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...
