Chapter 13 – Jury Chaos

“Are we allowed to bring in handwritten notes? When you started reading your letter yesterday, I was concerned that you were bringing in information that was not fact based and was your opinion.”

Juror #5

 

When we settled into the deliberation room on Wednesday, June 26, 2024, Juror #5 was clearly agitated. Once we were all seated, she immediately took the floor to raise concerns about me and how our deliberations had been going so far. She argued that since there were strict rules about not being able to bring our notes out of the courtroom during the trial, and not taking anything out of the deliberation room, we also shouldn’t be allowed to bring in notes we had made at home. My stomach sank—had I done something wrong?

Other jurors quickly came to my defense, pointing out that we were allowed to form and express our own opinions. Juror #5 acknowledged that but questioned how we could be sure my notes weren’t influenced by outside information. The foreperson stepped in and said firmly, “I trust Dan, as I trust the rest of the people in this room.” He explained that none of us could go home and just turn off our brains. The fact that I had written out my thoughts didn’t mean I was doing anything improper.

I immediately apologized, insisting that I hadn’t meant to break any rules. I explained that writing helps me process my thoughts—it’s how I work through ideas and communicate them clearly. Unlike some who can speak eloquently off the cuff, I tend to garble my thoughts unless I’ve written them down first. I added that, in hindsight, perhaps I should have written my note in the deliberation room, but I didn’t think it was fair to make everyone sit quietly for an hour while I wrote.

The other jurors continued to defend me, agreeing there was no difference between someone thinking intensely about the case all weekend and verbally sharing their opinions, and someone writing down their thoughts to share later. Neither action violated the court’s orders to avoid outside influences.

After several minutes of discussion, Juror #5 relented, and we got back to discussing the case. Juror #8 spoke up right away, saying she had thought more about everything and was now firmly back on the guilty side for both counts. That was hard for me to hear—I knew it would now be nearly impossible to convince nine others to switch to not guilty.

The discussion then focused primarily on the doubts I had. While Jurors #2 and #8 remained firm in their belief that Nelson was not guilty on Count 1, I became the lead voice for that opinion. The other jurors were exceedingly patient with us; no one got angry or belligerent despite our differing views. Instead, the group of nine worked to understand our positions and tried to persuade us with thoughtful, Socratic reasoning. Although I could sense that a few, like Juror #5, were frustrated, the room never turned tense.

The discussion went on for about 30 minutes when suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was the bailiff, instructing us that we were needed in the courtroom. We lined up as we had done so many times before. In that moment, I remember looking around at everyone with total bewilderment. I think all of us were wondering what in the world could be going on. Standing in the hallway, I felt chills—this was so unusual.

We entered the courtroom and took our usual seats. Everyone was there: the prosecution, the defense, and a packed gallery. Judge Phelps addressed us directly, saying some new information had come to light that morning, and we needed to return to the deliberation room but temporarily halt our discussions. “Whoa,” I thought. I had never heard of such a thing.

I later learned, after the trial, that as we were arriving at court that morning, a prosecuting attorney not involved in the Nelson case overheard Juror #5 and Anthony (#6) talking about the case. According to reports, Juror #5 was emphatically telling Anthony, “We’re not here to be best friends. The 12 of us are here because one person was killed and another is on trial.” She also mentioned a photo we had looked at in the deliberation room, referring to someone as an “attractive, clean-cut man.” To this day, I have no idea what photo she was talking about—we had never spent time focusing on any photo of Jesse, Nelson, or anyone else.

When I read later that Juror #5 had railed against us “not being best friends,” I knew that was aimed at me. It also explained why she called me out about reading my note the moment we sat down that morning.

When I read about all of that after the trial, I wasn’t surprised that Juror #5 had been speaking that way, but I was a bit taken aback that Anthony was part of the kerfuffle. Listening to the recordings from the courtroom that day, I was relieved to learn that my friend Anthony didn’t seem to be actively participating or agreeing with #5—he was mostly just listening and occasionally nodding. I’ve never spoken with Anthony about those events, but in hindsight, I think he must have realized someone had overheard #5. When we returned to the deliberation room after being told to stop, he reminded all of us that we needed to make sure we only talked about the case when every juror was present. At the time, I didn’t know why he made that point, but now it makes sense.

