(e:Ajay) has issues with some of my statements [inlink]ajay,127[/inlink]. I have issues with the fact that a jury has no authority to change a sentence. We couldn't have reduced the crime to say 2nd or 3rd Degree Robbery (with a lesser sentence). What if I thought the man did it, but I don't think stealing $30 of food should put a man in jail for multiple years (especially at the cost to the rest of us law-abiding taxpayers). As to having "no doubts about his guilt" well that's not what we we there to prove. We were deciding if he was guilty beyond "a reasonable doubt" which sounds semantic, but in actual practice means you have to be able to explain these reasonable doubts, if such there be, to the rest of the 11 jurors. As to "save him" I was referring to not letting a bunch of quasi-racists (meaning those who would never admit it but secretly know that every black man in prison deserves his place there) convict a man without even considering the circumstances. Like I said in my journal, out of 12 jurors there were 8 who would have talked for 5 minutes and convicted the guy. I wasn't trying to save him from himself, but from a rampantly racist criminal justice system. I wish the system was bent on re-educating instead of punishment. But it ain't. And I knew it before the trial and I know it now. Therefore, the guilt.

As for bikes, I'm gonna ride however I feel safest, and if that happens to be in disregard for the law than so be it.

So I posted about how I was to be an alterante juror. Things changed. When I got there for the first day of jury one of the jurors had abdicated their responsibility (which is laughably easy to do-just say "I don't feel comfortable judging" or "I hate the po-po) and I found myself labelled juror number 8. My hopes of avoiding actual responsibility while still receiveing my full government salary were dashed. The trial began.

The accused was Mr. McCalley, a black male (as one testifying po-po repeatedly named him) who went into a Super-Saver store on Broadway near Bailey, walked up to the meat counter and ordered some steaks. The meat manager, a Russian immigrant name Visaly something-or-other, took the order and handed the package containg two steaks to the accused (approx. value: $36). McCalley then walks to the front of the store, looks to make sure he is unobserved, and takes off without paying. Unbeknownst to him, meat manager Visaly was indeed watching, and after hollering to the store owner, Mr. Wagner, follows him out.

McCalley had at this point jumped in his friend's car (who apparently was not involved in the crime but was just giving a ride to a friend). The car was just pulling out of the parking lot when Visaly spotted it. He makes a running leap onto the hood of the car as it enters Broadway. The car stops. At this point Mr. Wagner, the owner, is outside the building and observes Visaly atop the car. He runs over to the drivers side while Visaly clambers over to the passenger side. Up to this point there is no argument. Mr. McCalley gives congruent testimony.

According to Visaly and Mr. Wagner (the first two witnesses in that order) McCalley's next move is to jump out of the car, take out a knife, and start swinging it in a threatening manner towards them. He then takes off down a side street. Visaly (idealistic immigrant that he is) pursues. The chase winds through several side streets, house yards, and over a fence or two. Eventually Visaly catches up and there is a small confrontation in which his hand is slightly sliced by McCalley. The po-po who were called immediately after the theft have by this time responded, apprehend McCalley and find the weapon on his person.

The two cops testified. The one says he saw the suspect and brought him down. The other says he assissted and found the knife on McCalley.

The last one to testify is called by the defense, and is none other than McCalley himself. He gives the same story up to the point outside the store when he jumps out of the car. According to him there was no knife. He jumped out of the car and immediately ran, only to be pursued by a maniacal Visaly who went so far as to pick up a stick and beat him down from a wall he was attempting to scale. He was very volatile on the stand. He wouldn't answer questions directly and was constantly questioning and accusing the DA. He ignored repeated attempts by the judge to restore order.

He was the last of the five witnesses represented (4 for the prosecutor, only McCalley for the defense). The judge briefed us on what the counts were and the applicable law:

1) 1st Degree Robbery: Larceny (ie: theft) with the use or threatened use of a dangerous instrument (in our case a kinfe) to steal the item, to resist the stealing of the item, or to prevent the owners from reclaiming the item in the period immediately following the theft.

2) 3rd Degree Possession of a Weapon: Possession of a dangerous weapon (again, the knife) with intent to use, or threatened use of said weapon.

We were to deliberate on the first charge and if guilty stop deliberating and report our verdict. Only if the first charge was not-guilty should we deliberate upon the second.

First, we gave ourselves the task of determining if he had the knife. There were 4 witnesses who said he did and only he disputed the claim. To say he didn't have the knife (which was offered into evi
de
nce) would have entailed a conspiracy involving two Buffalo police officers (possibly three, including the officer who claimed the evidence at the scene) plus Visaly and Wagner. Even though I can't say that the thought was totally unreasonable in general (I have no love for the po-po), there was no evidence in our case that could lead to this conclusion. We all agreed that he had the knife on him. The question became whether or not it was used.

Here it became trickier. We narrowed our objective down to the point where the testimonies diverged: outside the store as McCalley jumped out of the car. Did he jump out and swing a knife, or did he jump out and run away?

A little more of what we were allowed to consider... We were expressly told not to consider possible punishment, our job was not to exact punishment, but to determine the facts. We were not to be compassionate. We were not to feel sympathy. We were to consider only the evidence given (both testimony and physical). We were to judge the credibility of each witness, using not only their words, but also their demeanor, gestures, and general mood. We were to use our life experiences to help us determine their credibility. We were not to engage in speculation. The judge explained that this would only lead to conversations and opinions that would have no bearing to the actual facts presented. We were not to interpret the law. We were given the definitions we were to use. It wasn't up to us to decide what constituted robbery and what didn't (in other words, stealing is stealing, some steaks or a car, for shits/giggles or for livelihood). Lots of rules.

