...Or so I had thought.

At the point at which both sides rested their cases, the judge turned the trial over to the jury. She informed us all that we were to ascertain the guilt or innocence of the defendant using only the given testimony. She then explained the meaning of 'reasonable doubt' and listed the four items the defendant was on trial for. The first two were home invasion in the first degree and armed robbery. The third item was receiving and concealing stolen property, in this case it was his use of the stolen brown mini-van to drive to and from the house he had robbed. And finally the big one, a very big felony firearms conviction. The rub here ran both ways. We could find him guilty of "pretending" to have a gun during a committed robbery or find him guilty for using the stolen shotgun in the robbery.  I thought it was pretty slam dunk and was starting to plan my afternoon.

Single file we were lead into the jury room. It was a small room with a very large table surrounded by very old office chairs. Towards the rear of the room was a chalk board and to the right were two small windows that did not open. Everyone quietly took a seat. I was as if we were not to speak about the case until we were told it was OK. The deputy broke the stalemate and informed us that we will need make a list of all of our names and highlight the person who had been elected lead juror. I had never been elected to anything in my life up until then and thought this may be an interesting time to start campaigning. "I would be happy to volunteer as lead juror, raise your hand if you are not cool with that", I spoke. It was unanimous and I now ruled over all in the room. As lead juror, I took one of the sheets of paper in the middle of the large table and wrote my full name and in parentheses " LEAD JUROR". I then handed the paper to my right and asked all to write their name under mine.It went around and came back and someone asked "What do we do now?".

I stood up next to the chalk board and wrote the four things the young man was on trial for. I did my best to remember to write them just as the judge had spoken them to us, but there was something lost in translation. One of the jurors asked if we could get the formal definitions of each of the charges. I thought that may be a great idea and wrote the request on a scrap of paper and knocked on the closed door. The deputy opened the door read the note and said, "We are getting those for you" as she closed the door. It was now almost 4pm and I thought that they may not get delivered until the morning, if we don't convict right not. So, I asked that while we are waiting, we should all take a scrap of paper, one of the plethora of little gold pencils that were in a box on table and take a secret vote. We would vote on only if each of us thought the defendant was guilty or innocent on all four charges then hand each ballot forward. I again asked if there was anyone who had a problem to raise a hand. No one did, and we started to vote.

The scraps of folded paper began to make their way in front of me. I swirled the pile of paper like an idiot child shuffles playing cards. Reading the votes, I began to understand that this could go on for a very long time. The votes were for 11 not guilty and 1 guilty. I was in the minority and amazed that no one else thought he was guilty. Had we all not watched the same video where the defendant admitted to every charge? It would now be on me to convince 11 strangers of the young man's guilt. My money making scheme of prolonging civil participation looked like it was coming to fruition. As an artist, my calendar was wide open and I would welcome the chance to try and sway the beliefs of a roomful of people. During this quiet moment of adding up the money Wayne County will be paying me per day, one of the older housewives spoke up, "I voted not guilty because we don't have the proper descriptions of the charges". Another women  agreed with that statement with a quick "yea, me too". It was late in the afternoon and my doubts about finding a guilty verdict began to bear fruit when a knock came. The deputy entered and told us we were done for the day and gave us instructions to return in the morning. There was the expected demand that we not speak of the case to anyone and we all nodded knowing full well we were all going to talk to someone about it. Quietly, we all then went our separate ways.

Evening came and I told my wife all about my day before bed. The morning commute gave me time to plot my course. It wasn't that I wanted to convict an innocent man. I really believed that this young man was guilty and he needed to have small room reserved in one of Michigan's many prisons. I wasn't willing to give in to the majority. I would need to convince them of my beliefs or they would need to convince me that I was wrong. My morning was beginning to have a routine, casino parking, courthouse security, and then the wait to enter the court room. We were all escorted to our small room and the door was shut. Everyone took the sames seats as yesterday and I noticed that there was a small stack of stapled forms on our table. Reaching for them, I saw that they were formal descriptions of the four charges. This was a good start. Our vote hash marks and my less than perfect descriptions from the day before were wiped away in a cloud of white dust. I then explained to the group that we should break the process down into four chunks that were easily swallowed. The first course would be 1st Degree Home Invasion. Writing "Home Invasion" on the board, I read aloud it's description from the prepared form and readied a public vote.

