Policy & Practice December 2017

on a shooting and cold-blooded murder. The man who was licensed and trained to use a firearm at work to protect others’ property will no longer be able to protect or occupy his own home. We voted to indict this man with great reluctance. � Responsible Family. On TV, certain families from hard places can be depicted as loony, irresponsible, and full of drama. Upon hearing of their 16-year-old son’s involvement in a high-profile shooting being broadcast on local news, this family gathers up their son and turns him in. They stay with him and support him as he faces multiple felony indictments, but never waver in their conviction that their son needs to learn responsibility. This from one of DC’s “bad neighborhoods.” � Phone and Metal Pipe Pals. Two 20-something friends get into a cellphone beef, with one taking the other’s phone and running away with it. The other friend chases him into an alleyway, where the phone thief picks up a metal pipe to back away his temporary foe. A 911 call sets the process in motion for a mul- ticount felony indictment request, including the parents, for obstruc- tion of justice. Our jury voted this one down, not due to the probable cause test, but because “if this happened in an affluent place in DC, it would be never have gotten to us.” Both the accused and the victims we came to know often brought us pain and sorrow—the “knowing” so elo- quently understood by my friend. But they also brought us hope and inspi- ration—especially victims of abuse. Especially the children we met, who at times were shrugging off what we could hardly hear. IV. “Thank God for Grand Juries” One other important thing I took away from grand jury duty was a fuller awareness of the strong motivation

as we can become more tender and compassionate beings.” I think she’s right. So I’m no longer trying to move past these and other profiles from my community: � Mom. She was one of our first cases, a young mom who was street smart and street tough. She was a witness to her own assault by a recent boy- friend. Near the end of her testimony she looked to our jury, tears rolling down, and begged us to help her find another place to live so she could focus on her kids’ education and get a good job. � Bird of Prey. Some witnesses came before us in orange jumpsuits and shackles. This man in his 50s had seen it all. He looked at us with the curiosity and quiet intensity of a bird of prey. At first he scared me. But by the end of his testimony, I just realized he was a quiet, introspec- tive man, aware of and accepting his fate in life, with stoicism and a well-schooled alertness to the next situation where he’d have to glide away or attack. � Zac. My son’s name. He’s in the Marine Corps, which was a reason- able decision on his part given his limited “executive functioning” capacity. This witness, also in shackles, spoke in the same cadence and determined but easygoing tone of my own son. He was able to repeat from memory five different accounts of a carjacking gone to murder, told to him at different times. His accounts were so consis- tent, yet at the same time so varied and nuanced, that they broke my heart, thinking of his lost, brilliant potential. � Off-Duty Guard. A man supports his wife and two daughters, one with severe learning disabilities. The other daughter befriends a loafer who refuses to leave this man’s house for months. He finally calls the police, who briefly visit and tell him there’s nothing they can do. Thirty minutes later, 911 is called

effective. The forces within these communities close ranks among them- selves much of the time as a result. Our jury learned right away that the court process was itself not trusted by most of the people brought before us. Ratting and snitching were viewed by many as akin to the crimes we were reviewing. One witness sprang away from the stand, claimed to be “on every drug” and begged to be let go out of fear for his family. Others calmly lied to us, and others laughed and joked as they were lying. These place-based conditions may result in a cycle of crime and community-based fear, but not because the people living there are genetically predisposed, or are not possessed of American values. There’s just no trusted substitute for those with influence who live in the community itself. One day when we didn’t have anything on our regular docket, we were told we would be handling the “RIP” cases that day. RIP cases are for potential drug indictments. These were brought to us to complete, soup to nuts, in less than an hour. A detective or police officer was interviewed by the prosecutor, we were given instruc- tions, and we voted. While most of these cases struck us as credible, two related concerns arose. First, drug use in middle-class or affluent places is also high—witness opioid abuse—but since the methods of dealing are more visible and dangerous in poor places, we were only seeing those. Second, since the drug trade in poor places requires arming one’s self, almost all the indict- ments carried counts of violent crime that result in a much harsher outcome for those involved. I recently shared with a friend my sense of not being able to move past the experience. She reminded me that what I cannot “move past” is healthy, in the sense that I can no longer dispense with empathy and disregard painful things taking place in my com- munity. According to this friend, “it makes the ‘knowing’ worth the pain,

Today’s felon is yesterday’s vulnerable child.

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Policy&Practice   December 2017