Goodbye and Good Luck

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Five years ago, I was a John Edwards supporter.

I had one of his bumper stickers on my vehicle, and I believed he was the best hope for the country.

The economic meltdown hadn't happened yet, and my assessment at that time, in the summer of 2007, was that the American public simply wasn't ready to elect a black president — or a female president.

I was a Democrat at the time, and I did not think either Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton was the answer for the nation.

I believed the time would come for that, but the time wasn't right. I still didn't think the time was right when the meltdown happened in the autumn of 2008, and the major parties had already nominated Obama and John McCain.

That meltdown completely changed the nature of the 2008 campaign — and I think it is clear that it will heavily influence the 2012 campaign as well. But that is another story.

The story today is about Edwards' acquittal on one count and the jury's deadlock on the other counts in his corruption trial in Greensboro, N.C.

Much of the post–trial discussion has concerned whether the prosecution will attempt to re–try Edwards on the other five counts.

I do not think that is going to happen. I mean, the prosecution spent a lot of money on this trial and came away empty–handed. Many of the jurors probably will be interviewed now, and the weaknesses of the case will be revealed — which could, conceivably, lead prosecutors to pursue a conviction again with a new strategy.

But a Raleigh defense attorney told the Greensboro News–Record that he, too, thinks that is unlikely — and for the same reason as I do.

"They got their best witnesses, their best evidence and the judge ruled in their favor on all major evidentiary issues," he said. "The jury didn't believe them."

The jurors clearly didn't go for the case presented on the third count, which dealt with money that was given to the campaign by a wealthy heiress. It was the only one on which they all agreed.

And the prosecution's case on that count was probably the strongest one it had — which really isn't saying much. I'm no lawyer, and I didn't watch and/or read every report on this case, but I never felt the prosecution established its case. And I'm dubious that it will be able to do so in a do–over.

When I was a reporter covering trials in the county where I lived and worked, I learned a lot about the judicial system, lessons that seem to be repeated over and over again.

One lesson I learned was that there is no reliable way to predict what a jury will do. Don't believe me? Ask the experts who believed O.J. would be convicted of a double homicide or who were convinced that Casey Anthony murdered her daughter and there was no way she would escape the long arm of the law.

But both were acquitted.

And there are other such cases, some that only get local attention and are not the subjects of national attention but are still astonishing when they result in unanticipated verdicts.

Veteran court watchers look at jurors' body language during testimony and closing arguments and try to interpret what they are thinking, whether they have made up their minds. And I remember that such veterans did not hesitate to tell me, when I was a reporter, what they thought a quick verdict meant or what one that took several days' worth of deliberations to reach meant.

But, at best, their conclusions were and are only educated guesses.

Prosecutors may one day bring Edwards before a new jury and charge him with the remaining counts, but don't look for that right away. Their gun is out of bullets and, unless they come up with a new bullet that is sure to bring down their prey, I don't expect to see him in court on these charges again.

Another thought struck me as I watched Edwards' press conference this afternoon.

He said all the right things. His problems were of his own doing, he said, no one else's. In spite of that, though, God is not finished with him yet, he said. "I really believe he thinks there's still some good things I can do."

Perhaps Edwards is right. Perhaps God is not finished with him.

But I am.

Mob Mentality

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Major Tetley (Frank Conroy): Other men with families have had to die for this sort of thing. It's too bad, but it's justice.

Donald Martin (Dana Andrews): Justice? What do you care about justice? You don't even care whether you've got the right men or not. All you know is you've lost something, and somebody's got to be punished.

"The Ox–Bow Incident" (1943)

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I've been struggling to find the truth, whatever it may be, in yesterday's verdict in the Casey Anthony trial.

But truth can be a slippery thing.

I didn't watch the whole trial, but I know several people who did. They have been expressing their opinions of the verdict — rather loudly — ever since. They didn't like it.

I have found a lot of this on Facebook. I don't follow Twitter, but, apparently, it's been happening a lot there, too. Everyone seems to be convinced that the jury made the wrong decision.