The vote did not go as planned. A show of hands and 3 guilty versus 9 innocent hash marks were placed on the board. As lead juror, a discussion as to why 3 of us believe the defendant would begin. My theory of guilt was that the defendant admitted on video that he entered the home of the victims uninvited and with the intent of robbing its inhabitants. By either using a gun or pretending he had a gun, he 'invaded' the space of a family home that was not his own. A gun or promise of a gun equals violence and uninvited entry into a dwelling equals the definition of Home Invasion. "I bet they didn't think anyone was home", added one of my fellow guilty vote jurors. I made my argument for guilt on this charge, now I explained that it was up to the remaining 9 to try and change our minds. A middle aged housewife with a Russian accent spoke,"What kind of family buys a young boy a Scarface coat for Christmas? I think he was in on it". Her comment was like like someone slapping me in the dark. "Yea, maybe he was gonna sell the stuff and split the money with the boy" another juror added. "Wait, when was this brought up during the trial?" I explained, trying to wright a boat that was about to turn turtle. "We are only supposed to look at facts, none of these things were brought up. Don't you think the defendant would have mentioned this during his questioning?", I offered. I again reminded my fellow jurors that we were asked to use the given facts and none of what they expressed were based upon reality. "This isn't Judge Judy", I reminded them. The fact is that I too felt that a jacket, meant for a child's Christmas gift, emblazoned with the embroidered image of Al Pacino portraying a drug king pin murderer stunk of poor white trash. In so many words I agreed with the two women, but added that a poor choice of children's Christmas gifts do not make a family free to rob. The defendant and his accomplice entered the home uninvited using the promise of violence if they were denied entry, the nine jurors standing on the opposite side of the fence would need to show why they believe he is innocent of this first charge. "Well, if we are only voting on this one thing, then yes he is guilty of home invasion. I think", the one housewife who yesterday demanded the formal definitions spoke. 4 guilty and 8 innocent. The tide was turning if only for this one count. I began to imagine how hard it was going to be for the next three counts. The rest of the jury that was in the not guilty camp was asked to state reasons. The young man in the Red Wings jacket began to fluster and then spoke, "I didn't believe the guy who lived there, he said the kid had what looked like a long gun under his coat. If you are in the army, you only call rifles long guns". He made a valid point, but I reminded him that the prosecuting attorney is the one who asked if it looked like he had a long gun. The guy was only answering that yes it did look long. One of the retired line workers blurted out, "What the hell do you know about being in the fucking army?".

A few minutes of simmering down took place. I was shocked. The juror that had made the coarse statement about being in the fucking army was one who was voting from the not guilty camp. I thought he probably was having a little problem with changing his vote and was feeling uncomfortable. So I comforted him by reminding everyone that votes may change as we discuss the case and we all heard what we chose to hear and must rely on others in this room to help fill in what me missed. Acknowledging that I indeed missed the long gun gaffe, but reiterated that as a member of the armed forces, the witness, would probably not find it prudent to correct someone who he deemed as a superior. "So do you think he was lying about believing he had a gun?", I asked. "Well, no. I just think if the guy was faking, the army guy should have done something" he bubbled up. Well the guy did what he was told of him, by a man who he believed had a gun pointed at him. "Would you have risked your life for an Xbox and a Scarface coat?", I asked. A quiet "No" could be heard. So, I added, did the defendant gain entry into the house by either pretending to have or really having a gun under his coat. I asked for a show of hands. There were a few jury members who hesitated by waiting to see how the person next to them would vote, but in the end I counted 12 guilty verdicts. Home Invasion in the first degree was down, only three more counts to go.