As a result of all those goings-on, Judge Phelps was forced to reveal what just a day earlier she had hoped would be a non-issue. She had to admit that she would normally release the jurors in question and call in the alternates, but in this case, she couldn’t. She explained that we were in an unprecedented situation because of what our jury had done the day before. By indicating that we had definitively reached a verdict on Count 2, we had placed her in an extremely complicated position. She now had a jury that had reached a verdict on one of the counts, but introducing the two alternates into the mix could create unforeseen issues.

Both the prosecution and defense seemed gobsmacked. They were clearly shocked to be learning, for the first time, that we had already reached a verdict on one of the counts.

As a jury, we had no idea at the time how complicated we had made things. To this day, I feel terrible that I played a part in getting those verdict forms so wrong the day before. However, I’m relieved that Anthony and #5 were ultimately retained—because I have no idea what might have happened otherwise.

Sitting there in the deliberation room, unable to talk about the case and with our notebooks closed, the unspoken speculation about what might be going on was almost palpable.

We sat there for at least two hours, talking about our kids, our jobs, and even the various wildlife that occasionally invaded our yards. Someone shared a disturbingly humorous anecdote about a neighbor who once tried to toss a troublesome cat to an eagle. It was the kind of story that made you laugh, even though you knew it shouldn’t.

We did anything we could to pass the time without discussing what was, by now, completely invading our psyches.

Finally, around noon, our foreperson decided to text the bailiff to ask if we could go to lunch. She quickly texted back, telling us to stand by. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and the bailiff appeared, asking us to line up once again to file into the courtroom. Once more, I felt chills as we entered—everything about this felt so strange and unprecedented.

As we took our seats, I noticed Ms. Eakes staring at us intently. Her gaze was sharp, almost like daggers, and at one point, it seemed as if she was looking directly at me with complete disdain. It was deeply unsettling, but I soon realized she was directing that same scornful visage toward other jurors as well.

After an uncomfortable moment or two, Judge Phelps finally addressed the jury and let us know that there was still work the court had to do. She informed us that they would release us to go to lunch and we should report back at 2pm. All of it made me so nervous. What was going on? Had we done something that had run afoul of Judge Phelps’ instructions? I dreaded the idea that we had put the entire year’s long process at risk.

I spent the 90-minute lunch largely alone, but on the way back I ran into juror #7 who I had little interaction with up to that point. We had a nice chat about what he did for work. He was an IT guy for a company that does property management for short-term rentals. We talked about that business is struggling, and he told me that he was going to be switching companies in a couple of weeks.

Right around 2 p.m., we headed back upstairs and were promptly ushered into the courtroom. As we took our seats, Ms. Eakes had those same daggers in her eyes, staring straight into our souls. Judge Phelps asked our foreperson to stand and informed him that she would read a statement that only he was allowed to answer, and that his response could only be “yes” or “no.” He nodded in agreement, and Judge Phelps proceeded to read the following:

“Mr. Foreperson, do you believe that the jury can reach a verdict in this case on both counts, in a reasonable amount of time?”

After about two seconds of consideration, our foreperson answered, “YES.”

WHAT?!! Wait…did I just hear that correctly? Did he say we could reach a verdict on Count 1 in a reasonable amount of time? As I processed what had just happened, I wondered what planet our foreperson was living on. I was steaming mad that he answered that way. I couldn’t fathom how he thought the three of us who were firmly stuck on not guilty would ever change our minds.

Even Judge Phelps seemed surprised by his answer. She looked stunned and then glanced around the courtroom with a quizzical expression. “Okay… parties, are we agreed to do what we said we would do?” Both the defense and prosecution replied, “Yes, Your Honor.” Judge Phelps then turned to us and instructed the jury that we could resume our deliberations.

We made our way back to the deliberation room, and I might have been petulantly stomping my feet as we walked down the hall. Once we were seated, I turned to Anthony and said, “I can’t believe he answered yes. What does he think is going to change?” Anthony just shrugged his shoulders.

