Continued from Jury Duty: Part One and Jury Duty: Part Two
We closed this case on July 3, 2012. Every day I still think about the plaintiff and the family of the defendant who lost their son. I see vehicles similar to those involved in this case and can't help but think about it. I think about how very different things could have been for both parties in this case -- how one moment, one split-second decision could have changed the outcomes greatly. And it drives home for me how fragile life is and reminds me constantly that life can change in a second.
There was no celebration by the plaintiff when the verdict was read. There was relief, sure. When we hugged outside the courtroom, the mood was still solemn and pensive. The reality is that the 10+ million dollars we awarded to the plaintiffs will not change the fact that their lives have changed forever. It does not erase the memory of that day. It does not cure the pain. It does not send the plaintiff back to work.
I can't help but wonder what it all matters. Knowing now what I do about details of the case not presented to us during the trial and about the post-trial motions, I know that the plaintiff likely won't see all of that money, but I take comfort knowing that our verdict paved the way for him to receive a substantial enough amount that he and his wife will, at the least, recoup their losses. Still, in moments of anger and frustration over the experience a part of me wonders why the court put the ten of us through this ordeal if they weren't going to take our word as gold.
In my conversation with the defense attorney after the trial closed, I learned that his client really does feel that they are not responsible for any of the damages in this case. They have, for years, denied any liability. It's not out of self-protection or disrespect for the plaintiff. They just really feel that the accident was unavoidable and no one person's fault. Their feelings simply aren't justified. The details of the case are too many to describe here, but I can say with reasonable certainty that the company implicated in this suit was negligent, even if their employee who was driving the vehicle was not individually responsible.
People judge. Family members and friends who I've shared the details of this case with make flippant comments like "Wow, good job bankrupting that company!" or "Whoa! 10.5 million dollars? They'll never see it." I understand that they don't have all of the information. They can't. They weren't in that court room to hear all of the evidence. The jury was, and we are the only ones who truly know whether or not that number was justified. Never again will I question another jury's decision. I know now that what the public hears and sees regarding court cases is so limited compared to the vast amount of information presented to the jury. Of course the public will come to a different decision -- it doesn't have all of the information.
It was the role of the ten of us to act as the judge in this case, and we did just that. We delivered a verdict based on the evidence, and we stand behind it. I would encourage anyone who is called for jury duty to appear before the court with an open mind. So many people work so hard to be excused from jury duty. It's our responsibility as citizens, and it's an experience worth having even if it is one of the most difficult things you'll ever do.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Jury Duty: Part Two
Continued from Jury Duty: Part One
On days two through five, we heard testimony. And lots of it. The physicians testifying on behalf of the plaintiff were his treating physicians -- the physicians he sees on a regular basis and who know his needs. They testified to his past experiences and his future needs. The overwhelming consensus was that the plaintiff was lucky to be alive. He would have ongoing medical needs and would experience chronic pain for much of his life. His quality of life and ability to work were greatly diminished.
The physicians testifying for the defense were expert witnesses, professionals being paid for their opinions. It was difficult to separate the amount of monies these physicians were being paid to review records, do a brief physical examination of the plaintiff (if at all), and show up to court to testify. Because of my work at UNMC, I know that independent medical review is a common practice, but this felt different. It wasn't really independent. These physicians were being paid thousands of dollars to appear in court, and something about that felt dirty and made me question how they could be impartial. On one hand, it seemed their fees should have been irrelevant. It wasn't though -- it was part of the evidence and part of the trial precedings. In the end, we had to separate our opinions about the payment made to expert witnesses from their actual opinions.
We heard from additional folks during these days -- a private investigator, vocational rehabilitation specialists, an economist, a cognitive psychologist, and life care planners. I focused on every word, every document. And I went home exhausted, confused, and overwhelmed. Since we were not allowed to discuss the case with each other or our family, all of this information just bottled up in my brain, tossed around, and was just looking for an escape. I felt like a ticking time bomb -- I wanted and needed to debrief, discuss, and argue the points of this case, and I could not. Not yet.
On day six, both sides in the case presented their closing arguments and presented the case to the jury for deliberation. It was not until that morning that we were finally given some guidance about the amount of money the plaintiff was asking for. The numbers were staggering. Knowing that the decision we were about to make was so huge, my anxiety grew. Finally, the judge gave us instructions for deliberating and sent us to the jury room.
Once settled in, we decided on a foreman before going to lunch. I had concerns at first about his ability to lead a group of opinionated citizens (mostly women), but he proved to be an excellent choice. He was thoughtful, considerate, and efficient. He moved our deliberations along nicely, always checking for unanimity at each step, and recognizing the places where we needed to really hash things out.
