We, the Jury

by Robert Rotstein

  Q. What happened?

  A. I was in the kitchen cooking. I didn’t think Amanda would be home for dinner. She had a late-evening showing of a town house to some prospective buyers. I didn’t do the grocery shopping. I was supposed to do the grocery shopping. She made me promise in the morning that I would, but I … I guess I just got distracted doing other things. So, I took what we had in the house—a couple of cans of tuna, some cream-of-mushroom soup, peas, egg noodles, and whatnot—and whipped up tuna à la king and put it in the oven. It was Lacey’s favorite.

  Q. What happened next?

  A. Just as I was taking the casserole out of the oven to cool, Amanda came home early. I could tell she was upset. Like I said before, you knew it because the muscles in her neck would be pulled tight like stretched twine, and her eyes would flash this intense nastiness that—

  MR. CRANSTON: Move to strike as nonresponsive.

  THE COURT: Overruled. Get to the point, Mr. Sullinger.

  A. What I’m saying is that Amanda didn’t look happy, to put it mildly. I learned later that her possible big deal to sell a luxury town house fell through that night. When she had that nasty look, I tried to walk on eggshells, act cordial but also stay out of her way. I said hello, and she didn’t say anything. The kids were at the dinette table, waiting to eat. Amanda was carrying a used napkin or Kleenex, and she opened the trash can that we kept under the counter, to throw it away, and that’s when she saw it.

  Q. Saw what, David?

  A. [Unintelligible]

  Q. Please speak up, David.

  A. The empty Campbell’s cream-of-mushroom-soup cans.

  Q. Was there a problem with that?

  A. Oh, yeah. Amanda thought Lacey was getting fat. It wasn’t true. Lacey was ten, just maturing like girls do before hitting puberty, so she looked pudgy, but she wasn’t overweight. Even her pediatrician said she wasn’t. Amanda wouldn’t accept it. Amanda said Lacey had to diet, use low-fat products, no sugar. So when she saw the empty soup cans, she went ballistic.

  Q. What do you mean “ballistic”?

  A. Ballistic. Started screaming, calling me a fucking moron, said I was making Lacey a fat fucking pig like me, that I was a worthless slob, and she wouldn’t let me make her kids pigs. Then she threw the empty soup can at me.

  Q. Were you hurt?

  A. No, I dodged it, which made her madder. She got in my face and was berating me.

  Q. What did you do?

  A. Nothing. When Amanda had one of her fits, the best thing to do was nothing.

  Q. Like playing possum?

  A. Absolutely not. If you showed weakness, it would get worse. If you showed strength, it would get worse. You had to pretend you didn’t exist, and most of the time, even that didn’t work.

  Q. Did it work this time?

  A. I thought maybe it would, but, but … but then Lacey got involved. I told the kids never to get involved, and before that they never really … But Lacey was getting older, and she … she went over to Amanda, yelled something like “Leave my daddy alone!” or something like that, and she tried to pull Amanda away. Amanda looked like she relaxed, had this weird, tight grin on her face, and she … she, you know, said, “You want to be a pig like your daddy? Fine with me.” Then she grabbed Lacey by the hair—it was long then, down almost to her back—and jerked her toward the stove top. Lacey was screaming in pain, and Amanda with her free hand took off the lid on the casserole dish—it was still steaming hot—grabbed the serving spoon, dug into the food, and tried to force-feed it to Lacey, who was struggling and kicking and screaming.

  Q. What did you do?

  A. I … I … I …

  Q. Take your time, David.

  A. Sorry. Apologies to the court and jury. Sorry.

  THE COURT: Do we need to take a recess, Mr. Sullinger?

  A. No, Your Honor, I … Thank you.

  MS. BLAYLOCK: Take your time, David.