As everyone settled in, our foreperson spoke up. He acknowledged that many of us were likely perplexed by his answer. Several of us affirmed we were, indeed, confused. He explained that while we had been waiting earlier that morning, he happened to look at the original calendar timeline for the trial. He noticed that it stretched potentially into the middle of July. He admitted he would have liked to ask what exactly constituted a “reasonable” amount of time, but since he could only answer “yes” or “no,” and given what the original calendar showed, he felt it was our duty to keep working.

Hearing his explanation took my vexation down several notches. Even so, I thought to myself, “Well, that’s fair, but I’m not moving to guilty on Count 1, so he just signed us up for the long haul.”

We got back to it, and our foreperson made a request: both sides should go to the whiteboard and create a list of the exact reasons we were so firm in our positions. The three of us in the not guilty camp huddled together and began writing out our main arguments. As we worked, there was a lot of discussion among the other nine jurors. Each time we wrote something down, we could hear them talking about it and occasionally making comments directed at us.

At a certain point, Juror #11 politely suggested that the three of us should have our own quiet time to go through the evidence without outside commentary. In that moment, #2 expressed his frustration, saying he had wanted to do that for several days but felt the nine guilty votes had prevented it. The group of nine was extremely apologetic, and everyone agreed to give us the time we needed.

The three of us started by looking at the video of the first shot to Jesse’s abdomen. We watched it over and over, frame by frame. I struggled to determine anything concrete from the footage. I couldn’t tell if Jesse was lunging back at Nelson after being pushed against the freezer. It didn’t really look like it, but it was so hard to say definitively. I noticed it seemed like Jesse’s arms were down at that time, but again, I couldn’t be sure.

As we watched and analyzed the video closely, I came to a very firm determination. Woodard’s testimony, particularly his description of the moments during and immediately after the shooting, had been so important to my initial assessment of Nelson being not guilty. So much of my thinking had hinged on what Woodard said. But as I scrutinized the video, I finally realized that Woodard was a completely unreliable witness. He had told the officers so much that evening and in the days following the shooting that simply wasn’t correct. For instance, Woodard was adamant that Nelson had turned and pointed the firearm at him—but that didn’t happen. There were multiple details he described that were clearly not reality. Taking that into account, I came to the difficult realization that I needed to discount pretty much everything he said.

As the three of us continued combing through the evidence together, Anthony and Juror #7 spoke up at one point to ask me a question, challenging something I had said. Before I could respond, Juror #11 got visibly angry. With a voice full of exasperation, she said, “I asked, please, just let us have time. Please… PLEASE.”

I hadn’t been bothered by Anthony and #7 questioning me, but it was clear she was quite upset about it. I believe she felt she needed the space to deeply reflect on the evidence and whether her long-held beliefs about Nelson’s lack of guilt on Count 1 needed to be reexamined. Anthony and #7 sincerely apologized, and the three of us went back to our analysis.

The three of us worked quietly together for the remaining hours of the day. As we scrutinized the evidence and reread our jury instructions more closely, it became clear that we were all starting to shift slightly toward a vote of guilty on Count 1. I wasn’t there yet, but I could tell that Juror #11 was on the verge of switching to the guilty side.

As the clock approached 5 p.m., our foreperson asked if we should take a vote before leaving for the night. I asked if we could hold off, explaining that I wanted time to think carefully about everything overnight. I reminded everyone that I had been thinking one way for six weeks, and it would take me time to reach a completely different conclusion.

As we began to leave, I reiterated that we couldn’t afford to get this wrong on the guilty side. Juror #8 quickly retorted that we couldn’t get it wrong on the not guilty side either. I asserted that, if we had to err, it would be better to be wrong on the not guilty side. A chorus of jurors vehemently disagreed with me, and I humbly let them know I respected their viewpoint.

As I walked out of the courthouse that evening, I felt unsteady. The day had been filled with stress and relentless scrutiny, and the twists and turns of this case were wearing me down to the point of exhaustion. I desperately wanted it to be over, but there was no way I would give in to the majority unless I felt absolutely certain that Nelson was guilty on Count 1.