That really creates a conflict for me. See, I was brought up to believe in the rule of law. That didn't mean blind faith in the infallibility of law enforcement or anyone else. In fact, it didn't mean faith in people at all. It did mean faith in a system of justice that protects everyone's rights.

It doesn't always work that way. And sometimes juries reach different conclusions than the public at large. I've heard several references to the O.J. Simpson case, which may rival the Anthony case in terms of public fascination, but it was different in many ways.

It was a different time, for one thing. Technology was different. If texting and the internet had been around when O.J. was on trial, I'm sure word would have spread as rapidly as it did yesterday (well, technically, the internet did exist in those days, but it was not nearly as pervasive as it is today).

As it was, word spread pretty quickly in 1995, and the negative response seemed to be every bit as vocal. My memory is that many people believed the wrong verdict had been reached.

And the issues that were raised by the verdicts were different, too. When O.J. was acquitted, I heard many people suggest it was a form of jury nullification. Whether that was true or not, it was clear, from surveys that were taken immediately after the verdict was announced, that people tended to see the case differently, depending upon their race.

If the same logic could be applied to the Anthony case, my inclination would be to think that Casey Anthony would find some support from other women. But, on the contrary, I have encountered the most vitriolic condemnation of Anthony from other women.

I guess it's that maternal thing. Most women appear to believe that Anthony murdered her child. To be sure, that is a terrible offense. Some people believe it is the worst thing a person can do, and anyone who is guilty of it can never be forgiven.

I suppose, if you are such a person, if you believe that Casey Anthony killed her child, either deliberately or unintentionally, regardless of whether the evidence supports that conclusion, the fact that she was acquitted must be difficult to stomach.

But I think it is an indication that the system is working as it was designed to work — and, for that, I am thankful.

Now, I have admitted — and I will continue to admit — that I didn't watch the whole trial, but the burden of proof is on the prosecution.

And, in the eyes of the law, circumstantial evidence is not enough to convict someone of anything.

So, when the jury acquitted the defendant, I felt I had to believe that the jury was not persuaded by the evidence that was presented by the prosecution.

I have served on some juries in my life, and I know the kind of instructions they receive. They are told not to consider anything that is not presented as evidence. If someone says something from the witness stand that is considered inadmissible, they are instructed to disregard it (although, as Jimmy Stewart correctly told Ben Gazzara in "Anatomy of a Murder," jurors can't really disregard something they have already heard).

I've been defending the concept of "innocent until proven guilty" a lot. If the jury didn't convict Anthony, I reason, it is because the prosecution did not present a persuasive case under the law.

Well, the people who watched the trial were convinced, the other side of my brain counters.

Yes, but they had the advantage (if one wants to call it that) of hearing the opinions and speculation of the so–called "talking heads," who may — occasionally — have valuable insights to share but more often than not, in my experience, they simply fan the flames of the kind of mob mentality that I see emerging from this trial.

Their opinions have no value as evidence.

Largely because of the time that elapsed between the child's death and the discovery of her remains, much of the evidence that most juries require isn't available. An exact cause of death cannot be determined (an acquaintance of mine has suggested that the jury could not rule out either natural causes or some kind of accident). The exact time of death cannot be determined, either.

For that matter, I have heard no one mention proof of a motive. Based on the accounts I have read and heard, the defendant and her child had a good relationship. What was the defendant's motive for killing her? Is there evidence, not supposition, to support it?

And my acquaintance suggests that the grandfather's apparent participation in the subsequent coverup could be explained as something well intentioned that grew progressively complex and ultimately fell apart.

But my acquaintance is one of the few who have been guided by reason rather than emotion.

One old friend of mine posted a question about justice on Facebook after the verdict was announced. "Where is it?" he asked and then invited others to weigh in. "What do you think?"

So I expressed my opinion. But it turned out that an exchange of ideas was not what he or the rest of his Me–Too Chorus really wanted.