Time had really slipped by in the closed room. A what had felt like hours was indeed hours. Thinking that the wind was at my back, I thought that we should move towards the stolen car charge. In the video the young man readily admitted to using the 'found' car to drive to and from the robbery. The cop on the video doing the questioning asked the guy, "You stole the car?". His response was that they found it in an apartment complex unlocked and he didn't steal it. Like everyone who finds a car unlocked is free to drive it around. So, I wrote Receiving and concealing stolen property on the chalk board and read aloud the formal definition. Reminding my fellow jurors of the video of his confession of driving a stolen van to the robbery, I asked for show of hands. My belief that this day was becoming an augment over the price of tomatoes with a group of mongoloids began to fade like the morning fog as I saw 12 hands voting guilty on the second charge. It was a true ray of light and I added guilty next to the charge on the chalk board. My happiness was tarnished as I remembered the last two charges, probably the most difficult to argue, armed robbery and the felony firearms charge.

So far there had been a few jurors that had remained quiet and I began to really want to know what they felt. I thought if I could get them to share their feelings, I could exploit them and possibly get them to vote guilty on all four charges. I called for a secret vote with scraps of paper after writing armed robbery on the board and again reading the prepared formal definition. The count came up 5 versus 7. Not guilty had won this battle and I was a little disheartened. First welcoming the fellow members who voted for guilt to state their case and not getting a response, I took the floor. Reading from the definition of armed robbery, I found a line that stated that the defendant only needs to pretend to have a weapon. It doesn't matter if he had a gun or was using his finger. If he intends to make his victims to believe he has a weapon in order to rob them, it is armed robbery. "But, I don't think he had a gun", came a voice from the far corner. She was a middle aged black woman. "Do you believe he pretended to have a gun?", I asked. She said she didn't know. I reminded her that she had voted guilty on the count of home invasion and, according to the witness, the defendant invaded the house using what he believed to be a gun. "Do you want to change your home invasion vote?", I asked her. She shook her head no. Then the housewife with the Russian accent spoke up, "But they didn't find a gun when he shot the cop. You would think they would do a gun powder test on his hand". This idiot woman would be a problem. Her stupid comments at the wrong time only worked to direct focus away from reality. "The guy is not on trial for shooting at the cop", I stated. But she continued about ideas of police corruption and insurance scams. I cracked, "Shut UP! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TAKING ABOUT?". Maybe her husband beats her mercilessly, but I found it refreshing that she shut up when a complete stranger yelled at her to shut up. A quiet knock upon the door and the deputy poked in. "Everything all right?", she asked. A quick YUP and nods from a few fellow jurors dispelled any rumors that I was being a complete asshole. Cooley, wanting to put my little outburst behind me, I reiterated that we can only use the facts that we have been given and this is not some television crime drama. This trial is not about crooked cops and insurance scams. Our job is to find guilt or innocence with the facts we heard during the trial and not dreams we saw on late night television.

It was nearing 11 and I figured we would asked to take a lunch soon. Not wanting to undo some of the earned guilty votes, I chose to talk about little things about the trial and play out the clock. It was good call and I liked the idea of riding the People Mover train. Things were looking good and the idea of this experience being solely a money making venture was replaced by a feeling that I could do something really important. I could help place a young criminal in jail for a very long time. With that Idea, I felt invigorated and ready for an afternoon of vote swaying. Lunch was over and I returned to the hall of justice.