The jury was a good mix of citizens -- a nurse, a teacher, an IT professional, a retiree, and a laborer. We had more women than men, and we were all white. In some ways, we were very much the plaintiffs' peers, and in some ways we could not be. We had to consider all of the evidence. We had to consider what awarding a large sum of money would do to the company being sued. We had to consider the cost of medical care, how to assign a dollar amount to pain and suffering, and how to compensate the plaintiff and his wife for their loss of quality of life.
In the last moments of deliberation, we added up all the parts and agreed that the sum of money we were awarding was much more than we had anticipated. We did not change it, however, because we really felt that we had done due diligence in examining all of the evidence. We came to a decisions together, based on what we learned during the trial and based on our own life experiences, and we felt the verdict was justified.
It took us a full business day to complete deliberations -- the afternoon on day six and most of the morning on day seven. At about 11:15 am, we let the Court Deputy know we had reached a verdict. Once everyone was assembled, the ten of us returned to the court room and listened as the Court Deputy read our verdict. I watched as the plaintiff and his wife were visibly moved by our decision. I shed a tear or two myself. I did not look at the defendant, though I wish I would have in retrospect. And I watched as other jurors were equally as upset as I was. The weight of our decision was never more apparent.
What we had just done was going to change the lives of all parties involved. And I could not help but wonder how we were qualified to make such a decision. On the other hand, aren't we the best people for the job? Isn't that the point of our judicial system? Though I was exhausted and overwhelmed by the responsibility of deciding this case, I wouldn't change a thing -- not the verdict, not the experience, not anything.
After the verdict was read and the judge made closing statements, we were released. Free to go. Free to talk to our families about the case. Free to talk to the press. Free to talk to either party in the case. Free to research the case. We were thanked for our time and sent back out into the world with no debriefing, no post-trial counseling, nothing. We all returned to our daily lives -- the plaintiff cannot, and the defendant will never have her son back.
We went back to the jury room, tidied up, and walked out. We were warned that the plaintiff or defendant might wait for our departure and want to discuss with us the case. I was prepared to give both parties my business card and take the afternoon off from the trial -- I decided before leaving that I would not answer questions that day but would make myself available for future conversations. What I was not prepared for was the sense of closure and relief I felt when I walked out of that jury room, and after shaking hands with the plaintiff's counsel, got to hug the plaintiff and his wife. I got to tell them I was sorry this happen to them and give encouraging words.
To be continued...
On days two through five, we heard testimony. And lots of it. The physicians testifying on behalf of the plaintiff were his treating physicians -- the physicians he sees on a regular basis and who know his needs. They testified to his past experiences and his future needs. The overwhelming consensus was that the plaintiff was lucky to be alive. He would have ongoing medical needs and would experience chronic pain for much of his life. His quality of life and ability to work were greatly diminished.
The physicians testifying for the defense were expert witnesses, professionals being paid for their opinions. It was difficult to separate the amount of monies these physicians were being paid to review records, do a brief physical examination of the plaintiff (if at all), and show up to court to testify. Because of my work at UNMC, I know that independent medical review is a common practice, but this felt different. It wasn't really independent. These physicians were being paid thousands of dollars to appear in court, and something about that felt dirty and made me question how they could be impartial. On one hand, it seemed their fees should have been irrelevant. It wasn't though -- it was part of the evidence and part of the trial precedings. In the end, we had to separate our opinions about the payment made to expert witnesses from their actual opinions.
We heard from additional folks during these days -- a private investigator, vocational rehabilitation specialists, an economist, a cognitive psychologist, and life care planners. I focused on every word, every document. And I went home exhausted, confused, and overwhelmed. Since we were not allowed to discuss the case with each other or our family, all of this information just bottled up in my brain, tossed around, and was just looking for an escape. I felt like a ticking time bomb -- I wanted and needed to debrief, discuss, and argue the points of this case, and I could not. Not yet.
On day six, both sides in the case presented their closing arguments and presented the case to the jury for deliberation. It was not until that morning that we were finally given some guidance about the amount of money the plaintiff was asking for. The numbers were staggering. Knowing that the decision we were about to make was so huge, my anxiety grew. Finally, the judge gave us instructions for deliberating and sent us to the jury room.
Once settled in, we decided on a foreman before going to lunch. I had concerns at first about his ability to lead a group of opinionated citizens (mostly women), but he proved to be an excellent choice. He was thoughtful, considerate, and efficient. He moved our deliberations along nicely, always checking for unanimity at each step, and recognizing the places where we needed to really hash things out.
