On Friday, a mistrial was declared. After days and days of intense debate surrounding a manslaughter charge, we had to hang our heads low and report that we could not come to a unanimous agreement. For those five days, I tried to help the two stubborn jurors see the recklessness of the defendant's acts that led to a young man's death. I felt compelled to fight for justice when I saw how those 2 jurors refused to engage in discussion and consider the evidence seriously as human beings. My heart aches for the victim and his family. I feel so raw and hollow inside these past two days. I never expected this kind of grief to hit me with such power. Many of us cried in the open courtroom. I find it hard to even talk about the whole process right now. I guess all those hours of passionate appeals to those stubborn jurors have taken a toll on me. I'm having trouble trying to purge all those feelings and arguments out of my head. I worry that justice will not happen in this case when another trial begins in the fall. Second to my father's illness and death, this has been a spiritually, physically and emotionally exhausting experience. I'm glad that I fought with all of my being to voice what I believed was right. I'm frustrated because those 2 men closed their minds even after many of us presented arguments based on the facts, the law, and the call of humanity to value all life. I don't even know if my words are sufficient here.
I'm trying to get into my normal routine again. I need to turn my mind away from these past 4 weeks for awhile. I have to revisit what all this meant in my life at another time. I pray for justice. I pray for the victim's family. I pray for me.
My kids couldn't understand why I cried when I came home on Friday evening. I couldn't even verbalize anything to them.
I will be visiting you all later on today. You bring the sunshine that I need.