One by one, jurors were let in by the deputy. One of the older housewives crowed that she won $500 at the casino. Everyone was happy for her. I thought that I could use news of her win later on, if I needed it, to show the example of long odds. Soon we were all seated and our afternoon together could begin. I began by standing and offering my best heartfelt apology to the Russian housewife for loosing my cool and raising my voice. I told her that today had been very stressful and that I was sorry.  She uttered a quiet "ok". SUCKERS. A quick reminder of where we stood in regards to guilt, reminded most what we where there for. "So far we have voted guilty on both home invasion and the stolen car charges", I called out. There were no objections and I did not ask if anyone wanted to change a vote. I read aloud the prepared armed robbery description and asked if everyone understood it. There were a few nods, so I asked again "Is there any questions about armed robbery?". A younger girl juror spoke up, "But he never took anything". I agreed with her. But, I also remarked that he need not steal anything to be charged with armed robbery. He would only need to take part in the robbery by not preventing it or allowing it to happen by holding the victim at gunpoint. "But what if he didn't have a gun", blurted one of the jurors. I again reminded everyone that the vote for home invasion was unanimous and that he invaded the house using what looked like a gun. A few nods sprouted. "We all voted that he is guilty of home invasion, right?", I added. More nods sprouted. I had to choose my next words very carefully as I could feel that a majority of my fellow jurors were picking up what I was putting down. "How many people think he pretended or really had a gun?", I asked. A collection of nods and hands made me happy. "But he didn't take anything", the older black juror spoke. Then a spark, "He took the cell phone and the shotgun", I said. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea and eyes became very wide. You could see a very dim light being turned on in the heads of several jurors. "Yea, he took the shot gun", one of the older factory rats bloomed. Armed robbery had to be in the bag. I demanded a show of hands.

Goddam it. Four jurors voted not guilty of armed robbery. What the fuck was wrong with these idiots? "He didn't take anything and what if he didn't have a gun", one of the female jurors asked. I looked directly at her and in a very calm voice asked, "Did he take the cell phone or the shotgun?". She did not want to answer. "Can we watch the video again?", came from a member of the not guilty camp. Good idea. I wrote the request to see the video one more on a small scrap of paper and knocked on the door. It took a couple of minutes but the door opened and the deputy took the scrap of paper. The door shut quickly, but I could see the two tables in the courtroom were occupied by a new set of lawyers and a new defendant. It was interesting how quickly the wheels of justice churned out new trials before one was even finished. I stood for a few minutes, expecting the deputy to wheel in the television and the DVD player. No one really spoke as we waited for the television. After what felt like an eternity, we heard a soft knock and the door opened. The deputy stepped in and closed the door. "The judge wants you to use only what you remember, I cannot bring the TV in", she said. DAMMIT. I kind of wanted to see that little asshole admit to all the crimes he is being accused of doing again. The deputy turned and left, closing the door.

"Did he take the shotgun or cell phone", was the only ammo I could muster. I then asked if anyone remembers how they were able to trace him to the house he was staying at the night he ran from the cops. "He had that cell phone he took", the factory rat bubbled. A few of the jurors looked as if their fight against armed robbery was a lost cause. But, I could see that a few jurors may have thought that the theft of a cell phone may not warrant such stiff penalties. A few even brought up the idea that a cell phone was not worth going to jail for. We are not handing out penalties, we are only asked to find guilt or innocence, I reminded everyone. I then began a ring of circular logic that began with the idea that if he invaded the house pretending to have a gun, and he stole something, he had to be guilty of committing armed robbery. If we all thought he invaded the house with what was believed to be a gun and things were stolen, then that's armed robbery. A show of hands was asked for. The Russian housewife and the remaining three jurors caved. It was unanimous. Three charges were down and one very big one was left.

I dressed the chalk board for the final charge by underling the unanimous votes and the word guilty beside each of the charges. I read the definition of a felony firearms conviction and wrote it on the board. This was going to be a very hard uphill struggle because the only firearm he ever admitted to having possession of was the shotgun. In my eyes, just holding a stolen shotgun during a robbery made him guilty of felony firearms. But, getting all twelve of my fellow jurors to see my way would take an act of a very angry god. I thought that, if I start slow and gather a following, I could pull the fence sitters toward my side and have a majority. A quarry of circular logic needed to be mined. If home invasion equals armed robbery, then armed robbery equals felony firearms I began. "But what if he didn't have a gun", spoke the black female juror who was not buying my logic. "They never found a gun", she added. Yes, they never did find a gun. But he admitted to taking the shot gun I thought. The stolen shotgun had to be the key towards a felony firearms conviction. "He had the shotgun", I stated. "If my house was being robbed by two strangers and one of them pointed my own shotgun at me, I would be pretty scared", I said. "But, he didn't use the shotgun to rob the house", the Russian housewife added. JESUS, why was she not shutting the fuck up?!

