Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [194]
The courtroom fell silent in anticipation. I couldn’t imagine what he was going to say and braced myself for this unexpected presentation. “Her medical records list the following items checked off: Nutrition, Alcohol, Drugs, OTC’s and Vitamins, Smoking Before Pregnancy, Smoking Currently, Secondhand Smoke.”
Flabbergasted, I shot Brock a look of panic. How could the defense paint me as such a monster, rattling off a list of lies? The judge requested a break, during which time I turned to Brock with tears of fury in my eyes. It was a feeling worse than being exposed—it was exploitation. I had no idea how they could have mustered those assertions about me, and I searched Brock’s face for an answer.
“Don’t worry, Elissa,” he said to me softly. “I have it.” I nodded.
Brock rose for a counterstatement. “I am about to do something that is very against my nature,” he began, and I watched, stunned, as Brock’s passion and emotion poured out of him. By the time he was finished, my respect and affection for him had only increased. He zoomed in on the medical record Bugden had tried to use against me, exposing a flaw in the defense’s argument. Brock held up the paper for the jury to see, elucidating with an his pointer finger three little words printed above that fateful list of checked boxes: “Not a concern.” Immediately, the courtroom was filled with gasps and murmurs. When it grew silent again, Brock continued.
“I’ll tell you this,” he said in conclusion. “No matter who it is—a preacher, a Buddhist, a friend, a parent—if they had done this to a young girl, they would be in here too.” It was a phenomenal moment because this was not just a testament to me, nor was it about taking Warren down. It was not just about a high-profile trial and to add a feather to the prosecution’s cap. Brock was simply defending the law of the land and what the prosecution knew was right. He was defending not only my honor but that of every young girl in the state of Utah.
The jury had much to discuss, and it wouldn’t be an easy road for them. The panel of five men and three women went to the deliberation room to decide the case and remained there for about two hours that Friday before being dismissed for the weekend.
The jury reconvened on Monday, September 24, but by the end of the day there was a problem. One of the female jury members had not been completely candid in her juror questionnaire, failing to mention that she had been raped at thirteen. Apparently, at some point during the heated deliberations, she’d let the fact slip out, and as Monday’s discussions wound to a close a note was sent to the judge alerting him to the situation, informing him that the jury was hung. They couldn’t reach a unanimous verdict. The following morning, I learned of the problem. I assumed that the rape victim was the sole holdout for a guilty verdict. My heart sank as I tried to confront the idea that seven of the eight jurors wanted to acquit.
That morning Judge Shumate met with attorneys from both sides to determine how they would proceed. After some discussion, he instructed the juror to step down, but this left a larger question looming. The judge had not released the four alternate jurors from jury duty and had ordered them to refrain from watching TV, reading newspapers, going online, or doing anything that might compromise their oath. Since these jurors were all still on active jury duty, could the court proceed with an alternate juror or would the judge have to declare a mistrial?
The dismissal of the juror alarmed our team and made me worry that the jury was leaning toward a “not guilty” verdict. Furthermore, I felt deep empathy for the juror who’d been excused, knowing that if it weren’t for me, her private story would not have been