It is better and more satisfactory to acquit a thousand guilty persons than to put a single innocent one to death. - Maimonides
The French philosopher René Descartes once set out to prove the existence of God. But in order to do so, to try and logically prove that God was real, he first decided he must completely abandon everything he ever believed. Starting as a tabula rasa - a complete blank slate - he would then only postulate that for which he could show proof. The first proposition he felt confident in adopting was Je pense donc je suis; later translated into Latin, it becamethe famous dictum cogito ergo sum - “I think therefore I am.” From that premise, he carefully went on to the next point, and the next, and so forth, until his dialectic, despite some gorgeous logic along the way, ultimately (in my opinion) fell apart. The key point, though, is that the whole thing began with first clearing his mind of any and all previously held notions, no matter how dear, and then attempting to apply rigorous logic in pursuit of his theory.
In our jury system - which, despite its flaws, is a terrific system and a model to the rest of the world - a defendant starts out with an absolute presumption of innocence. As jurors, we are charged, like Descartes before us, to believe absolutely nothing, to be blank slates, and from that point forward, to only believe that which is proved to us, carefully and methodically, with concrete evidence. In criminal cases, it is the job of the prosecution not just to show us a preponderance of evidence (that’s for civil trials) but to obliterate all reasonable doubt.
I admit that I did not watch the Casey Anthony trial particularly closely and only know what I saw on television and read in a handful of media accounts. But I can say with some certainty that, despite my personal suspicions about Ms. Anthony’s actions - and certainly about her lack of character - I am proud of the jury that acquitted her. If the prosecution did not meet its burden on the most serious charges, which twelve independent jurors quickly and resoundingly decided it did not, then a “not guilty” verdict was the only conclusion the jury could reasonably reach. It has been said countless times, by countless people, that “not guilty” is not the same as “innocent” and it bears repeating here. Ms. Anthony may very well have committed a most heinous crime, but the prosecution clearly could not prove it.
You would be hard pressed to put twelve random people in a room and get them to agree on Mayonnaise vs. Miracle Whip, whether Jar Jar Binks was a crime against movie-goers, or where the President of the United States was born. So when twelve jurors so quickly and resoundingly come to a decisive verdict, it is no small thing. Nobody I know - and I dare say nobody you know - would be eager to absolve a possible baby killer, especially one as distasteful as Ms. Anthony; after hearing all of the testimony and evidence, there must have been reasonable doubt as to the events surrounding Caylee’s death. If there was, then the jury absolutely did their Constitutional duty and ought to be commended. Judging by the reaction to the verdict in the public at large, one would think that the jury would’ve had at least one hold out, some surrogate for the Of Course She Did It Crowd, screaming ”Are you people freaking kidding me?!” and insisting on a conviction. But this was no hung jury. Eight of the jurors didn’t come out after two weeks of contentious deliberations wanting to strangle the other four.
Ten hours. Unanimity. Ask yourself why. It’s not because they all wanted to race home and watch Franklin & Bash.
It’s very easy to say dumb things like “People in Florida are crazy”, “The jury system is broken”, “These jurors don’t care about children”, “If you want to get away with murder, move to Florida”, and other such knee-jerk silliness, but the truth is that these twelve citizens likely overcame some persistent personal suspicions to do as the law says they must. As far as they and the law were concerned, Casey Anthony was 100% innocent, and they could only convict if the evidence showed no reasonable doubt whatsoever about her guilt; the evidence apparently did not. The acquittal, then, was entirely appropriate, actual guilt or innocence aside. This system may sometimes lead to verdicts that seem unfair or outrageous, but I’ll take it every time. The presumption of innocence combined with a prosecutorial burden is one of the precepts of our system of governance of which we ought to be most proud. Despite some pretty notable and notorious aberrations, it will protect far more innocent people than it will benefit those who are guilty. Far from showing that our jury system is broken, outcomes like this highlight its strength and nobility.
It was not long ago in our country’s history that juries did not take their impartiality seriously (and maybe some still don’t.) Courts were corrupted and defendants were often railroaded and convicted on slim-to-no evidence. Many of these convictions were racially motivated and the cases either entirely circumstantial, based on questionable eye-witness testimony, or made up out of whole cloth. Indeed, prior to DNA testing, untold numbers of innocent people were not only convicted, but executed. Biases replaced evidence. ”Of course he did it” replaced evidence. Such convictions are a permanent stain on our nation. So whenever I see a jury taking its role as impartial arbiters of the available facts seriously, especially in the face of juicy circumstantial evidence, crushing media attention and noisy public outcry, I metaphorically stand up and applaud.
As far as the Anthony case is concerned, I suspect there is plenty of blame to go around for its failure: investigators, prosecutors, various Anthonys. The jury, however, should escape public opprobrium; the jury did its 6th Amendment duty, nothing more, nothing less. They judged not on what they (and so many of us) may have suspected, but solely on what was presented to them.
Good for them. Good for all of us.