Yelling at the fucking idiot was not an option. I knew I had to address her deepest fears. Family is probably everything for everyone but your average American. So, I began to weave a detailed 'what if' tale and placed the family of our Russian bride in the center of it. It was a great story, worthy of the worst television crime drama. The story took root when I reminded her that her kids are at home alone without her, the police never did find the stolen shotgun and we never did learn if they ever arrested the other guy. I ended by asking her how she thought her child would feel if there was a stranger standing over them with a shotgun and she was not home to protect them. A few of my fellow jurors chimed in with a helpful, "Yea, what about your children" and a "He could have shot that guy if he fought back".

At this point, I didn't want to take a vote. I wanted those people who really believed he was not guilty of felony firearms to believed they stood alone. I believed that the second the defendant touched the victims shotgun, he was guilty of felony firearms. I threw the few not guilty jurors a bone by agreeing that he was not guilty up until he touched the shot gun. That did it for one juror, she was a younger girl who was doing her best to be compassionate and was having issues ordering someone her own age to prison for a very long time. I reminded her that up until he took hold of the shotgun, the defendant could have just walked out of the house and not been charged with anything (a lie). But, he made a choice to take hold of the shotgun. He made a choice. He made it himself. I think I had her vote.

"You people don't know what its like", came from the corner of the room. She was a middle aged black woman who was one of the last of the hold outs. Throughout the day, her chair had been moving slowly away from the table and towards the far wall. She was sequestering herself. This trial was becoming very personal to her. "You don't know what it's like for that boy and where he is from. You all just want to put him in jail". she stuttered. She was right. I knew nothing of growing up in poverty and robbing people at gun point. I did want this kid in jail. "What do you mean? You know nothing of who I am or how I grew up." I said calmly and compassionately. I added, "The only thing you know about me and I know about you is the color of our skin. We promised the judge that our decision would not be prejudiced by race". I quickly put together a story of my life that turned my white suburban upbringing into an urban childhood ravaged by drug violence and death. The woman and I were now connected by a fragile thread. Then I added a sprinkling of choice and consequence. Everyone in that room has made choices in life, even me and I'm was not proud of some of the choices I had made in my own life. But I did not share the dire consequences of my poor choices with others. Looking at the woman who had won at the casino during lunch, "You made a choice to play the slot machines at the casino at lunch. You won. Are you going to share your consequences? Are you going to give us all a share of what you chose to do on your own?". "Hell no!", she laughed.

"There you go", I said. This young man woke up that day and every choice he made led him towards this robbery. He could have said "No" to stealing the mini van and we would have never been called for jury duty. There was quite a few nods from people who just before had little or no opinion. It was a good sign. "He could have knocked on the door and then just walked away. But he didn't", I urged and then added "He could have stopped his friend from going upstairs to steal Christmas gifts, but he didn't". Then I reminded all of them that those two thieves stole a wedding ring. OK, I'm married but I don't wear a wedding ring. Hell, I don't even know where the damn thing is and I don't give a rats ass about the whole wedding ring idea. But, me fellow jurors didn't need to know that. No, they needed to know that I felt wedding bands were a representation of the love between two people. How those two people made a promise to each other, they made a lifetime vow of love. And those two thieves broke that vow by stealing the ring. It was a very good speech. I was better than when I've been on job interviews and they ask "Why do you want to work for us". At that point, I thought a very pretty bow was on the wrapped package and calmly called on a final vote on the felony firearms vote. It was unanimous. Fucking-A. We now had guilty written on the chalkboard next to each charge, but I need to confirm. I asked that we all vote one last time. This vote would be a blanket vote for all four charges. There were a few hesitating hands, but it was also unanimous. The cat was in the bag and I knocked on the door.

