Summoned: Part 2
I was the 12th and final juror selected. Given the fact this was my first time serving on jury duty, I ended up learning quite a bit about the legal system. What I didn’t realize was that when selecting a jury, the selection process requires you to go in numerical order. So, juror number 1 is the first one evaluated. If they aren’t eliminated from consideration by one of the attorneys, they’ll be selected. Next, the selection process proceeds to juror number 2 and so on. It’s not as if each set of attorneys gets to identify their top choices randomly. Consequently, the lower the number you have the more likely you are to be selected. Since I was number 43, the odds were that I wouldn’t be selected. Surely they would find 12 people in the first 42 options. It looked like that would be the case when the first 7 jurors were selected in the first 12 individuals. But with two significant jumps, we were quickly to the 40’s. The eleventh selection
was juror 39. Even then I figured one of the two men sitting on my right would be selected. So, I was shocked when they called out “Juror 43.”
As the 12th and final juror selected the reality began to settle in that this would not just be a Monday morning commitment. I realized the rest of the week would take me into the depths of the case. It would lead me into the stories of these parents that stood before us and their
respective children. Yet, I was also aware that it was not just the stories of the parents and the children that I would come to know. I was now on this journey with eleven other strangers. People I had never met. In some form or another, I would be learning their stories as well. I
had no idea what to expect.
The jury was a diverse selection of individuals. It was comprised of four men and eight women with at least four different ethnicities represented across all ages. They kept us in a small room and instructed us to not talk about the case until it was complete. This meant each day was filled with multiple breaks and lunch hours comprised mostly of small talk. It forced us to get to know each other. Where we grew up, how many children we had, what we did for a living, favorite shows we were watching, how we were handling downtown parking. The list was endless. It was anything but the case. The judge instructed us to not discuss the case at all until the entirety of the evidence had been presented. Consequently, though we were strangers who were not likely to cross each other’s paths beyond this one week, we grew quite close. Twelve different stories that now overlapped and were pulled together because of one story. The story of the parents on trial.
If you were going to try and summarize it in some expression of chronological order you’d have to go back several years. Out of respect to those involved, I’ll offer different names when retelling the details here. The mom, Kristie, was no stranger to trauma. She had her first child around the age of 17. She had a very strict father who did not react positively to this news. But Kristie’s mom was her refuge. Her safe place as Kristie stepped into the realm of parenthood. However, just three years into motherhood, Kristie’s mom passed away. With her mother’s passing Kristie lost her refuge. Her father kicked her out of the house leaving her with no place to go. So there she was a young single mom, overcome with grief, faced with raising a child on the streets. She had nowhere to go.
Sadly, she found herself in the arms of men who were the opposite of what she needed. The first man she ran to ended up being the father to her next three children. He was a good man, except when he was drinking. When he drank too much, he became abusive. Not to the children necessarily. He took it out on Kristie. After a violent altercation several years before, he was arrested and convicted of domestic abuse. Thrown in prison and no longer around for Kristie or the three children they shared. This is why he showed up in the courtroom in shackles. He was still serving his sentence and had at least two more years to go. Kristie’s next choice for a man was equally traumatic. We’ll call him Louis. She had two more children with him. He also had a temper. Only his target never seemed to be Kristie. He liked to take out his anger on the oldest son, the one whose dad was now in prison. The pattern was clear. Kristie’s life was filled with poor choices, especially when it came to men. Most likely a result of an unhealthy pursuit of the love that was denied her by her own father.
What had led to the trial was that Louis had caused life threatening injuries to Kristie’s oldest son. A sweet and innocent six-year-old boy. Six. Years. Old. Life-threatening injuries. Louis was there the day of jury selection but withdrew from the trial the very next. He voluntarily relinquished his parental rights. His future was in criminal court where he would undoubtedly be charged and convicted for his atrocious crimes. The question before us was about Kristie and her first husband, Rico, who was still in prison.
