The criminality in criminal justice
Earlier this week I made an entry (read it here) of a rewritten letter I penned to the two individuals who car-jacked me during my time in Colorado Springs, Colorado (read here). Beginning with the altercation and continuing through the trial and sentencing phase, the entire experience was surreal.
When teaching in Philly I had feelings that ran counter to the popular opinion of jury duty. I saw receiving a summons as the equivalent of waking up, being told it's my birthday, then opening a card from my estranged uncle containing an all-inclusive day spa gift card.
Informing this deviant belief was my role as a teacher. Close to 8 hours of my day was spent pacing a classroom, never sitting more than ten minutes total, and staying ever vigilant for the slightest hint of rebellion (to encourage!). 90% of my excitement came from being legally required to take a paid day off with no effect on my personal time. Uncle Sam was making me wake up three hours later than usual, sit without being talked at for a professional development, and giving me free rein to engage in stationary activities of my own choosing (or complete grading and lesson plans...).
With that said, the remaining 10% was a desire to see the inner workings of our legal system. For a multitude of reasons, I wanted to be selected for a criminal trial. I like the idea of using critical thinking skills in an attempt to provide justice in a system we should expect to find it in abundance. While my return to CO Springs for the trial of an accused assailant involved a scant few moments on the opposite side of the juror box, I felt it was massively more eye-opening.
When I arrived at the District Attorney’s office for a pre-trial meeting with the prosecuting attorneys I saw a sizeable and highly coordinated legal team. The gathering was cordial and the lawyers as bright-eyed and alert as could be reasonably expected. Questions were asked and answered, laughs were exchanged, and after fifteen minutes I was guided to the courtroom. I sat and awaited directions from the judge and the entrance of the accused. Once the man (they only caught one of the two) accused of the crimes against me was brought into the courtroom a flood of observations flowed into just as many questions and criticisms.
The defendant was a tall and young black male with a dialect and skin tone starkly different than all others in the room, excluding myself and his family. I then noticed the appearance of his defense team. They were visibly tired and audibly disorganized. This is not meant as a criticism of their professionalism and capability. Rather, it is a juxtaposition to the appearance, perceived strength, and capability of the DA team.
My time spent on the witness stand was simple and quick. I answered questions from both sides of the legal table, participated in the lawyers’ dance of cross-examination, then returned to my seat. I could leave but I had already decided to stay throughout the rest of the proceedings and those the next day. After all was said and done I asked myself
Why didn’t the public defender call me out on my statements that were blatantly contradictory to evidence, prior accounts, or were of a vague nature?
How is it that no one is questioning the clearly leading questions the detective is asking my accused in the interrogation video?
and my most mind-boggling question
How are my court testimony and recollection of events being given weight when the crime happened almost two years ago?
I spent time with my friend who was also involved in the incident, as well as their family. I will not disrespect or detail their thoughts and feelings because they have every right and justification for their stances. What I can say is because I lacked anger and desire for retribution against my assailants I was free to consider additional perspectives of the case
The perpetrators wore masks and it was an almost pitch-black night, with the exception of a dim parking area lamp post.
Only one mask was found, devoid of biological evidence from the accused.
His fingerprints were found on a gun in the car, but I do not see how my brief flash and description of the weapon could be used to link it to my assault.
It was pitch black and all I could provide was a gross estimation of height and age based on a man’s voice muffled by a mask and my adrenaline.
It was all absolute bullshit. While I have no legal background and very little knowledge of anything beyond that courtroom I feel justified in my complete lack of conviction for this man’s potential for one. For the first time since my few seconds of anger two years ago I felt a heat growing inside me. How could anyone feel confident beyond a doubt of his guilt?
They did. He was found guilty.
The assault played a major part in the education support and activism I began immediately after the ordeal. When I got word of his conviction I was asked if I could attend the sentencing hearing in a month or two. There I would be able to verbally confront (and most likely expected to condemn) him. I could not. However, on the day of the hearing I received a call. I was told that in a few minutes I could confront my accused via phone if I wished.
I sent a text to my supervisor. I was going to be late for work.
I used the opportunity to express my ponderings birthed from the trial. I stated my inability to judge, lack of confidence in his purported guilt, and my perception of his defense team. That if he was guilty I was disappointed with him. But regardless, I was more disappointed in a legal system that may have unjustly accused him or our society that perpetuates conditions where he felt armed robbery was necessary to avert hunger or fill an emotional hole.
I hastily set up my webcam to record my statement available below or here <link>. I needed to archive my words on his influence on me and the development of my Educated Empathy workshops. I’ve been able to use this video when mentoring young people caught making mistakes in their schools that can lead to life-altering perceptions of who they are and their opportunities for success in and outside their classrooms.
As I said in my original blog post, the actions of my assailants saddened and inspired me. I am thankful for the experience.
Something has to change.