we finalized our choice and sent word to the court that we were prepared. We then prayed. We prayed for the Defendant's family. We prayed for each other and for everyone in that courtroom. And we prayed for the Defendant.

Down the hall one last time, to enter the court room for the last time in this ordeal.

The Clerk of Court read our sentence.

Death.

She affirmed that it was the vote of each of us. All affirmed.

We felt the weight of the stares in that room as this was happening. But that public scrutiny did not last long in our presence. We were quickly moved to the back and to the end of the hall. Jurors and alternate jurors alike. We spent some time talking with the Judge and his staff about the trial, spent quality time thanking and being thanked by those who we had little opportunity to speak with over the weeks, but who had done everything within their power to see to our needs and keep us as comfortable and safe as humanly possible during our evaluation of such a monumentally inhuman situation. We exchanged pleasantries as inside jokes and took some time to be ourselves, rather than the professional jurors that we had been for the previous five weeks. Also of great import, we were provided with pamphlets and lists of trauma therapy organization through which we could seek counsel for the trial we had just undergone (these resources provided to us by the Sheriff’s Department for the county). All of us shook hands with the Judge and staff, and it was finally time to return to our lives.

One last trip to the jury room to collect our belongings. One last ride on the massive elevator to the parking garage below. A last time telling each other that we would see the others later as we got into vehicles for the final time and left the courthouse for that last ride home from court.

As I arrived at home, the special report was coming on the news. The reporters were stating the fact that we had given death to the Defendant, and expressing some surprise that the penalty deliberations had not taken longer. I sat and watched the coverage quietly, the first news program that had been on while I was at home for nearly two months. But as the visions of those autopsy photos flashed before my eyes the horror of the situation truly set in. Soon, I realized that I was weeping, and my children (6 and 7 at the time) were crawling into my lap to give me hugs.

There were more rough days to come. There were texted conversations between Team 18, and conversations with family, friends and coworkers who had not had the opportunity to talk to me since. I could finally speak to my wife about the trial, about what we had seen unfold. And I could finally be asked questions and give answers about what I had seen. Inevitably, paralegals from the defense came to ask questions (after a trial and once gag orders are lifted, it is normal for one side or the other to ask questions of the jurors as a means of evaluating their performance and what parts of the case had resonated with jurors). While some of my fellow team members chose to avoid those questions or conversations with paralegals, I considered it professional courtesy to provide insight and assistance. After all, whether the defense or the prosecution, justice is the end goal for both sides.

There were positives in my situation. My wife (also a psychology student) was very supportive coming out of the trial. My work had been extremely accommodating, not only giving me time to get my head on straight (a brief period of part time hours shared with my wife, who had taken my place at the firm during the trial), but my financial situation was nowhere near as dire as some of my fellow jurors due to the work of my wife and the opportunity that the firm gave her. My boss took care of my family in many ways during the trial and had seen to it that my mind could be fixated on the trial alone.

In the years that have passed, I have thought often of the trial. As time has passed, I can go a few days without something reminding me of it (though Team 18 still reaches out to check on each other either via text or through Facebook associations on a fairly regular basis). I saw things during that trial that I have been pointing myself toward for awhile, with my interest in forensic and investigative psychology and the criminal mind. And I feel that Team 18 gave our all to that trial, to evaluating the evidence in the case. The case has changed life for all of us in major or minor ways. I will not deign to speak for them, but for me I find myself motivated to spending every moment I can nurturing my children and keeping them safe. I also find crimes against children more abhorrent (I never thought it was possible to hate it more until I finished the trial). I look to monitor and support groups that seek to protect abused and endangered children, choosing to take an active role in supporting them as opposed to admiring them from afar. This also includes being a vocal critic of agencies that fail to intervene in situations that lead to the harm of a child. My wife and I are even working on a children’s book dedicated to these five children who have made so much of a difference in my life.

I have also added my voice to those who call for jurors to be paid a respectable wage as a result of extended trials. Fifteen dollars a day is a recipe to create stress and financial panic for jurors who are already being inundated with horrifying images and descriptions, ESPECIALLY in a trial that lasts longer than a week or so. In most situations in life, you get what you pay for. If you choose to allow jurors to wind up in dire financial situations, you are ultimately creating an environment where mistakes occur due to carelessness and frustration. This should not happen in a situation where a life is on the line.

My best advice to all of you is to appreciate the time and energy that you can put into the lives of children. Children don’t ask to be in this world, and they all deserve to be nurtured and protected to the greatest possible extent by those adults that are in their lives. This includes parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents, family friends, godparents, teachers, babysitters or just adults out and about in the world around them. This especially goes for governmental agencies tasked with protecting children. Seek to protect the children around you when you find them in danger, and perhaps you can prevent the next team of jurors from having to intervene on the back end after law enforcement was forced to investigate another mass murder.

We owe it to our children, and we especially owe it to the children that we as a society have failed.

I promise that for the rest of my days and in my presence a child will always be safe in the arms of a father.

Rest in peace Merah, Elias, Nahtahn, Gabriel and Abigail.

capital punishment
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About the Creator

Jeremy Scott Mason

I believe that life gives us all experiences and events that enrich us, either through pleasure or pain. Move forward. Own it all. And do not hesitate to tell your story.

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