The argument made by the state was that Kristie was guilty of neglect by entrusting her children in the care of such a violent man. The second part of their argument was that Rico’s prison sentence prevented him from being available to care for these boys. Consequently, in the best interest of the children, parental rights should be terminated so the five boys could be placed in a more stable situation, permanently. Several things made it difficult to answer this question. It's not uncommon for parents to voluntarily relinquish their rights like Louis. But Kristie and Rico had no interest in losing their rights. They had appealed to a jury of their peers in hopes of having their rights retained. Even the attorneys representing the state and the boys acknowledged that Kristie deeply loved her sons, and they were definitely “mama’s boys.” The state had given her steps to complete to have her boys returned. Some of those steps she had completed, others she had not. There was also the question of how much time she should be allowed to complete the steps. Throw in several mistakes made by the state in their handling of the case and it was clear this was not an easy decision.
I could walk you through more evidence and the deliberation process, all of which was burdensome and difficult. But those details are for another day. What I can tell you is that after all the evidence was presented and the jury was finally allowed to discuss the case, many tears were shed. It was deeply emotional. People’s own hurt and previous wounds came rushing to the surface. Stories of wounds that hadn’t fully healed right alongside stories of reconciliation. Though we all tried to be “objective,” it was next to impossible to not have our personal stories color our perspective of the one before us.
It was jarring to realize we were entrusted with a decision that would have life-altering implications and likely introduce additional trauma. The weight of that responsibility was on everyone’s face. In the end, we weren’t unanimous, but the decision was made to terminate Kristie’s rights and retain Rico’s. This was ironic even to us. The reality was very little evidence had been presented to justify terminating Rico’s rights. All the evidence focused on Louis’ horrendous actions as well as Kristie’s questionable decisions and her neglect leading up to and after the incident. Consequently, the lack of evidence involving Rico led the jury to decide to retain his rights. But the weight of everything else led to the heavy decision to terminate Kristie’s.
After the verdict was rendered, the judge entered the deliberation room to help us process our emotions. He encouraged us to not carry the burden of the decision. He acknowledged what an impossible situation it is to make such a heavy decision for strangers. He reminded us that it was their choices and their actions that led to this moment, not ours. But what stood out to me was the insight into his world. When he acknowledged what a heavy situation it was, he looked at us and said, “I hate to say it, but tomorrow, I’ll come back and hear another story that is very similar to this one. It happens all the time. Day after day.” That statement was like a punch to the stomach. I knew it in my mind. I knew this was a common occurrence. But now I had names. Now I had stories. Now I had photographs etched into my brain of the trauma a child had experienced. I had testimonies from doctors and detectives. I had reports from psychologists that broke down the effects of generational sin and abusive men on this poor woman’s life. A woman who was trying to get better but didn’t know how. Didn’t know how to handle the grief. Didn’t know how to recover from an abusive father, abusive husbands and now had to lose her own children. Most importantly, I had the names and faces of five boys
who would be forever impacted by how we handled this case. And to think that similar stories were happening over and over, day after day, made my heart grieve.
All I can say is that the world needs Jesus. We are surrounded by men and women, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, who are scarred by the trauma of brokenness. They are medicating themselves with anger, addiction, unhealthy marriages, and momentary escapes that only add to the pain. They don’t know what to do with their wounds. They don’t know how to heal. They are sucked into the vortex of brokenness with no way out. And they are passing it along to the next generation. We are surrounded by men and women, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters who are desperate for hope. They are desperate to know that healing and reconciliation are possible. They need to hear that peace can be found in the midst of chaos. They need to know their lives are meaningful and have value. They need to know they are loved.
So, who will go? Who will share such a message? Now, more than ever, the Church needs to rise up and be the ambassadors of hope that we’ve been called to be. Yes, we need to pray. But we also need to act. We need to stand in the gap and be a safe place for these children. There should never be a shortage of God-fearing, Jesus-loving families willing to take in a child who has endured such brokenness. We need to recognize that our ministry is not just to the children but to the parents who are just as wounded. We need to be the representation of Gospel-centered hope to the broken families that surround us. We need to pray earnestly and we need to act urgently. Our community, our immediate community, needs the church to rise up. We must be, we have to be, a people who love justice. We need to be a light in the darkness. We need to love the neighbor and care for the broken.
We have all been summoned. The question is if we’ll answer the call.