They insisted that they already knew the truth — even though they did not spend a single second in that jury box. They insisted that the verdict was an "injustice" and some said the jurors were "stupid" or "idiots" — even though they neither spoke to the jurors nor participated in the jury's deliberations.

Many insisted that they knew what God thinks and wants — which I find presumptuous, not to mention frightening.

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I remember seeing such a mob mentality dramatized in "The Ox–Bow Incident."

Did you ever see that movie? It was set in the Old West. A lynch mob was formed in a small town to pursue some suspects in the murder of a beloved friend and neighbor.

This mob knew who was guilty — and saw no need to wait for a legitimate judge to come to town so they could go through the formality of a trial. That was a waste of time — and money.

So they chased down the suspects and strung them up — only to discover that their victims were innocent.

That movie was made nearly 70 years ago, but it still has relevance in today's world.

It certainly has relevance, I believe, to the Casey Anthony verdict.

Because even if she is guilty, I'd rather run the risk of allowing a few guilty people to go free from time to time than let vigilante justice replace the rule of law — and permit the conviction of even one innocent man.

Crime and Punishment

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"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."

Ernest Hemingway
A Farewell to Arms

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When I graduated from college with a B.A. in journalism, my first job was as a general assignment reporter at a newspaper in central Arkansas. I held that job for nearly two years. During that time, I covered several murder trials.

Consequently, I was familiar with the judicial procedure in the capital murder trial of Curtis Vance, who was convicted recently of last year's murder of Little Rock TV news anchor Anne Pressly.

Every state does things a little differently. When someone is being tried for murder, the procedure in Arkansas is to decide the issue of guilt or innocence and then, if the defendant was convicted, hold a second trial in which the jury decides the punishment.

Informally, it is called the "penalty" or "punishment" phase. And, when the defendant has just been convicted of capital murder, the only options are life in prison — or death.

As a young reporter, I always found the penalty phase to be the most dramatic part of the story of a murder trial because, at that point, the guilt or innocence had been established and the defense attorneys were no longer protesting that their clients were not involved. Well, most of them were not pretending anymore. A few of them did, but most had adapted their strategies to the reality of a conviction.

Their arguments and their witnesses were intended to support what they believed were mitigating circumstances, and I came to regard "mitigating circumstances" as excuses for the crime. Not explanations. How can one explain a premeditated murder?

I remember covering one murder trial in which the defendant, having been convicted, learned (allegedly for the first time) in testimony during the penalty phase that his mother had been mentally retarded. There had been some physical abuse in the family, all of which contributed to his actions as an adult. That was the defense's argument.

The defense attorney must have done a good job of selling that one. Or perhaps it was the moment during the testimony when the defendant spontaneously burst into tears and court had to adjourn for awhile so he could compose himself. Maybe that was when the jurors decided they could not authorize the execution of that defendant.

I guess it's hard for juries to decide questions of life and death — although I suppose I would prefer to leave it up to 12 jurors than a single judge. But jurors must be emotionally vulnerable after a guilt phase that frequently has gruesome physical evidence. Maybe it is all too easy to manipulate jurors after such an experience.

Vance apparently broke into Pressly's home, beat her with a piece of wood, raped her and left her to die in the early morning hours of an October day last year. Her injuries caused a massive stroke, which led to her death a few days later. The photos of the crime scene must have been pretty unsettling.

The defense brought in Vance's mother, who tearfully testified that she struggled with an addiction to crack when Vance was a child and that she was physically abusive. On one occasion, she said, she slammed his head into a brick wall. Doctors testified that they believed he had suffered brain damage.

I don't know if the attorney actually linked the abuse to the possibility of brain damage or if that conclusion was left to the jurors to reach. Whether the attorney connected the dots for the jurors or they did it themselves, it is a logical conclusion, and it is easy to see how it could persuade jurors to give him life.

Pressly's stepfather said he was not disappointed with the jurors' verdict. "There really aren't any winners tonight," he said. To me, that seems to be a very generous attitude, considering the magnitude of the loss his family has experienced.

But it's a tough task for jurors. I know I didn't always agree with the jurors in the trials I covered, but I never criticized their decisions.

