The case in District of Columbia Superior Court seemed simple enough. In the wee hours, an officer patrolling on Minnesota Avenue spotted an oncoming car with one headlight out. The officer made a U-turn, followed briefly, and then pulled over the black Lexus.

The driver could not produce a license. The officer smelled alcohol. A field sobriety officer, acknowledged by the judge as an expert, conducted tests. A third officer, a U.S. Navy veteran, attempted to obtain a breath analysis, which the driver, apparently, declined.

Another day of making justice dawns at District of Columbia Superior Court at 500 Indiana Ave. Photo Credit: John A. Bray

Were we jurors to believe that this trio of officers couldn’t tell whether the driver was under the influence of alcohol? She had pleaded not guilty. Our sworn duty was to presume her so unless the prosecution proved guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

We headed into the two-day trial in late 2015 in a charged national atmosphere of relations between the police and civilians, particularly minorities. No explanation of our verdict was required. But as I reflected, my silence came to feel like a void.

What might the prosecutor, cops and defendant presume about our decision? How, if at all, might that affect the way they proceed? I needed to work through how the scale tipped for me. Other members of the jury panel doubtless took their own varied paths to their decisions.

As jurors, we were the sole triers of the facts and the credibility of the witnesses. We were instructed not to be “improperly influenced by anyone’s race, ethnic origin or gender.” Our panel was well mixed by color, gender and occupation. The officer who stopped the car was a black woman, as was the driver. The two other officers were white men; judge, white woman; defense attorney, white man; and prosecutor, white woman. I am a white man. Whatever the influence of color and gender as we proceeded, it did not strike me as overt, though possible implications ran in the undercurrents of my own thinking. The tougher challenge was balancing the inconsistencies and nuances of the law and evidence.

Testing, Testing, Testing

The field sobriety officer administered no fewer than five roadside tests, which included the proverbial test of walking the line. He testified that the driver took more steps than instructed and stepped off the line, but not how far off the line.

There was a test of reciting a section of the alphabet in reverse. She got it partly correct. In her opening statement, the prosecutor herself stumbled in her recitation as she previewed the testing that would be described.

There was an eye test, where the officer watched for lack of smooth tracking. All of the clues indicating being under the influence were present, the officer testified. The test is considered 77 percent accurate.

She accurately performed a numbers recitation test. On a balance test of standing on one foot, she apparently set her foot down too quickly. She told the officer she was anemic.

A breath test was apparently pursued. The driver was taken to a police station. She apparently was presented with a consent document, and, apparently, declined. A short video of her seated handcuffed at the station showed her wavering. It was difficult to distinguish what part of her movement might be due to the influence of alcohol, what part to the jittery quality of the video, and what part to her state of mind. The third officer described her as very emotional. No video was introduced of the roadside test administration.

What Is Reasonable Doubt?

Our initial anonymous poll as we began jury deliberations showed us tied, six to six. We were several hours away from the required unanimity to render a verdict.

Our deliberations involved a wide range of experience and dispositions – jurors familiar with people who drank and drove and people who could beat sobriety tests. There was speculation about the police simply trying to meet arrest quotas and bias in treatment of suspects based on status. Worry was expressed about how we would feel if we decided to acquit and the driver went out and drank and drove and killed someone. Worry was expressed about how we would feel if we wrongly convicted her. In a way, we were on trial too as community members.

The Constitution provides for an impartial jury. But who knows what biases might escape the juror screening and its presumptions? Did my acknowledgement of a family member in law enforcement predispose me to favor the prosecution? I said I would be impartial. I had covered trials as a newspaper reporter, but had never served on a jury in my 54 years.

Wrinkles in rights required ironing. The driver exercised her constitutional right to remain silent. We were instructed not to hold her silence against her. We also were instructed that if we decided that she had refused to take the breath test, we were permitted to consider the act as “tending to show her feelings of guilt, which you may, in turn, consider as tending to show actual guilt.” Can someone suspected of being under the influence be expected to soberly review and sign legal documents? Would the police ever be able to make a case without accommodations and deference for authority?

It had been inadvertently disclosed during testimony — in an exchange between the defense attorney and a witness about entry of information in a report — that the driver previously had been “in the system.” The judge told us to disregard information that might indicate prior contact with police.

We were to conduct no investigations of our own. We were not to consider what sentence might be imposed. Wherever shadows remained we would need to feel our way.

The consensus among jurors was that the driver probably was under the influence. But as deliberations proceeded the not guilty votes in our anonymous straw polls gradually mounted.

At one point, one of the holdouts, offered her rationale for guilt. The driver’s car was running without one headlight. She was driving without a license. She had been drinking. It was three strikes. It sounded like common sense. But, at least for me, it was a case for irresponsibility, not, ultimately, convincing of the specific charge at hand.

The officer who made the stop testified that she observed no sign of actual erratic driving. It was relevant evidence to consider, according to the judge, but proving that her driving was impaired was not required, only that she was driving under the influence.

In my view, the sobriety tests had piled up excessively. It conveyed uncertainty. The officers were working on overtime. Could fatigue have factored in their assessments?

How many shades of gray does it take to obstruct a clear view? Reasonable doubt, the judge instructed, is “the kind of doubt that would cause a reasonable person, after careful and thoughtful reflection, to hesitate to act in the graver or more important matters in life.” Our verdict was not guilty.

With so much controversy afoot on our airwaves about administration of justice, I look back on the tiny action of our jury with marvel. Tempers showed, but civility prevailed among 12 strangers rather suddenly assembled to deliberate on unusual, complex and serious issues. I hoped we had done the right thing. As a fellow juror and I rode down the escalator together, we remarked on the fragility of finding justice. We walked out of the H. Carl Moultrie Courthouse at 500 Indiana Ave. and went our separate ways.

© 2016 John A. Bray