  A. I’m sorry. I still feel guilty after all these years. I was paralyzed at first. But eventually, I went over and pulled Amanda off Lacey, who ran out of the kitchen. Amanda shouted, “Get your fucking hands off me, you piece of shit!” So I backed away. I didn’t want it to get physical. I never wanted to be physical. She backed away, too, and I thought it was over, and I turned slightly. I was going to check on Lacey, and I took a step or two, which meant that Amanda was behind me. Then there was this sudden heavy blow to the left side of my face, and I saw red flares like Fourth of July fireworks. I was dazed for a split second, then I screamed, because my face was scalding. Amanda had picked up the casserole dish and hit me with it in a way that caused the hot food to spill onto my face. Some of it got in my left eye. It was agonizing.

  Q. Did you seek medical treatment?

  A. Yes, I had to.

  Q. What did you tell the doctors?

  A. I made up a story that I was looking for a potholder in a lower drawer, that I left the hot casserole dish too close to the edge of the stove top, and I jostled something, and the dish fell and burned me. I had second-degree burns on my cheek. My forehead was cut, a lot of blood. I needed six stitches. Luckily, I didn’t go blind in my left eye.

  Q. Did the doctors believe your story?

  A. They didn’t say they disbelieved me. When a battered heterosexual male goes to the hospital and makes up a story, no one questions it. I’m not saying that to be homophobic. People always assume only men are violent.”

  MR. CRANSTON: Move to strike everything after the first sentence as irrelevant, improper opinion evidence.

  THE COURT: Sustained. The jury will disregard the witness’ statement about battered males.

  Q. Was Lacey injured?

  A. No, thank God. At least not physically.

  Q. Where was your son, Dillon, all this time?

  A. He was … Sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again … You asked about Dillon. He was still sitting at the dinette table drinking his apple juice. He was perfectly calm. No crying, no shivering, no cowering. He might as well have been watching a kids’ show on his DVD player.

  Q. Did Amanda say anything after?

  A. After I returned from the hospital? Yeah. She was crying, remorseful, said she loved me, couldn’t live without me. But what scared me … she said if I left her she couldn’t bear to keep living, would kill herself and take the kids with her.

  Q. Did you have any reason to believe that she’d do such a thing, other than her words and violent actions?

  A. Yes. Not long after Dillon was born, Amanda sold a house on the river to this couple from San Diego. The couple had twins, a boy and a girl, about a year old at the time. They looked like such a happy family. The husband was much older than the wife—a second marriage. About six months after they bought the property, the husband killed the twins and himself with a shotgun that he supposedly kept for protection. The news reports said he thought she was cheating on him, but apparently … Anyway, Amanda and I were talking about the killing, and I said what kind of evil madman would murder his kids just to punish his wife? She said I was clueless, that I should realize that wasn’t the reason he killed his twins at all, that he did it because he realized what a horrible world this is, and he wanted to spare them from suffering in such a horrible world. She said he did a noble thing.

  Q. Did she specifically use the word “noble” to describe the murder-suicide?

  A. That’s exactly the word she used. “Noble.”

  MS. BLAYLOCK: I’ve finished this line of questioning, Your Honor. Maybe it’s a good time to take our afternoon break.

  RECESS TAKEN AT 2:42 P.M.

  JUROR NO. 11

  THE STUDENT

  I feel like the adversary system doesn’t work that well, because how are you supposed to make up your mind? You hear the DA’s opening statement, and it seems like David has to be guilty. Right after that
, you hear from the defense attorney, and you totally change your mind. Then you settle yourself down and try to wipe your conclusions out of your brain and try to follow the judge’s instruction about keeping an open mind, and then the witnesses testify and direct examination goes one way and cross-examination the other, and you go from believing one side to believing the other. It’s even more confusing now that we’re in the jury room. How do you decide at all, much less make the right decision? I’ve continually tried to stay positive, to do the basics that the judge laid down for us. It’s all so confusing. I keep telling myself not to trip. I’m the youngest in this room by ten years. Do I even belong here? I’ve been feeling like a grown-up for a while, but now I’m feeling like a teenager again.

