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Commentary
Albury: Don’t judge me
Lately, as a way to pass time on longer car trips, I have been listening to true-crime podcasts.
Yesterday, I tuned in to an episode about jury misconduct. One famous incident discussed on the program occurred in Essex, England, in 1995. A man named Stephen Young was accused of murdering a young couple during a botched robbery. While the jury was sequestered during the trial, four jurors were getting impatient with the time and inconvenience of a court case, so they decided to cut to the chase. Instead of relying on pesky courtroom details like witness testimonials, DNA evidence and statements from the victims’ next of kin to help make a decision, these jurors met in the hotel’s restaurant, broke out an Ouija board one man had smuggled into his room, and summoned up the murdered victims to ask them who committed the dirty deed.
The dearly departed, who apparently had plenty of time on their hands, were more than happy to spill the beans. The couple named Young as the culprit, and he was sentenced to life in prison. When word got out that the jurors used otherworldly means to decide Young’s fate, the accused was granted a new trial. A short time later, the defendant was again found guilty by a jury which used more conventional methods to render a decision.
My own experience with this legal process was much less dramatic. Ten years ago, I received an invitation in the mail to join 11 of my peers to sit on a jury. I was in equal parts surprised to learn people actually got called to perform this task and also that I had 11 peers in Washington County.
I decided to go to the courthouse on the assigned date because I was curious about the process and, more importantly, the letter said I would be subject to a $500 fine if I didn’t show up.
When I arrived, I joined 50 other citizens in a big room. We were called one at a time for the “voir dire” process, where the attorneys asked questions to ensure we would be impartial jurors. “Did you cheat when playing board games as a child?” “Have you ever driven a getaway car in the commission of a robbery?” “Do you believe crime pays?”
Once chosen for the jury, we went to the courtroom and met the judge. The gentleman whose case we were going to try had been accused of violating a pre-established court order and impeding the work of a law enforcement officer. This individual had decided to represent himself in the proceedings, which the judge explained was the man’s right as a citizen. The judge said the defendant was to be presumed innocent, and that it was the state’s responsibility to prove his guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.
The judge was really big on this presumed innocent thing. In fact, for the next eight hours, everything was “alleged” this and “allegedly” that. “The alleged assailant performed an alleged crime on the alleged victim at allegedly 5:50 p.m. on Alleged Street in the town of Allegedly, Vermont.” I was starting to understand the concept of innocent until proven guilty … allegedly.
We listened to the facts as presented by the prosecutor, the defendant and witnesses for each side. Finally, the judge said it was time to retire to the jury room to decide the case. But first, he was going to appoint a jury “foreman.”
One thing I was sure of beyond a reasonable doubt: I wanted to be jury foreman. Unfortunately, before I could stick my hand in the air and scream “pick me!” the judge gave the designation to juror number 7.
In the jury room, the foreman asked the bailiff if we could have some coffee delivered. I suggested he ask for sandwiches and beer, but the foreman ignored me. Clearly, his newfound power had gone to his head.
Next, we the jury debated. We reread the judge’s instructions and debated some more. I didn’t see any Ouija boards; however, during one break in the action, I noticed two jurors playing hangman to kill time.
Eventually, we arrived at a verdict and were escorted back into the courtroom, where Mr. Bigshot Foreman did all of the talking.
“How does the jury find the defendant on the first count?” asked the judge.
“Guilty, your honor.”
“And how does the jury find the defendant on the second count?”
“Not guilty, your honor.”
And then we were done; our civic duty complete.
All in all, I found serving on the jury to be an interesting experience, and I will certainly do it again if I ever have the opportunity. Assuming, of course, I don’t have an alleged conflict. And they let me bring my Magic 8 Ball.
Mark S. Albury lives in Northfield Falls.
Over the last 14 years that I have been editor of The Times Argus, Claire Duke has been a regular visitor to my office and inbox.
I was so saddened to learn of her passing. Claire was well known and beloved by many, myself included. She was engaged in local issues, and often had the ear of some of the people of influence who could move the needle in one direction or another. Claire did not sugarcoat any truth, and she did not pull punches. She was strong-willed.
For all of her sway, Claire was delightful. Of course, people with opinions will rub others the wrong way, but at the end of every congenial conversation you had with Claire, you knew you had mutual respect.
I can’t say that about too many individuals I interact with in this chair. Most of them — usually know-it-all older men with chips on their shoulders — are mean-spirited. They start every conversation with how their opinion is going to save this cause or the other and, ultimately, the newspaper if we kowtow to their method. All they are really doing is making a ruckus to make themselves feel superior — done at the expense of ink and readers’ valuable time.
Claire, on the other hand, respected the local newspaper. She loved it as a resource. Whenever she showed up in the newsroom, or called or emailed me, I knew a well-thought-out point was going to be made that was either going to improve our coverage, or provide some context to the coverage in play. She loved Barre. She spent much of her time engaging in conversations toward progress, problem-solving and thinking outside the box. She desperately wanted Barre to succeed.
Claire was a force to be reckoned with. I had to face those reckonings a few times when she felt the paper had done harm or had gone too far. Other times, she even reached out wanting to know why we were not covering some issue that she saw as critical — not just for this moment, but several plays down the road.
