“. . . it’s been a long time since the news has made me slack-jawed . . . I’m shocked, but not surprised . . . “
That’s what I posted to facebook around 2:30 on July 5th. I deleted it by 2:45 after I saw the vitriol spewing on facebook.
Don’t misunderstand. Back in 2008 when Caylee first went missing I knew Casey was guilty. I was disgusted with her partying instead of reporting that her 2-year-old Caylee was missing. Who doesn’t call the police for 31-days? Someone who either a) knows what happened or b) doesn’t care. Or both. I’ll even admit that I was glad she lived in Florida and even looked forward to the trial where the jury would be sure to sentence her to death by electric chair.
But did you watch the trial?
The highlights then?
No?
I can’t blame the jury.
Clunk.
OW! Don’t throw stones just yet.
For every piece of “evidence” that the prosecution had, the defense one up’d them. Even if they didn’t completely one up them, they were good match for match.
Prosecution Expert: “There’s a ferocious dead body smell. And my, until-now-untested dead-body-smell-o-meter is registering corpse smell off the scale.”
Defense Expert: “Actually, the smell might not’ve been a dead body. It could’ve been food.”
Prosecution Expert: “There were searches on the computer for chloroform and . . . stuff . . .”
Me: That’s great! Wait, how many other people live in that house and have access? . . . . oh. Hmm.
Dr. G: There was duct tape on that baby’s mouth and there is no other reason that duct tape would be on a child’s mouth other than homicide. (NOTE: Dr. G was the coroner; she ruled the death a homicide.)
Me: Slam DUNK! Nobody beats Dr. Garavaglia. Dr. G! Dr. G!
Defense Expert: The body was so badly decomposed that it would be impossible to tell if there was duct tape stuck on the skin.
Here’s the rub. The jury must be convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that Casey committed murder. There only needs to be a seed of doubt. And remember, something as small a mustard seed grows into a very large tree.
Why am I so sure, then, when the jury was not?
Why have I condemned her so quickly that the sound of power surges and of her frying in the electric chair seems like faint memory?
Are we privy to information that the jury was not? Maybe so. If we say, definitely, yes, then where do we trace that information back to? The media.
The media (God love them) prey on our need for story . . . drama . . . action. They have to keep us watching. It’s their job. Should we trust the way they manipulate our emotions so that we stay tuned?
Trust me. They had me going from the minute that Caylee was missing; I was hooked. This thing has been as compelling as a watermelon seed fight in an Alabama July. But . . . hasn’t this been the case in the past?
Excuse me while I grab a glass of OJ. Oh, are you feigning no memory of that one?
One of the “media hounds” I watched today described the jury as having “poker faces”. And poker players don’t have poker face only because they are trying to hide something, they have “poker faces” because they are thinking, calculating, counting. I’ve been riding on the disgust and sorrow of my emotions not relying on my ability to listen and analyze.
I need to take a minute and just think.
We have a wonderful constitution that allows us all the right to have a jury of our peers. Can we practice gratitude that, not only do we have such a right, the government takes it seriously enough to sequester juries against the dramatic inflections of reporters? It’s hard to remember what they are put through when so vehemently caught up asking yourself, “what were they thinking?”
It only takes a shadow of a doubt to walk away from the death penalty. A shadow.
I believe in God. Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Maybe for you it’s not so specific; maybe it’s just Universal Consciousness. Either way, take a walk with me. This walk is with God. He is a personal guy (or gal, if you want). Not so easy to get to know, at times, but personable. Not quite like us, but we’re a little like him sometimes (her, if you insist). He speaks to us directly; we don’t always hear him, though. I think he’s pretty loud and clear a lot of times. If he could say something about this, and I think he’s shouting, what do you think it would be?
No, not that the United States legal system sucks.
No, not that there has been a great miscarriage of justice.
No, not anything about the Defense lawyers or the jury or the Prosecution or even Casey.
What would he say about my response to all this? About yours?
I was pretty quick to jump on that condemnation bandwagon. I still thinks she’s guilty and a poor excuse for a human being. I’m still disgusted at her 31-days of remorselessness. This reminds me of "Glass House" by Ani DiFranco: "the darker it is around me, the easier it is to see inside."
I find that I am standing in a circle of people surrounding her. A crowd has gathered.
I notice a stone in my hand. A heavy stone.
I rub it with my thumb. It’s a rough stone, not smooth at all. It’s dense. Hard. Dirty. Dry.
