Excused

I arrived at the courthouse early, of course.  I walked through the courtyard which a tv reporter asked me questions.  I walked up the steps TBG helped me up when we went for the sentencing hearing.  I went through the security checkpoint I'd wheeled through over a decade ago.

Over a decade ago.  I thought the panic would have eased up by now.  Apparently not.  By the time I got to the elevator, I was back in my own personal space, remembering what happened and how it felt and what it looked like when the corridor was filled with reporters and various hangers-on.

It didn't help that the Jury Assembly Room was named after Judge John Roll, whose death led to one of the 7 life sentences our shooter received. 

Walking (not limping) into the same courtroom I'd entered eleven years and five days ago, I was impressed by the fact that the lawyers and the defendant and the judge's staff all stood as we entered.  It was a show of respect.  It impressed upon me the seriousness of the whole affair, and the value the participants placed on those of us joining them in the judging.  

It was humbling.  

The judge introduced himself and his staff, including the US Attorneys who would be trying the case.  He explained the process, including the why's and when's so that there would be no confusion.  He asked if anyone was feeling ill, and the man wearing the face mask raised his hand.  After describing his symptoms (coughing, sneezing, negative COVID test) the judge thanked him for wearing a mask and excused him from service.

Then he asked if anyone knew someone in the US Attorney's office.  Up went my hand.  

Who did I know?  The lead prosecutors on my case.

Did I recognize that they were not involved in this case?  Sure did, but I had to acknowledge the very fine job they did in convicting the person who shot Judge Roll and Gabby and me.

Did I think I could render a fair verdict after hearing the evidence?  My voice was shaking as I admitted that, in spite of guilt or innocence, I feared that I would be unable to decide that another young man would spend the rest of his life in a cell.  I told him that I am haunted by the fact of the shooter in a box.  I just didn't know if I could do it again.

He listened impassively, even as deep breaths were drawn by those around me.  

"Given that you feel you will be unable to judge this case without bias, I will excuse you from service at this time."

I walked out, down the hallway where I met Brenda Starr for the first time, and I smiled. There were some very wonderful moments that happened when our trial was going on, and collecting a new friend is certainly one of them.  

But, I'm not unhappy to be removed from that space.  I've spent much too much time going over it in my head.  I don't need a daily reminder.  I'm glad I escaped.

I don't think I shirked my civic duty.  I think I did what was best for me and for the system.