acquaintance rape in which the victim had accepted an invitation to the defendant’s home after meeting him at a party. The twenty-three-year-old photographer was a compelling witness on her own behalf, adamant about her nonsexual reasons for choosing to go to visit Ivan Tuggs.
But this category of case still remained inherently difficult to try, despite the fact that our unit had prosecuted hundreds of them within the last ten years. It wasn’t the fault of the law but rather the general societal attitude about this kind of crime, which often made unenlightened jurors reluctant to take the issue seriously.
The basic problem faced by women who are raped by acquaintances is that the classic defense relies on painting them as either liars or lunatics. The crime never occurred and therefore the woman is fabricating the entire story. Or “something happened” between the two parties but she’s just too weird to believe.
For the prosecutor, then, more than half of the battle is in the successful selection of a jury. Intelligent citizens, who are blessed with common sense and a lot of the liberal instincts acquired by daily exposure to urban social life, handle these matters pretty well. But unsophisticated women, who tend to be far more critical than men are of the conduct of other women, are usually better candidates for judging stranger rape cases than for assessing most dating situations. That had been my own experience too many times to count and I had tried to pass on that wisdom to my troops.
“You saw the jury, right, Alex?”
“Yes, why?”
“Well, what did you think?”
“More women than I like for this kind of case, but you told me that your panel was uneven.”
“I swear, Alex, it was a sea of women in that jury pool. There was nothing I could do about it.”
Stop whining, Phil. “What’s the problem?”
“Everything was going fine ‘til the end of the day. It was so cold in Part 82 that the jurors asked the judge to turn up the heat, just before the first cop on the scene took the stand. An hour later, it was so overheated that we were all sweating. Juror number three stood up, right in front of everybody, gave out a big ’ ‘scuse me,’ and pulled off her sweatshirt.
“What’s she got underneath? A T-shirt the size of a billboard, spread around her 44D chest, emblazoned with big fuchsia letters:FREE MIKE TYSON. ”
It was hard to stifle my laugh, but Marisa and Catherine were ahead of me.
“It’s not funny, guys, really. Tyson was tried in, what, ‘91? That means this woman hasn’t bought a lousy T-shirt in more than half a dozen years and had no choice but to wear this one, or else she sincerely believes in her cause. And if that’s the case, I think we’re screwed.”
“What did the judge say?” Marisa asked.
“Well, nothing. We just kind of exchanged glances, but—”
“You mean you didn’t ask her to examine the juror in chambers? Get your ass up there immediately, Phil. I heard the part of your voir dire when you questioned them about whether they believed the nature of the relationship between the parties made this a ‘personal matter’ and not a crime. You got all the right answers.
“You’re in front of a really good judge for issues like these. Tell her you want a sidebar and that you’d like her to ask number three some questions before you get under way today.”
“Don’t you thinkI should be the one to ask them?”
“No way. We’ll give them to you now, and you write them out for the judge. The last thing you want the juror to think is thatyou’re singling her out to pick on her. If she survives this challenge and stays in the box, let her believe it was the judge who didn’t like her taste in casual wear, not you. We don’t want her taking it out on your case.”
Catherine offered to go up and give Phil a hand with his application so I could get on with what I had to do.
Laura buzzed me on the
But this category of case still remained inherently difficult to try, despite the fact that our unit had prosecuted hundreds of them within the last ten years. It wasn’t the fault of the law but rather the general societal attitude about this kind of crime, which often made unenlightened jurors reluctant to take the issue seriously.
The basic problem faced by women who are raped by acquaintances is that the classic defense relies on painting them as either liars or lunatics. The crime never occurred and therefore the woman is fabricating the entire story. Or “something happened” between the two parties but she’s just too weird to believe.
For the prosecutor, then, more than half of the battle is in the successful selection of a jury. Intelligent citizens, who are blessed with common sense and a lot of the liberal instincts acquired by daily exposure to urban social life, handle these matters pretty well. But unsophisticated women, who tend to be far more critical than men are of the conduct of other women, are usually better candidates for judging stranger rape cases than for assessing most dating situations. That had been my own experience too many times to count and I had tried to pass on that wisdom to my troops.
“You saw the jury, right, Alex?”
“Yes, why?”
“Well, what did you think?”
“More women than I like for this kind of case, but you told me that your panel was uneven.”
“I swear, Alex, it was a sea of women in that jury pool. There was nothing I could do about it.”
Stop whining, Phil. “What’s the problem?”
“Everything was going fine ‘til the end of the day. It was so cold in Part 82 that the jurors asked the judge to turn up the heat, just before the first cop on the scene took the stand. An hour later, it was so overheated that we were all sweating. Juror number three stood up, right in front of everybody, gave out a big ’ ‘scuse me,’ and pulled off her sweatshirt.
“What’s she got underneath? A T-shirt the size of a billboard, spread around her 44D chest, emblazoned with big fuchsia letters:FREE MIKE TYSON. ”
It was hard to stifle my laugh, but Marisa and Catherine were ahead of me.
“It’s not funny, guys, really. Tyson was tried in, what, ‘91? That means this woman hasn’t bought a lousy T-shirt in more than half a dozen years and had no choice but to wear this one, or else she sincerely believes in her cause. And if that’s the case, I think we’re screwed.”
“What did the judge say?” Marisa asked.
“Well, nothing. We just kind of exchanged glances, but—”
“You mean you didn’t ask her to examine the juror in chambers? Get your ass up there immediately, Phil. I heard the part of your voir dire when you questioned them about whether they believed the nature of the relationship between the parties made this a ‘personal matter’ and not a crime. You got all the right answers.
“You’re in front of a really good judge for issues like these. Tell her you want a sidebar and that you’d like her to ask number three some questions before you get under way today.”
“Don’t you thinkI should be the one to ask them?”
“No way. We’ll give them to you now, and you write them out for the judge. The last thing you want the juror to think is thatyou’re singling her out to pick on her. If she survives this challenge and stays in the box, let her believe it was the judge who didn’t like her taste in casual wear, not you. We don’t want her taking it out on your case.”
Catherine offered to go up and give Phil a hand with his application so I could get on with what I had to do.
Laura buzzed me on the
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