And very, very heavy.
Is it too heavy to drop?
That’s what I posted to facebook around 2:30 on July 5th. I deleted it by 2:45 after I saw the vitriol spewing on facebook.
Don’t misunderstand. Back in 2008 when Caylee first went missing I knew Casey was guilty. I was disgusted with her partying instead of reporting that her 2-year-old Caylee was missing. Who doesn’t call the police for 31-days? Someone who either a) knows what happened or b) doesn’t care. Or both. I’ll even admit that I was glad she lived in Florida and even looked forward to the trial where the jury would be sure to sentence her to death by electric chair.
But did you watch the trial?
The highlights then?
No?
I can’t blame the jury.
Clunk.
OW! Don’t throw stones just yet.
For every piece of “evidence” that the prosecution had, the defense one up’d them. Even if they didn’t completely one up them, they were good match for match.
Prosecution Expert: “There’s a ferocious dead body smell. And my, until-now-untested dead-body-smell-o-meter is registering corpse smell off the scale.”
Defense Expert: “Actually, the smell might not’ve been a dead body. It could’ve been food.”
Prosecution Expert: “There were searches on the computer for chloroform and . . . stuff . . .”
Me: That’s great! Wait, how many other people live in that house and have access? . . . . oh. Hmm.
Dr. G: There was duct tape on that baby’s mouth and there is no other reason that duct tape would be on a child’s mouth other than homicide. (NOTE: Dr. G was the coroner; she ruled the death a homicide.)
Me: Slam DUNK! Nobody beats Dr. Garavaglia. Dr. G! Dr. G!
Defense Expert: The body was so badly decomposed that it would be impossible to tell if there was duct tape stuck on the skin.
Here’s the rub. The jury must be convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that Casey committed murder. There only needs to be a seed of doubt. And remember, something as small a mustard seed grows into a very large tree.
Why am I so sure, then, when the jury was not?
Why have I condemned her so quickly that the sound of power surges and of her frying in the electric chair seems like faint memory?
Are we privy to information that the jury was not? Maybe so. If we say, definitely, yes, then where do we trace that information back to? The media.
The media (God love them) prey on our need for story . . . drama . . . action. They have to keep us watching. It’s their job. Should we trust the way they manipulate our emotions so that we stay tuned?
Trust me. They had me going from the minute that Caylee was missing; I was hooked. This thing has been as compelling as a watermelon seed fight in an Alabama July. But . . . hasn’t this been the case in the past?
Excuse me while I grab a glass of OJ. Oh, are you feigning no memory of that one?
One of the “media hounds” I watched today described the jury as having “poker faces”. And poker players don’t have poker face only because they are trying to hide something, they have “poker faces” because they are thinking, calculating, counting. I’ve been riding on the disgust and sorrow of my emotions not relying on my ability to listen and analyze.
I need to take a minute and just think.
We have a wonderful constitution that allows us all the right to have a jury of our peers. Can we practice gratitude that, not only do we have such a right, the government takes it seriously enough to sequester juries against the dramatic inflections of reporters? It’s hard to remember what they are put through when so vehemently caught up asking yourself, “what were they thinking?”
It only takes a shadow of a doubt to walk away from the death penalty. A shadow.
I believe in God. Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Maybe for you it’s not so specific; maybe it’s just Universal Consciousness. Either way, take a walk with me. This walk is with God. He is a personal guy (or gal, if you want). Not so easy to get to know, at times, but personable. Not quite like us, but we’re a little like him sometimes (her, if you insist). He speaks to us directly; we don’t always hear him, though. I think he’s pretty loud and clear a lot of times. If he could say something about this, and I think he’s shouting, what do you think it would be?
No, not that the United States legal system sucks.
No, not that there has been a great miscarriage of justice.
No, not anything about the Defense lawyers or the jury or the Prosecution or even Casey.
What would he say about my response to all this? About yours?
I was pretty quick to jump on that condemnation bandwagon. I still thinks she’s guilty and a poor excuse for a human being. I’m still disgusted at her 31-days of remorselessness. This reminds me of "Glass House" by Ani DiFranco: "the darker it is around me, the easier it is to see inside."
I find that I am standing in a circle of people surrounding her. A crowd has gathered.
I notice a stone in my hand. A heavy stone.
I rub it with my thumb. It’s a rough stone, not smooth at all. It’s dense. Hard. Dirty. Dry.
And very, very heavy.
Is it too heavy to drop?
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