This case, as the months went by, came to be known to those around the courthouse (and my house) as simply "Waffle House", the location of the shooting. This was one of those once in a lifetime cases from an evidence standpoint. The police were able to recover amateur video shot at the Waffle House that night that captured the perpetrators flashing gang signs and guns minutes before capturing the sound of multiple gunshots and the ensuing mayhem of hundreds of 3AM revelers fleeing the parking lot. The video captures the gritty reality of "urban" America, a shadow world most fortunate office workers and suburbanites would think only exists in Los Angeles.
Months and months of preparation went into this case. We had ballistics tests done, interviewed witnesses numerous times, had the SBI do some "cutting edge" scientific analysis (that, to no fault of SBI, ended up being worthless). We grew really close to our victim and his family, who are good Christian people.
To explain the case a little further, we had two shooters that we knew of. One defendant confessed to firing a gun, but implicated another in hitting the victim. Another defendant also implicated the second shooter, as did another witness. One bullet lodged in the victim's spine. SBI analyzed X-rays we had done of the victim's spine and gave us an opinion that the bullet fragments were larger caliber than the bullet fired by the first shooter. The casing from the gun fired by the first shooter presented directly in front of a window of the Waffle House which had been shot, but we were unable to recover the projectile from the roof of the restaurant. Nonetheless, it appeared his bullet missed and went into the ether above the Waffle House.
After months of waiting, we had our answer, as best we could-the second shooter paralyzed our victim. We still had no gun and no casings from the second shooter, but we had two co-defendants and a witness putting him there with a revolver (which wouldn't leave casings) and shooting the victim. We had the second shooter flashing gang signs on the amateur video mere minutes before the shooting. We cut deals with co-defendants to plead to lesser charges and testify. We lined up and got ready to roll against the second shooter.
And then things fell apart. Slowly. First, one co-defendant was jumped in jail and "burned out" of the Bloods for "snitching". He later decided not to testify, and for good measure, recanted his original statement and made up some B.S. to exonerate the second shooter (who ranks higher in the gang). Our first shooter (who also pled) changed his story as well, indicating he never saw the second shooter fire. Our SBI expert discovered the radiologist did not scale the X-rays such that an accurate measurement could be made and the previous opinion regarding the caliber of ammo in the victim's spine was now meaningless.
We limped into trial this week, still hoping for the best, hoping to deliver for our victim and his family. Monday saw us hit with a surprise alibi witness (in the form of the defendant's girlfriend) who concealed for over a year the fact that the defendant was with her and couldn't have shot anyone. Two days before trial, she shares this information with the defendant's lawyer and investigator, after keeping it from the police. Yeah, right.
Our first shooter was inadvertently housed in the jail briefly with the defendant, who called him out for being a snitch in front of other Bloods. Our last credible witness, who lived out of town, was nowhere to be found when our investigator showed up to pick him up for court. It took half a day and an Order for Arrest to locate him.
Finally, though, things came together. The judge let us fill the jury in on the defendant's gang involvement. Our first shooter testified to the defendant's intimidation tactics. Our witness from out of town (a brave, brave young man) looked the jurors and the defendant in the eye and pointed him out as the shooter. The alibi witness didn't testify, but the defendant sacrificed his last argument to the jury by calling a convicted felon to lie on the stand for his client. The trial went four days and we ended strong, despite our shortcomings on evidence. Everyone in the courtroom from the bailiffs to the judge to the clerk went from being completely skeptical of our chances to thinking we had the defendant cold.
Everyone but the jury, however. The 12 Wake County citizens got the case at 2:50 PM yesterday. By 4PM, they sent a note out that they were deadlocked. A bailiff posted by the jury door shook his head. It didn't sound good in there. I tried to relax. It is not unusual for juries to have amazing swings in hours of deliberation. This jury had only been at it for about an hour, it was too early to panic. The judge brought them in, instructed them to go back and try to work it out. We prepped our victim for the worst but hoped for the best.