The deputy opened the door and I told her we were finished and it was unanimous. Nodding she said, "Ok, it will be a few minutes" and she closed the door. I figured they had to call the lawyers back and go next door to the county jail to get the defendant from his cell. My nightmare at that point was that someone would start talking about the case and someone else would change their fucking vote. That could not be allowed to happen, so I started a joyful conversation about how lush the Detroit casinos are. (They are shitholes) Most everyone lit up with some story of a friend of a friend who won big at the MGM. A few agreed that the luscious buffet at the Motorcity was the best in the city. Everyone was lit up with banal conversation. Everyone except the lone black woman in the corner. She was having a problem with this entire experience. Well, tough shit on her. I had the votes and this kid was going to prison.

It felt like an eternity had passed when a knock came. The deputy opened the door and quietly ushered us to our seats in the jury box. In the courtroom audience was maybe five people. The defendant's family? The defendant was still wearing the same new clothes from the first day we saw him. I found that interesting. The judge entered the room from her chambers and we were ordered to stand. "I have been told that you all have reached verdicts in regards to the four charges", she spoke. She then asked that all may be seated except for the lead juror. It was a kind of weird standing alone. All eyes turned towards me. The judge then ordered me to state my name. What the fuck was that all about? This kid is going to prison and for the next two decades and the only name that will be rolling around his thick skull during his shower rapes will be mine. Eh, so what. "ChrisTopher Wayne Crowder", I spoke in a clear voice. She then began on the list of charges, "On the first count of Home Invasion in the first degree, what is your verdict?" In a clear voice I spoke, "Guilty". She moved to the next, "On the second count of Armed Robbery, what is your verdict?". "Guilty", I repeated. "On the count of Receiving or Concealing stolen property, what is your verdict?", she asked. Again I stated, "Guilty". As I had been confirming our findings of guilt, my eyes never left the defendant's gaze. I looked him right in the eyes and he never flinched. "What is your finding on the fourth count of Felony Firearms?', the judge asked. "Guilty", I stated.

It was over. The judge instructed the deputy to return us to our assigned room and she did as instructed. The  room was very quiet as we just stood there, then one of the housewives spoke, "He didn't even blink". I think they all now understood that the young man was indeed guilty and what he did was a terrible thing. He was not a weeping brittle snowflake. He was a thug. The door then opened and the deputy softly pushed her way in and closed the door. When she turned around she had the biggest smile on face that I had ever seen. "You guys did good", she announced. "Did you know that the guy he did the robbery with confessed and plead guilty. This guy thought he could get off", she added. I could see a sign of relief come over some in the room. They were now comfortable with their votes. "And last night the kid wrote a letter to the judge admitting to everything and saying how sorry he was for what he did. He knew he was going to be found guilty", the deputy said. Because there had been so much confusion on it, I wanted to get confirmation on the felony firearms charge. "Did the simple act of holding the stolen shotgun during the robbery make him guilty? What about just pretending he had a gun?", I asked. "Hell yes", the deputy stated in a quick snap. With that answer I could see another wave of relief float over the faces of a few of the jurors. At that point the door behind the deputy opened. It was the judge. She was a small lady. She was smiling. She thanked us all for our service and repeated the deputy in saying that we did a very good thing.  Our day in court was over.

It was official. When I left that courtroom, I was an adult. Just as an old man wags his finger for stray children to "get off my lawn". I ordered a rude young man to get out of my world. Well, until he is released from prison. Being an adult is fun.

Several months later, I checked up on the young defendant via the internet. The Michigan Department of Corrections maintains a website for accessing offender information. http://mdocweb.state.mi.us/OTIS2/otis2profile.aspx?mdocNumber=643293
The above link points to Mr. Joe Leroy Gentry. The earliest he could get out of prison is 2020.
It is good to be an adult.