The jury was a good mix of citizens -- a nurse, a teacher, an IT professional, a retiree, and a laborer. We had more women than men, and we were all white. In some ways, we were very much the plaintiffs' peers, and in some ways we could not be. We had to consider all of the evidence. We had to consider what awarding a large sum of money would do to the company being sued. We had to consider the cost of medical care, how to assign a dollar amount to pain and suffering, and how to compensate the plaintiff and his wife for their loss of quality of life.
In the last moments of deliberation, we added up all the parts and agreed that the sum of money we were awarding was much more than we had anticipated. We did not change it, however, because we really felt that we had done due diligence in examining all of the evidence. We came to a decisions together, based on what we learned during the trial and based on our own life experiences, and we felt the verdict was justified.
It took us a full business day to complete deliberations -- the afternoon on day six and most of the morning on day seven. At about 11:15 am, we let the Court Deputy know we had reached a verdict. Once everyone was assembled, the ten of us returned to the court room and listened as the Court Deputy read our verdict. I watched as the plaintiff and his wife were visibly moved by our decision. I shed a tear or two myself. I did not look at the defendant, though I wish I would have in retrospect. And I watched as other jurors were equally as upset as I was. The weight of our decision was never more apparent.
What we had just done was going to change the lives of all parties involved. And I could not help but wonder how we were qualified to make such a decision. On the other hand, aren't we the best people for the job? Isn't that the point of our judicial system? Though I was exhausted and overwhelmed by the responsibility of deciding this case, I wouldn't change a thing -- not the verdict, not the experience, not anything.
After the verdict was read and the judge made closing statements, we were released. Free to go. Free to talk to our families about the case. Free to talk to the press. Free to talk to either party in the case. Free to research the case. We were thanked for our time and sent back out into the world with no debriefing, no post-trial counseling, nothing. We all returned to our daily lives -- the plaintiff cannot, and the defendant will never have her son back.
We went back to the jury room, tidied up, and walked out. We were warned that the plaintiff or defendant might wait for our departure and want to discuss with us the case. I was prepared to give both parties my business card and take the afternoon off from the trial -- I decided before leaving that I would not answer questions that day but would make myself available for future conversations. What I was not prepared for was the sense of closure and relief I felt when I walked out of that jury room, and after shaking hands with the plaintiff's counsel, got to hug the plaintiff and his wife. I got to tell them I was sorry this happen to them and give encouraging words.
To be continued...
Monday, August 13, 2012
RIP Walter
He came to us as an old man, already suffering from some normal ailments older dogs have -- fatty tumors and stiff joints. We knew we wouldn't get much time with him.
He loved sitting on the back porch watching the days go by, chasing bunnies under the shed, and going on walks. But, as dogs do, he began to have trouble getting up off the floor and navigating the stairs. His body just decided the time had come, and we made the decision to let him go. While there is comfort in making that decision for him, it's still hard to see him go.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Building Our Zoo
It's funny, when I was young I looked forward to the day that my cycle would start with such anticipation and celebrated when it did. It was a major relief that I had made it another month without an oops! How the tables have turned! -- I greet "Shark Week" like a sentence these days. On the one hand, it's reassuring to know that my body is, in fact, working and cycling. But it also means another month that Mike and I don't get to start our family.
I stopped taking my birth control pills in July 2009. We weren't actively trying to conceive, but we felt we were ready to open our hearts and home to a baby should we be presented with the opportunity. There were certainly times when we avoided baby-making (not the act, the outcome). Job changes, financial stress, Dad's illness, trying to sell our house, and other events or circumstances sort of haulted things, but we were still in a "whatever happens happens" mode. We've been telling friends and family who ask for three years just that -- whatever happens happens.
But it ain't happening. We've been actively trying for about six months with no luck. I've been charting and pinpointing my fertile days. At my age, it probably would not hurt to see my doctor. But we're just not there yet. Part of me wants to relax, get healthier, and just embrace the process so that we can be utterly surprised and overjoyed when that test does show a positive result. But we're also getting older. And we're ready. So ready.
I stopped taking my birth control pills in July 2009. We weren't actively trying to conceive, but we felt we were ready to open our hearts and home to a baby should we be presented with the opportunity. There were certainly times when we avoided baby-making (not the act, the outcome). Job changes, financial stress, Dad's illness, trying to sell our house, and other events or circumstances sort of haulted things, but we were still in a "whatever happens happens" mode. We've been telling friends and family who ask for three years just that -- whatever happens happens.
But it ain't happening. We've been actively trying for about six months with no luck. I've been charting and pinpointing my fertile days. At my age, it probably would not hurt to see my doctor. But we're just not there yet. Part of me wants to relax, get healthier, and just embrace the process so that we can be utterly surprised and overjoyed when that test does show a positive result. But we're also getting older. And we're ready. So ready.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)