Then, right at 5PM, the knock came: "We have a verdict". The jurors filed in. The usually impressively stoic judge opened the verdict package, and his eyes widened in disbelief. I lowered my head, knowing what was next. The clerk began to read the verdicts. Her voice cracked with each "Not Guilty". The throng of gang members there to support the defendant (and intimidate witnesses and jurors) began cheering like it was high school graduation. The judge quickly silenced them.
The jury was discharged and fled like rats from a sinking ship. None waited in the lobby to so much as express an opinion, mutter a comment to our victim in his wheelchair. Stunned, my colleague and I staggered past the bar into the gallery to talk to the victim, his family and their civil attorney. My female colleague and my legal assistant were already in tears. As soon as I saw the victim, he smiled, shook my hand thanked me for all my hard work. I couldn't hold back then, just like I can't hold back now.
I failed, I thought. I failed the victim, I failed the citizens of this city, county and state. I failed civilized America and let street thugs manipulate our system. A murderous thug was being released and it was my fault. And here, my victim and his family, telling us we did all we could and they were glad we fought for them. My victim, who will never again chase his daughter on his own two feet, smiled and told me it was going to be alright.
Then, after the shock wore off, I realized my colleague and I did do just about everything we could. We tried as hard as we could to get people who think gun violence is just another part of life and that "snitching" (ie telling the truth) is a cardinal sin to convince a jury to convict a madman.
I realized it wasn't me who failed, it was the jury. The jury who took a mere two hours to deliberate on four days of evidence. The jury who had two holdouts who gave up and drowned rather than fight the tide. The jury who came back at 5PM Thursday so they wouldn't have to come back on a Friday. They jury who didn't have the decency to stay and explain or discuss their decision.
At many points throughout the trial, I was prepared to lose. Had the jury deliberated long and hard, I would have had an easier time accepting an acquittal. To reach a conclusion on such a case in a mere 2 hours means their minds were made up going in.
My faith was restored a little bit today, when the foreman of the jury gave me a call. I could tell from his voice he was sick over the verdict. His voice matched my mood, I told him. He said he "knew in his gut" the defendant was guilty. He and another man held out, but there was no swaying the other 10. He complimented me and my colleague, expressed dismay as I told him of the evidence we couldn't present and the defendant's penchant for gun violence when he is allowed out and about. I ultimately felt better, though I imagine he didn't.
But, after all, he won't see this again. Sure, if he watches the news, he may hear a terrible story of a house being shot up in a gang retaliation. Of a child being murdered. I hope he doesn't, but if he does, he can change the channel. That case will land on my desk, or that of a colleague. And if I don't get that case, I will get the next one, or the one after that. The fruit of gang violence floods our office with files like children's letters at the North Pole.
I am disappointed that 12 citizens let the system get jobbed by a high school dropout who would kill an average citizen to gain status in a gang. Who used jail telephones and mail to intimidate witnesses and call out hits on snitches.
I don't want to get into the how and why or assignment of fault about why gangs are so prevalent in certain communities. Some would argue more fathers would be around to raise these young men right if the racist police and the racist system wouldn't persist in locking them up. Others would counter that it is up to the community to break the legacy of crime and the lure of easy money through drugs and violence. Whatever the reason behind the gang epidemic, it is growing, and the distrust, disdain and outright hatred of the perceived system of white authority grows along with it.
The problem with the gang epidemic is it largely preys on its own community. So, folks who already distrust authority are victimized by the gangs, refuse to come forward for fear of retaliation, and end up in a state of terror and distrust for a system that can do nothing. If ordinary citizens on juries can't speak for those folks, our entire system will someday crumble and give way to anarchy.
I apologize for the length of this rambling post. I write this as catharsis-to get it out once and for all and move on. We will sentence 3 of the 4 original defendants next week to prison. This one will, for now, be the one that got away. Batting .750 ain't bad, and I guess it's good that I care. The alternative could be walking around with eyes that, as the jury foreman stated in describing the defendant, indicated "no one was home in there". There's a Halloween thought for you...
Anyway, thanks for being there to hear me vent. Sometimes the pressure adds up and my job is pretty tough, but I am glad and feel privileged I get to fight this fight everyday, just like my dad did before me. I want everyone to know that.