We ask 12 citizens to do a dirty job for the rest of us. We must be willing to accept whatever their decision may be.

The Anniversary of Nuremberg

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"[T]he people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country."

Hermann Göring

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On Nov. 20, 1945, prosecutors began presenting witnesses and evidence in the war crimes trial of Nazi Germany's most prominent surviving leaders.

The trial went on for nearly a year, but, by the time the death sentences that had been pronounced by the tribunal were carried out in October 1946, the world had a definition for "crimes against humanity" — and faces to go with it.

That first Nuremberg trial has influenced international justice for more than six decades, but surprisingly few film re-creations have been made to dramatize for younger generations the critical role the trial played in establishing the record of atrocities committed by the leaders of the Third Reich. I've written about the absence of such dramatizations in my Birth of a Notion blog.

More than any of the generations that came before, today's young people rely on the visual to tell a story. Unfortunately, an important part of the story of the 20th century is largely untold for them — at least in a way to which they can relate.

It isn't necessary to entertain the audience — but it is essential to engage the audience.

Earlier this week, we observed the 30th anniversary of the tragedy in Jonestown, Guyana.

The admonition in the pavilion where many of the more than 900 bodies were found offers a relevant warning for those who ignore the lessons of history: "Those Who Do Not Remember The Past Are Condemned To Repeat It."

Life in Prison Might Not Be Likely for O.J.

Lester Munson, an attorney from Chicago who writes about legal issues in sports for ESPN.com, says O.J. Simpson may be more likely to be sentenced to 10 to 15 years in prison than he is to receive a life sentence for his role in the robbery and kidnapping case that resulted in his conviction on 12 counts by a jury in Las Vegas Friday.

But, for a 61-year-old man, a 10- to 15-year sentence could mean imprisonment for life anyway. It might not be formally declared a life sentence, but, realistically, that's what it may turn out to be.

At the very least, as Munson acknowledges, "Simpson probably will be into his 70s before he returns to freedom."

Simpson's attorney has insisted the verdict will be appealed. But the legal system is set up a little differently in Nevada. Unlike most states, where there are two levels of appeal — an intermediate appellate court and the state's supreme court — only one level of appeal (the supreme court) exists in Nevada.

"So Simpson has only one chance to persuade a group of judges he should be freed," writes Munson.

Furthermore, the arguments that Simpson's lawyers probably will offer in their appeal don't seem likely to succeed, Munson says.

One such argument is that the racial composition of the jury was the "result of systematic elimination of African-Americans." But, as Munson points out, the judge ruled that the original panel of potential jurors was "an accurate reflection of the racial population" in Clark County, Nevada, and "it is unlikely the Supreme Court will second-guess her rulings."

It was impossible to ignore the racial element of the murder trial in the 1990s. The victims were both white, and the defendant was black. But, "[w]ith the possible exception of the selection of the jury, race was not a factor" this time, says Munson. The participants in this case were "remarkably diverse," he writes, making racism a much more difficult claim to make in an appeal.

The second argument likely will suggest that the judge made an error by allowing prosecutors to talk to the jury about the civil judgment against Simpson in the murders of his ex-wife Nicole and her friend, Ron Goldman.

The prosecution argued that it was Simpson's "enduring rage against the Goldmans that caused him to plan and execute the robbery" — in an effort to prevent them from acquiring his sports memorabilia and selling the items to obtain a portion of the $33.6 million judgment.

The judge in the case kept prosecutors from introducing witnesses on that issue, but she permitted audiotapes of Simpson "raging at the Goldmans and their efforts to collect from him."

Therefore, Munson writes, "It will be difficult for Simpson's lawyers to succeed on the issue when the justices of the Supreme Court hear the tapes of Simpson himself describing how the robbery would prevent the Goldmans from obtaining his things and selling them."

The anti-O.J. partisans might not feel as satisfied with a sentence of 10 to 15 years in prison as they might have with a life sentence.

But, in the end, it may be nothing more than a matter of semantics.