CA- The Notebook of Alternate Juror No. 4

What it's like to sit in judgment of an alleged child molester

5-9-2008 California:

I've been here a week and a half, sitting through jury selection, and I've learned a few new things about our justice system. For instance, I already knew the difference between direct and circumstantial evidence, but I didn't know, as the judge patiently explained at least four or five times, that the two are equally valid. If someone comes into the courthouse dripping wet, stamping his feet and shaking his umbrella, and tells you it's raining, it's reasonable to accept that as fact.

There was another judicial concept potential jurors were having trouble with: You have to be able to look at the defendant and presume him to be innocent until you hear all the evidence, go into the jury room and begin deliberation. Why was this so difficult? Because we were not looking at an alleged burglar or sobered-up drunk driver who recently found Jesus. The guy sitting there is charged with possession of child pornography (illegal) and — infinitely more offensive — molesting two 10-year-old boys who were expected to testify. The judge and both attorneys warned jurors the pornographic videos we would be viewing would be explicit and even disgusting, "But you can't just turn your head and not watch." You have to listen to all the testimony and view the evidence.

There were more than a few — I lost count — potential jurors who said, "But he must have done something or he wouldn't have been arrested." "They didn't just randomly snatch him off the street." "If this were any other type of case, your honor ... I have kids."

The initial pool of more than 200 jurors dwindled at first due to the expected length of the trial, six to eight weeks, and again because of answers we had to provide on the lengthy questionnaire. One question read: Have you or anyone you know ever been involved in a sexual molestation incident?

The number of people answering yes was a little startling. I had become friendly with one woman sitting next to me. We talked over several days of jury selection about her daughter, her husband, her work. When she got in the jury box, with hands folded in her lap, she quietly told the story of a girl, about 5 or 6, who was repeatedly molested by her two older brothers, until one day the boys inexplicably stopped. She said she was that girl. No, she never told her parents. She ended up on the final jury panel, but others who told their stories were excused. There was one man who kept clenching and unclenching his fists as he told about a male predator who had stalked his son, now grown, when his son was 10 and playing Little League. Another had a father, he kept insisting, who had been "falsely" accused of molestation but forced by his own family to plead guilty just to bring an end to the nightmare. Television shows could not compete with the drama in that courtroom those early days in February. This was real and it was gritty.

As we finished the first week, the 12 in the jury box were deemed acceptable to attorneys for both sides. It was a good panel that included some pretty smart people: several teachers (one who spoke six languages), a retired chemistry professor from Humboldt State, a retired journalist who used to edit copy for the Journal a few years back. The 40 or so of us remaining in the leftover jury pool gave a little cheer at the prospect of being dismissed. Then the judge reminded us of the need for four alternates. ..The Rest of Judy Hodgson Story..