Earlier this week I was told there are really only four ways to serve your country and participate in your civic duty.

1) Vote.

2) Enlist in the military.

3) Run for office.

4) Serve as a juror.

In October, I received my jury summons and I’m not going to lie, I was pretty excited. The nerd that I am, I love and am fascinated by law, and I have always wanted the experience – just to see what it’s all about and of course, to promote Liberty and Justice for All.

On November 5th, I was selected to be on the jury for a case starting that day. I have to say, the timing was terrible!! I had to cancel a few things I was really looking forward to because my country and Justice were calling me.

The experience as a whole was interesting, educating, vindicating, and almost unbearable.

The case was for sexual assault of a child and three other less serious counts.

Every juror who served was selected because they said that they would:

• Know that the defendant was innocent until the State proved the defendant guilty.
• Know that the defendant does not have to testify and that the jury cannot hold it against the defendant.
• Know that testimony alone can be the evidence for conviction.
• Not be biased or prejudiced in such a case (meaning that because it was a sexual assault of a child case we would not automatically judge one way or another.)
• Not have any say, what so ever, in the punishment – and be okay with that.

Those were the parameters for which we were selected.

We were told we could not research anything about the case, the defendant, the victim, the witness nor anything else said in the court room while we were on the jury. We were told we could not tell anyone what the case was. We were told that we could not even discuss it amongst ourselves until all the evidence was provided.

So, we listened to the testimony of the victim, the “witness” (the first adult who was told about the crime), two police officers and a psychologist as the “expert.”

And then we heard closing arguments. And then we were sent to deliberation.

I should note here that junior high and high school never really leave us. Regardless of not volunteering, not even speaking up, I was nominated by a fellow juror to be the Jury Foreman. (Insert eye-roll here. I am usually selected as “group leader.”  Sheesh!!) I was the youngest in the jury by far and I was the one to officially finalize the verdict.

We deliberated for about 30-45 minutes.

In the end, we unanimously agreed, that I, the Foreman, had to write “Guilty” on the line, and sign my name. We called the Court Bailiff – Tom – told him we were ready and went back to the court room where the verdict was delivered. That happened on November 6th – election day.

The trial moved on to sentencing.

I have been in prayer about this since Monday morning when I  was driving to the court house. Before deliberation, even knowing my position, I prayed for God’s wisdom, guidance and Will. Right after I signed my name saying that this man was guilty of sexually assaulting a child, I buried my face in my hands and begged God’s forgiveness.

Who, after all, was I to convict anyone? Me, who prizes liberty so dearly, though there was no reasonable doubt, though there was not even a shadow of a doubt … who am I to say that a person should be stripped of their rights, their freedom and are to be incarcerated? I knew I had done the right thing and that I made the right decision; and I would do it again. And yet taking such power in my hands and using it is a much more potent experience than one can consider with out actually having the experience.

After the verdict was read aloud, and we went back to the deliberation room and were told to sit tight for a little bit because the lawyers wanted to come back there and let us ask questions of them.

They came in and proceeded to tell us that this convicted felon, was not only guilty of this crime, but was already serving a 60-year sentence for raping a woman at gun point, that they had other victims who were planning to come forward but only if we hadn’t convicted him. This was because the other victims were his daughters, and the prosecution wanted to spare them that nightmare if at all possible.

They also told us that the only reason he continued with the trial instead of just pleading guilty is that he said he wanted to stay in the Travis county jail as it was better than whatever penitentiary  he came had been staying.

Of course upon hearing these pieces of news, I was majorly relieved, vindicated even. But mostly all I could feel was sick. I was sick.

I was sick at the thought that essentially I’d been in the room with pure evil. I was sick that such a person existed and that anyone could do such things.

But most of all – I was sick that I was scared. I was scared that my extreme love of liberty, and fear that liberty taken from one could mean it would be taken from others, could have overturned what my logic and reason professed to be true. Because of good intentions, or good interest, a monster could live among us. Thank God this didn’t happen.

But this internal conflict left me pretty shaken because I do love liberty so much that never thought I would fear it. Never thought I would question if my value on liberty was good or bad. I never knew that some day I would have to reconcile the opportunity cost of believing in liberty.

And as the reaction was emotional, my trained first instinct is to question it. I learned not too long ago that emotions are by their nature, not rational, not logical. They just are. I refuse to be ruled by emotions because there is no purpose behind them. And I always endeavor to live with a purpose. I know that I have to square with this fear and probability on an intellectual level, other wise it will be an itch I have to scratch.

I haven’t sorted it all out intellectually but here’s what I’ve come up with so far: It takes a great deal of faith to have freedom and liberty such as we do in this country. Faith in God and faith in man. We have to have faith, or give people the benefit of the doubt that they will do what is right. That they won’t lie under oath.

Faith is always something I’ve been good at.

And though we will make mistakes as we humans are flawed, I still maintain, despite my fear, that I would rather 10 guilty people live free than one innocent person be imprisoned.

The next thought I had to reconcile – which I don’t think I ever will – is that God some how loves this man who did unspeakable things as much as He loves me. My puny, insignificant brain and heart can’t answer why.

Sentencing occurred on November 7th. I gave the guy my best Bitchface every time I saw him – therefore clearly telling him that he didn’t pull the wool over my eyes and I know that he is a monster. And I wore red – therefore clearly telling him that I celebrate his punishment.

And I totally do. I’d have gone for castration myself but our country is more “humane” than all that.

Inner turmoil aside, I’m glad for this experience.

He was sentenced an 40 years consecutive to his current 60. He is never going to hurt another woman or child.