  Me and the Grandmother have bonded. She’s awesome, reminds me of my own grandma, so cute. I’ll try to follow her lead.

  “Lacey contradicted her father,” the Express Messenger says. “David testified that Dillon just sat at the kitchen table as if nothing happened. Lacey testified that Dillon was screaming and crying and covering his ears with his hands. Lacey also left out the part about her yelling and pulling at her mother. She just said that Amanda got angry about the mushroom soup and threw the casserole dish in David’s face.”

  “That’s not much of an inconsistency,” the Housewife says. “It was a long time ago. Memories fade, especially a child’s.”

  “Except that both David and Lacey said their memories of the day were vivid even after all these years,” the Express Messenger says, nodding like he’s some kind of King Solomon or something. “‘Vivid.’ Who uses that word?”

  I don’t like him. He tried to hit on me the third day of trial. He just came into my booth at Subway during lunch and sat across from me with no invite. That’s when the Grandmother and I became friends. She rescued me by sitting down next to me and talking about English novels for the next twenty minutes. I took an English lit class last semester, and she used to teach English literature. We both love Middlemarch and aren’t fans of Jane Austen, think she’s overrated. As for the Express Messenger, he had no idea what we were talking about. The next day, he asked me out. Nope. Not this woman. I feel like guys these days don’t have boundaries, have terrible radar. His radar is totally bad.

  Over at the other end of the table, the Clergyman sits like some Mount Sepulveda, hands folded across his chest, eyes shut. Except for the occasional blink, I would’ve sworn he was asleep.

  The Housewife says, “The fact that David and Lacey told slightly different stories —”

  “Not that slight,” the Grandmother says.

  “Different stories, then—proves that they’re not lying. If they were lying, their stories would be identical, because they would’ve gotten together on it.”

  “Not true,” the Jury Consultant says.

  The Housewife is about to respond, but the Architect places a hand on her wrist and stops her. I like the Housewife. But you know how sometimes a recording artist or an actor who you like a lot becomes overexposed, and then you don’t like them as much anymore? I feel like that’s what’s happening with the Housewife, and we haven’t even been in here very long.

  The room is quiet. Even the Clergyman leans in toward the Jury Consultant.

  “Here’s what I think,” the Jury Consultant says. “Poor liars get together and make up identical stories. Smart liars get together and decide how their stories will diverge—just enough not to sound like there’s a conspiracy afoot, but not so much that they’ll sound incredible.”

  “Are you saying that’s what David and Lacey are? Smart liars?” I ask.

  “Not really. Because the same kind of discrepancies can happen when people are telling the truth. You have to judge credibility in other ways.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “Well, you—”

  Before the Jury Consultant can finish, the Foreperson taps on the table three times. “Let’s take a quick break and maybe we can talk about this witness credibility thing some more. I need more coffee. Does anyone want coffee?”

  JUROR NO. 43

  THE CLERGYMAN

  Although these deliberations are hardly monotonous, it is that oscitant time of late afternoon when, with yawns and droopy eyelids and easy distractibility, the mind and body counsel cessation of labor, while cultural imperatives and institutional exigencies demand continued focus on the business at hand. The Foreperson pours herself another cup of coffee, although the liquid is undoubtedly tepid and charred; the glass pot crackles and sputters when lifted off the hot plate. The Architect pulls out a large bottle of reverse-osmosis bottled water and shares it with the Housewife, dividing it between two clear plastic cups. The Housewife gulps the water down as if desert parched, as she should be after her several long monologues. She sets the cup on the credenza and goes to the ladies’ room, not so surreptitiously removing her cell phone from her purse and dialing, although making calls during deliberations is against the rules. The Express Messenger first tries to converse with the Architect and, after the preordained rebuff, approaches the Foreperson like a contrite Labrador retriever that got the worst of an encounter with a high-pressure lawn sprinkler. He leans over and half whispers something in her ear that I cannot discern but which makes the Foreperson smile a genuine smile. I did not know he had it in him. The Student, the Grandmother, and the Jury Consultant remain at the table, talking about the Jury Consultant’s love for this remote county, such that she is willing to travel to law offices and courthouses across the nation, always returning to Sepulveda. My not-inappropriate eavesdropping—they are speaking somewhat louder than normal so the Grandmother can hear—leads me to conclude that the Jury Consultant moved here six years ago to escape an ever more pressure-filled life in Portland, Oregon. And, of course, to escape the depressive rain.