The composition of the jury. Two black men. Three white women. One possible Native American man. Six (or seven) white men.

Right off the bat about half the jury was ready, with very little discussion, to convict. The two black guys, one of the women, and myself held out. We were the ones that led the discussion to the conclusion that he had the knife. We were the ones that continued to argue about the confrontation in front of the store.

It came down to the credibility of three men, Visaly, Wagner, and McCalley. Wagner had not impressed me. He was this chubby white guy doing business in a mostly balck neighborhood. The defense lawyer had made clear through his questioning that he resented the many thefts/robberies that had occured at his store. He even made him admit that he was "frustrated" at the failure of the system to get these guys (he even showed a Buff News article in which Mr. Wagner goes off on police and the courts in general). In short, he wasn't very credible. Next was McCalley himself. Let's face it, he's on trial, he's gonna say whatever the fuck he thinks is gonna get him the least amount of time, credibility near zero.

To me, it came down to this Russian dude. He had enough morals on him to chase a suspect for three blocks (especially if he had a knife). Why would he lie? Was it "reasonable" to think that he would? Then there was McCalley himself, who couldn't hold his temper for what might have been the most critical point of his life so far. If he couldn't control himself in a suit and tie in front of the 12 people about to judge him, why would he have had the control to not use the knife in his pocket to scare off pursuit?

There weren't enough unbiased witnesses. I didn't like deciding with only the facts we had. The stupid defense attorney should never have let his client up on that stand. It was his testimony which cinched it for those of us who doubted. I can honestly say, that if he had not damned himself he would probably have gotten off with Possession of a Weapon instead of 1st Degree Robbery.

So there it is. My confession of sorts. I'm apparently not the radical anarchist I like to think I am. I put another black man in prison. Fulfilling my supplication to the system. I didn't want to do it. Honestly. I thought I was gonna be the one to save him. I answered all the questions they asked me kinda wrong
, I di
dn't tell them I hate the police and the judicial system. Yet the guy is going to prison. All I can say is we have a really tight little system. The whole jury thing selects against the radicals. It doesn't give you the option to just say "no." I had to come up with reasons other than "I don't want the dude to go to jail for stealing some steaks." And there just weren't any. It's so wrong. I feel kinda violated. Like most everything else the experience has left a bitter taste in my mouth about our vaunted ideals, of liberty and justice for all. It was justice, but it wasn't my justice. If I believed in God I would ask for forgiveness, as it is I think it's just another reason to move.

Re: [inlink]ajay,126[/inlink] , [inlink]maidencateyes,148[/inlink] & [inlink]sqb,134[/inlink]

I love to ride my bike. I hate to ride on Buffalo streets. They are too small, too crowded, and no one (bikers or drivers) knows what they're supposed to do in regards to each other. In principle I agree everyone should follow the law, but get tired of following laws when the majority of the people on the roads seem hellbent on killing me. I try to ride on the street most of the time, as I am supposed to by the law, but I agree with (e:maidencateyes) that especially on Elmwood it is nearly impossible without severe risk to life and limb. Let's face it, the only reason anyone follows the traffic laws is fear of the po-po. The po-po don't give a damn about the bikers (unless they mass up). If cars could get away with it they would. And I feel it my right as a non-gas-guzzling vehicle to enjoy perks, like darting out before the light is green and not stopping at a sign if no one is there. I would feel different if there was mutual repect, if I wasn't constantly honked at, yelled and cursed at, told to get my ass on the sidewalk, if I didn't have to watch every occupied car (both on the move and at rest, watch those casually flung-open doors). I understand that it's hard to develop respect for an activity that is only possible half of the year, for most of the year bicyclists just don't exist. And our city was built before gigantic cars took up 6 feet of space each. So, at my own risk, I will continue following whatever rules I want. Sorry if I give the rest of you law-abiding cyclists a bad name.

was about a little while ago, but I just received some pics that I would like to share with you kind folks!


The bride-to-be was surprised and taken hostage. Blinfolded, she was led to her outfit.


A major part of the outfit was the condom-veil. So popular with Sparrow (the adorable puddy-tat) that a new one had to be made to lay atop the streaming remnants of the old.


Our one and only, (e:springfaerie) in the hizouse! Lookin' mighty fine too, shit!!


This is the life of the party. Notice their utter suaveness, what gems! The outfits did become somewhat rearranged as the evening wore on... We are of course, myself, (e:lilho), (e:southernyankee), (e:tina), and (e:flacidness).


Two who aren't on the site but should be flank (e:trisha), the lady of honor, let's here it for Rachel and Summer! Summer made me wonder if she had some hitmen following her around and Rachel had a garter full of semi-licit substances. Yikes!

Everybody needs an Italian grandma! Even if you have to live with a smelly Italian to get one. :)

Today was canning tomato day. Last year was my first experience and I went today to repeat the lovely experience. Nonna is just great. Just the right kind of old-world charm, grandmotherliness, and just plain sparkling joy that everyone needs in their lives. She really makes me happy. She's 86 and only moved to America in her 40's. Her primary language is still Italian but she gets around in English as well (though it helps if you have a smattering of a romance language to get the full effect, she has these great idiosycratic words that slip in, ie: always suppone instead of suppose...). And the stories... She remembers living in Italy during WWII! Her brother actually had a bomb dropped on him and had to be dug out of a crater. She blends this perfect kind of innocence with a great pragmatic common sense. Anyways here are some pics from the tomatostravaganza:


First you must prepare the bottles, some fresh basilica and a pinch of sale


Next peel the skin from those guys, make 'em shine


They're ready to be popped in the pot for a 20 minute boil. You can already smell how wonderful they'll taste!