She also wrote letters to the editor (sometimes critical of our coverage but always on point). She was prolific. Hers was a welcome voice on this editorial page.
While Claire and I discussed and debated coverage on a semiregular basis (sometimes on the sidewalk or in the produce section of the grocery store), we always left one another with a smile.
The kind of civility and support Claire brought is what we all need, not just as a community but as a society. We need people to be reasoned and thoughtful, but opinionated and respectful. Bullying and condescension won’t get you access. Lying and being manipulative will get you nowhere. Claire was about honest appraisals and real conversations.
I considered Claire a friend, not because we agreed (or disagreed) but, rather, because she treated every person as an individual. She listened, and — by all of my interactions (a few of which were hard or awkward) — she was fair. There was a richness of character that made me want to do better, too.
Our community is better today for Claire Duke. She epitomized local pride. She sought out civic engagement, but knew when to step aside and let others lead and learn. I found her to be wise that way.
Every election, we put a notice on the front page reminding folks to get out to the polls. That was Claire. She suggested that we regularly publish contact information for the local congressional and legislative delegations. Every Tuesday, like clockwork, we publish a directory of public service providers in our area. (I had done it once, and she immediately called me, thanked me, and then suggested we publish it weekly as a public service. We do.)
You didn’t have to agree with Claire. But I know that we all should carry ourselves, and dispense our opinions with the same reasonable care and kindness that Claire did.
The last time I saw her was on North Main Street in October. She had been laid up for a while, and was grateful to be out and about on a sunny Monday. She was looking for a good slice of pizza and wanted to support one of the local eateries. We made some small talk, and then Citizen Claire was off. There was nothing unusual — or even that memorable — about our interaction, and yet I recall it vividly and with great fondness. I will miss her.
Steven Pappas is the editor of The Times Argus.
Editorials
Editorial: Red and yellow flag laws
This is what the Bangor Daily News in Maine had to say about a bill to require the military to use state red and yellow flag laws:
It can’t be said enough: The horrific mass shooting in Lewiston on Oct. 25 requires answers and action. Even as multiple investigations into the facts involved get underway, it is already quite clear that various missed warnings, system failures and statutory shortcomings were involved. This points to the need for a multifaceted response at various levels of government.
As just one example, there needs to be more clarity and stronger requirements about how the U.S. military interacts with state laws designed to temporarily limit firearm access for people demonstrated to be a risk to themselves or others — like Maine’s yellow flag law and New York’s red flag law. Both seemingly could and should have been engaged in the case of Lewiston shooter Robert Card.
U.S. Sen. Susan Collins is currently working on a bill that would appear to provide the needed clarity and requirements. Without legislative text yet, it is hard to fully evaluate the forthcoming proposal. But reporting on the bill and remarks from Collins’ office are encouraging.
“Based on press reports, it appears that the military units with which Robert Card was associated had not acted to invoke either New York’s red flag law or Maine’s yellow flag law, despite numerous warning signs that lead to Mr. Card’s hospitalization in a psychiatric hospital in New York, and the Army’s decision to prevent him from having access to weapons, ammunition, and participation in live fire exercises,” Collins spokesperson Annie Clark said in a statement to the Bangor Daily News editorial board last week. “This led Senator Collins to initiate the request for an (Army inspector general) investigation. In the meantime, she is working on legislation that would require each branch of the military services to fully utilize states’ red and yellow flag laws when appropriate to protect an individual from harming him or herself or others.”
This is a needed push, as part of a larger conversation about improving systems and laws to prevent other shootings like this. Card’s concerning behavior led him to spend about two weeks in a New York psychiatric facility while in that state for U.S. Army Reserve training. The military had barred him from handling weapons and live ammunition two months before the shooting. Members of Maine law enforcement were also warned about his behavior and the concerns of fellow soldiers. And yet it seems that neither Army nor law enforcement officials fully engaged with the red flag law in New York or yellow flag law in Maine to limit his access to firearms amid the alarming behavior.
It should go without saying that this failure of systems, and failure to fully engage with existing public safety tools, must not be repeated. As we said in early November, “If the U.S. military has determined that someone shouldn’t have access to firearms within the service, that person should also then lose access to firearms in civilian life (at least for a period of time, and with proper balance of Second Amendment rights).” It is too soon to know if or how Collins’ bill would match with this goal specifically, but there is good reason to expect that requiring the military to fully pursue the process for state red and yellow flag laws would apply the same general principle.
The anticipated legislation is one specific piece in a larger conversation, but it is an important piece.
As Collins continues to work on this needed and appreciated proposal at the federal level, state lawmakers in Maine and elsewhere also need to be moving toward stronger red flag laws.
The military element was not the only apparent shortcoming in Card’s case, and we remain convinced that Maine’s yellow flag law should be updated and strengthened to an actual red flag law to better address barriers for families and law enforcement trying to use it. The tragedy in Lewiston was also a failure of systems and statute, and requires this kind of reassessment at all levels of government.
Share your thoughts on this issue and others by writing a letter to the editor or commentary. Go to our website and click on the Opinion tab to make a submission for consideration.
