It seems like the vitriol is just beginning for the jury foreman. As I said earlier in comments, all of those who loved him during trial have not remained steadfast. That is the thing about these public trials. The public goes batshit crazy when they don’t like the outcome. Hopefully, this will not rise to the level of the Casey Anthony trial where angry mobs literally drive people out of their towns and out of their jobs. This all seems so insane to me. There are thousands of trials going on every day in every state in this country. As soon as one comes on TV, we become like spectators at the Hunger Games. It’s a social phenomenon I find deeply disturbing.
So here is a teaser and a link to a blog by the son of the foreman. If we got to choose fathers and grandfathers I think we would probably prefer them to be loving and kind-hearted and full of wisdom and mercy. The kind of man who could sentence a young murderer to the highest charge, ensure she would be removed from society, but show mercy on her. The kind of man who would opt not to give the cruelest punishment to someone just because he could. I think those would be qualities I would select in a father or a grandfather. Someone who believes in rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and leaving vengeance for a higher authority.
The Executioner With The Public Face
My dad was the jury foreman in the Jodi Arias murder trial.
I am betting that a good portion of you don’t know or care but there is sure a sizable piece of America and beyond that knows now who my dad is—which is to say they know his name and they know he had a chance to help execute a criminal. And they know that on his watch, that criminal was not sentenced to die.
That’s where it ends, of course. The knowledge of my dad. That’s all that all but a statistically negligible percentage of the universe knows about my dad. They don’t know that my dad loved his kids or loved baseball or loves cars or loves golf or loves his grandkids or any of a million things. They don’t know that above all his weaknesses, my dad is an honorable man.
And that’s okay. No one needs to know my dad. I think before this all happened, my dad would have liked to be famous. I’m not speaking for him but I’m pretty sure that’s not the case anymore.
Today I read hate mail my dad had gotten. Some person had sent him a threatening message complete with his email address, full name, and phone number (which at the very least means that this guy should retake Hate Mail 101). I also read some comments on an article online about my dad. Surreal. They say my dad was fooled by the defendant, that he was taken with her, that he hated the prosecutor. But what was most interesting to me is how many people say my dad is a media whore.
Let me explain to you how the media works. I am a media whore. I want nothing more than an open mic, a bully pulpit, a captive audience. But no one cares what I have to say, and therefore the media doesn’t care.
But the world (maybe even you, if you are honest) wants to hear about Jodi Arias. Everything, every lurid detail about her. So when my dad showed up at his own home after the mistrial was declared, the major media were there waiting for him. They spent the night in his home. He chose to speak, but if you all didn’t care, no one would have even had a clue who my dad is. It’s poor form to consume media and at the same time complain about its availability.
One last thing, and then I’ll be done, because thinking about how my dad is suffering makes my heart hurt. A jury gets impaneled once or twice in a generation to oversee a trial like this… [For the rest of the story… Click here]
Many thanks to TT reader, Ashley, for the link.