  With effort, I stand to stretch and activate my wobbly legs, creaky lumbar region, and frozen right shoulder. We will leave for the evening in about one hour if the judge keeps to her schedule, and I will return home to my medications for diabetes, high cholesterol, benign heart arrhythmia (if such a thing can ever be called benign), and hypertension. I will vow to diet and yet will overeat. I will vow to abstain yet will imbibe. I do sometimes wish I were affiliated with a more charismatic religion, that I were, for example, a Pentecostal or a Hasidic Jew, so that I might regard my ill health from a more mystical perspective.

  JUDICIAL COUNCIL

  CRIMINAL JURY

  INSTRUCTION NO. 105

  You alone must judge the credibility or believability of the witnesses. In deciding whether testimony is true and accurate, use your common sense and experience. You must judge the testimony of each witness by the same standards, setting aside any bias or prejudice you may have. You may believe all, part, or none of any witness’ testimony. Consider the testimony of each witness and decide how much of it you believe.

  In evaluating a witness’ testimony, you may consider anything that reasonably tends to prove or disprove the truth or accuracy of that testimony. Among the factors that you may consider are the following:

  How well could the witness see, hear, or otherwise perceive the things about which the witness testified?

  How well was the witness able to remember and describe what happened?

  What was the witness’ behavior while testifying?

  Did the witness understand the questions and answer them directly?

  Was the witness’ testimony influenced by a factor such as bias or prejudice, a personal relationship with someone involved in the case, or a personal interest in how the case is decided?

  What was the witness’ attitude about the case or about testifying?

  Did the witness make a statement in the past that is consistent or inconsistent with his or her testimony?

  How reasonable is the testimony when you consider all the other evidence in the case?

  Did other evid
ence prove or disprove any fact about which the witness testified?

  Did the witness admit to being untruthful?

  What is the witness’ character for truthfulness?

  Has the witness been convicted of a felony?

  Has the witness engaged in (other) conduct that reflects on his or her believability?

  Was the witness promised immunity or leniency in exchange for his or her testimony?

  Do not automatically reject testimony just because of inconsistencies or conflicts. Consider whether the differences are important. People sometimes honestly forget things or make mistakes about what they remember. Also, two people may witness the same event yet see or hear it differently.

  If the evidence establishes that a witness’ character for truthfulness has not been discussed among the people who know him or her, you may conclude from the lack of discussion that the witness’s character for truthfulness is good.

  If you do not believe a witness’ testimony that he or she no longer remembers something, that testimony is inconsistent with the witness’ earlier statement on that subject.

  If you decide that a witness deliberately lied about something significant in this case, you should consider not believing anything that witness says. Or, if you think the witness lied about some things but told the truth about others, you may simply accept the part that you think is true and ignore the rest.

  JUROR NO. 1

  THE FOREPERSON

  Our deliberations are going really good so far. Maybe I should try to get the Housewife to shut up a little more, but I figure she speaks for the Architect, so I’m giving her twice the amount of time. The Architect doesn’t have a thing to say. I knew she was a bitch, but I never saw her as a ditz, especially with the job she has. Even now she’s filing her fingernails with an emery board. How unsanitary. Does she have a hot date, or something? I want to call out, “Excuse me, are we boring you?” But that wouldn’t be fitting for a jury foreperson to say.