Juror #10 (Postscript)
Remember this story? Juror #10?
And now the rest of the story.
April 26 – We, the jury, find Hector, the defendant, guilty on counts. Sentencing is scheduled for July 22.
June 29 – Susan, an investigator from the Contra County Public Defender’s office, calls while I’m on a business trip to Chicago. She asks if I, as foreman, would answer some questions related to jury deliberations. Figuring Hector’s conviction was signed and sealed, I go ahead and give Susan the lowdown, including how unhappy I was that the jury was compelled to consider sentencing enhancements. “We had a single metric of one trial, while the judge has a metric of dozens of trials. A judge should decide sentencing enhancements, not a jury.” After a 45-minute download, I ask Susan what she plans to do with the information. “Not to worry, Mr. Geiger,” she said, “It’s for our files. Enjoy the rest of your day.” She seems nice. I hang up, figuring I’ve helped advance the cause of justice.
July 22 – Hector’s sentencing date. No matter. I’ve checked-out of this awful mess.
August 1 – It’s a lazy Friday afternoon. It’s been a long week, and I’m counting the minutes until wine o’clock. Then, suddenly, a quiet ping announces the arrival of an email. It looks official. Very official.
It’s a subpoena. From the Contra Costa County Public Defender’s Office. WTF!!!
I am required to appear in Department 22 of the Contra Costa County Superior Court on August 15. To say I am bit angry and a tad upset is an understatement. I call Susan to vent. A LOT! And then I vent some more. She hears me out, most likely with the phone held away from her ear. Susan arranges for a conference call next week with the attorney for the defense. “Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Geiger” she demurs. Eeesh.
August 6 – Hector’s attorney reads a statement she plans to submit to the court detailing my conversation with Susan. She then asks if it’s accurate, and if so, would I prefer to sign off on it instead of trudging all the way to Martinez to testify in open court. An uncomfortable pause ensues. I deliberately ask, “Do I need to hire an attorney?” She says no, but I’m not so sure she means it. Another long pause. “Screw it,” I announce with the intensity of high and tight fastball,”I stand by everything I said. And no, I won’t sign your damn statement. I’ll see you in court.” I may have used more colorful language, but this is a family blog.
August 15 – I am NOT happy to be here. I’ve already sat thru nine days of trial, looked at the evidence, listened to the witnesses, served as jury foreman, and helped deliver a verdict. I’ve done my civic duty, dammit.
The courtroom is packed, filled with anxious family members from both the defendant and the victim. (The victim–now 12 years old– is Hector’s niece). Four burly cops, arms crossed with guns and bad attitudes, stand along the walls to keep a family feud from breaking out. What in the name of Clarence Darrow am I doing here?
I’m sworn in to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Hector’s sentencing has been moved from June 22 to today. However, first things first. What’s happening now is a hearing to determine if Hector should get a new trial based on jury misconduct. And no, I’m not kidding.
I testify for 15 minutes. Hector’s attorney leans in, questioning my deliberation process. The district attorney objects to three-quarters of her questions, and the judge sustains nearly all of them. When I do answer, I mutter a simple “yes” or “no.” No sense diving into details unless I’m asked to. Frustrated by the defense’s nitpicky line of questioning, and my obvious disdain for having to sit in the witness chair after having already served in the jury pool, the judge looks over at me and asks, “Mr. Geiger, did the jury follow my instructions?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Did the jury base its verdict on the evidence and the law.”
“Yes, your honor.”
Game. Set. Match. The judge lets me go, but not before apologizing for having me return to court. He wishes me well and says I can be a juror in his courtroom any time. So, I’ve got that going for me.
The motion for a new trial is denied. Hector is sentenced to 13 years in state prison. This is in addition to a six-year federal sentence he received in 2020 for distributing child pornography. Hector will now be extradited to Florida to face state charges of molesting a three-year old toddler and filming it. If convicted, he could be sentenced to life in prison.
Justice is served.