A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

The charges: possession of PCP; possession of a handgun; possession of ammunition and a magazine for the handgun. The defendant: a twenty five year old black male. The judge: the honorable Thomas John Motley, Associate Judge, the Superior Court of the District of Columbia. The jury: four white men, two white women, three black men, one black woman, one Chinese-American man, one Philippine-American woman.

Alerted by an undercover officer in a fixed surveillance vehicle, officers converge on a car with two occupants. As the first officer arrives the driver exits the vehicle. Both the driver and the vehicle smell of PCP smoke. More officers arrive at the scene. The driver informs the police that PCP is in the map pocket of the door on the driver's side of the car. Another officer finds a full clip of 9mm shells hidden inside a work glove on the back seat. Further inspection of the car reveals a handgun hidden under the spare tire in the trunk. From paperwork in the car the police also discover that it is a rental, rented by the driver (who had the only set of keys) three days earlier.

No crime scene tech unit is available, so police photograph the evidence in place as originally discovered, bag it, and transport it to District Five headquarters, where a Sergeant trained as an evidence technician attempts to take prints. He uses too much black powder and smudges the only two prints available, from a vial of PCP and from the handgun. These prints may well have been unusable in any case — each having fewer than eight points for comparison they are of "no value."

Defense counsel, probably a public defender, was an idiot. When, for example, one of the witnesses said he had heard someone else say something, she objected on the grounds of hearsay. Obviously, her idea of "hear-say" was fundamentally in error. She badgered all the witnesses. She would, for example, throw down a report in front of an officer, scornfully remarking that "you wrote this report, didn't you?" Not surprisingly, someone else had written it, from some other office. She was chronically in error, always fishing. In her opening and closing statements she insisted that the prosecution's case would "collapse like a house of cards." I would guess her IQ was about 110.

To be honest, the prosecutor wasn't much better. She didn't have a clear idea where she was going. She didn't tie up loose ends. She didn't establish a narrative. She didn't seem to be in command of the law. In her closing arguments she failed to explain to the jury why the evidence presented was sufficient for a finding of guilt.

Judge Motley (given a 9.9 for "courtroom control" by the Washington City Paper) was well tempered throughout the trial. He made a superhuman effort to not display any sympathy for either prosecution or defense, and he succeeded. On several points of law I believe he may have made errors. Despite being a Harvard Law graduate I'd guess he's not super-duper bright, but in terms of temperament he was outstanding. It's a difficult job — I tremendously admired his performance.

To my surprise, the quality of the jury was very high. Discussion was nuanced, complex, sincere. The atmosphere was entirely cordial.

The jury was somewhat divided. On the PCP count we agreed easily that the defendant was guilty. On the handgun and magazine charges, however, some jurors felt there was reasonable doubt. Several jurors had difficulty with the definition of "possession" &mdash in this instance what's called "constructive possession" — and particularly the notion of joint possession. The alternative narrative was that the passenger (who was the driver's brother) had hidden the handgun and the magazine without informing the defendant. Without knowledge, therefore there could be no possession. One juror felt that both had knowledge but that the magazine might have been in the possession only of the passenger.

By Friday morning I'd realized that the jurors leaning towards a not guilty verdict on the second and/or third counts would make up their minds not on the basis of fact and logic but on being able to feel comfortable with their decision. As foreman, my plan, then, was to let people talk themselves out. Which they did. One juror in particular was extremely helpful, a ninety-five year old black man, a former Army Sergeant Major, born and bred in DC, who'd been very active in DC politics. His thoughtful comments helped people adjust and listen to one another. In appearance, by the way, he looked to be about seventy. A remarkable character!

I was mentally prepared to sit through discussions even if we never reached a verdict. To my surprise I managed fairly easily to suppress even the slightest twinge of impatience. For the most part I allowed people to speak as they liked, but I did direct the discussion at certain points.

Towards the end it was critical, I think, that one juror realized a photograph (we had a huge blow-up of it in the jury room) of the defendant taken after his arrest could be used as a basis for finding fact. Neither the prosecution nor the defense had chosen to speak about the character of the defendant. In court he was neatly groomed and sat quietly with a choir-boy expression. In his arrest photo, however, he had long dreadlocks and a dead, threatening expression in his eyes. Thinking about his character the juror finally realized how unlikely it was that he and his brother were not fully in cahoots.

I have no idea what sentence Judge Motley imposed (or will impose if he'd set sentencing for next week). I suppose it depends in part on the defendant's past criminal record, if any, and what the defendant says to the judge when asked.

It would be nice to hope that the public defender's office and the DC Attorney's office could be improved but that's probably unrealistic. Nevertheless, the DC court system has reason to be proud of its judges! Overall, justice was well served.