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A journalist's view from the jury box

NEW YORK (Court TV) -- When I first received the questionnaire in the mail for jury duty a few months ago, I thought my job as photo editor at Courttv.com would get me out of serving and hoped my name wouldn't come up again for a while. Don't get me wrong. I have always felt that our jury system is the best in the world, but I was happy to let others serve in my stead.

Because of my career in photojournalism, I thought I knew a lot about criminal trials and how juries went about sorting evidence and testimony before deciding whether someone was guilty as charged. Boy was I wrong. The view from the jury box is much different.

On the day I was called I took the subway from my apartment in Manhattan to the criminal courthouse downtown. I joined a line of scores of other people clutching the same white juror slip and passing through the metal detectors into the Manhattan Supreme Court building. We waited in a large room, filling out forms and reading the rules and just waiting.

After eliminating felons and other people unable to serve from the pool of 500 prospective jurors, I was the second person whose name was called. Then once our group got before the parties in our case, I was the third prospective juror called in front of lawyers. After questioning by a Manhattan prosecutor and defense lawyer about my background and feelings on the criminal justice system, I was the first of 15 jurors to be seated.

Wow. Not only did I find myself on a jury, but, as the first selected, I was automatically named foreperson. "My" jury was a diverse group, including a corporate lawyer, public relations associate, a computer consultant, a network TV broadcast anchor, an airline sales associate, a senior editor for a publishing company, a real estate broker and a doctor.

When the trial finally started, it looked to me like it would be a cut and dried case. The defendant was accused of selling large amounts of PCP, or angel dust, to an undercover police officer less than 1,000 feet from two public schools in East Harlem. When he was arrested, he had some of the money from the police buy in his back pocket.

Testimony started on a Tuesday, and went on for three days. The defense attorney's only argument was that it was a case of mistaken identity and that his 28-year-old client was at the wrong place at the wrong time. The undercover cop certainly made the most of his role.

A tall, burly man with long thick dreadlocks, the cop dressed like a drug dealer and walked with a limp. He said that the defendant had a white towel hanging out of his back pocket. They must have talked about the towel 1,000 times. Well, not literally, but it was a key part of the case. That, and a diamond stud earring and a 3-inch scar on the defendant's face, that somehow did not make it into any of the police reports.

The prosecution's case seemed to be bolstered by the fact that despite the fact that police monitoring the drug sale lost sight of the seller for about 30 seconds when he was arrested, the serial numbers on $50 of the bills found in his pocket matched the numbers on the bills the police had used to buy the drugs. I listened and I wondered.

Even if the defense claim that the cops grabbed the wrong guy in the confusion was true, how could they explain away his possession of the police money?

After three days, we were finally ready to deliberate. Court officers escorted us to the jury room. The room had a large conference table, 12 chairs, a water cooler, two bathrooms, and no windows. They took our cell phones, pagers and any other means of connecting us with the outside world. (We were not sequestered, however, which means I got to go home to my life each night.)

When I first walked into the jury room there was no doubt in my mind that he was guilty. Our job, however, was to make sure that the prosecution proved his guilt to all 12 of us beyond a reasonable doubt.

To get the ball rolling, I asked everyone to write their vote on a piece of paper.

We each went around and explained the reasons for our answers. This started a great discussion, which led to making lists of all the things we agreed on and disagreed on, and whether or not the few witnesses were credible. This made it a lot easier to see where we were and where we needed to go.

We discussed what would we have to prove to change each other's minds either way to get a unanimous vote. The discussions were extremely energetic and everyone participated. We decided that our unanimous verdict would hinge on one factor: whether people thought the first undercover police officer, the one who actually bought the drugs, was credible.

So we decided that we needed to hear his testimony again, and that of a second officer assigned to watch the drug buy. Prosecutors called him the "ghost." After hearing the testimony again, and talking more about it, we came to the realization that there was no way that some jurors would change their vote. We were split, with the majority in favor of not guilty, but some jurors felt very strongly about their position.

I have often wondered how jurors can vote to acquit someone of a crime even if they believe that they are guilty. But during the deliberations process I realized how much sense that decision makes sometimes.

I actually changed my vote to not guilty when I realized that I had real questions about the undercover cop's testimony. I believe that if the police officers were not so sloppy in their reports we would have reached a unanimous vote of guilty.

At the end of our second day of deliberations we sent a note to the judge letting her know where we stood -- eight not guiltys and four guiltys -- and that the votes had not changed in a few hours. We felt that even if we still deliberated, we would still never reach a unanimous decision. The judge agreed and ended the case.

A mistrial. After all that. It was kind of like watching the major league all-star game end in a tie because they ran out of pitchers. It's a shame.

But even though it was a mistrial, the system worked in this case as it does in thousands in courtrooms across the country every day. The people got their day in court and the defendant confronted his accusers.

Most importantly, the system permitted a jury of a citizen's peers -- not some government bureaucrat, secret police squad or dictator -- to weigh the evidence. I could have easily blown off jury duty, as so many people do. I'm glad I didn't.