By Jonathan Turley
In the end, however, the Tyco juror is more likely to challenge than uphold this romantic image: Her antics reveal the real vulnerability of the jury system to the will and whim of a single juror.
Suddenly, a single juror deliberating in a case of alleged corporate corruption has become the object of public debate. Her character and her willingness to yield after press pummeling is water-cooler fodder. She has been labeled “Ms. Mistrial” and a “batty blueblood” by the New York Post. The New York Times told the world that the concierge where she lives says that she tips badly and didn’t give a Christmas bonus.
All of this is the inverse of “Twelve Angry Men,” in which jurors were defined only by their jury numbers. It is not until the final scene that we actually learn the name of Juror 8 (Davis), played by Fonda, or that of his ally, Juror 9 (McCardle). They then disappear into the streets — rejoining society as individuals. The film captured the ideal of service; the yielding of one’s personal bias and interests and even identity to achieve a higher good.
That Tyco Juror No. 4 can no longer uphold the ideal of anonymous service is hardly her fault. However, in other ways, No. 4 has proved on her own to be half the measure of No. 8. She has shown the same courage to hold out, but she appears to share few of the Fonda character’s other traits. He scrupulously sought dialogue among his fellow jurors and avoided dogmatic opposition. In the Tyco case, one alternate juror has complained that No. 4 was overtly biased toward the defense from the start, nodding in approval of defense arguments and arguing with her fellow jurors during the trial. Other jurors complained that she refused to even discuss guilt. It is hard to imagine the Fonda character giving either side the OK sign during the trial — but that’s what Juror No. 4 is alleged to have signaled to the defense at one point.
The fact is that in the nearly 8,000 instances of hung juries each year in this country, single holdouts are often not inspired but irrational; not catalysts of justice but obstacles to it. In a Texas case, murderer Marcus Cotton was spared by a single holdout juror in his first trial despite overwhelming evidence that he killed a young Texas prosecutor, Gil Epstein. Cotton was fingered by his accomplice and other witnesses, including a security guard who saw Cotton shoot Epstein in the parking lot of a Jewish Community Center in 1996. Cotton confessed to the killing to a friend. Yet a single juror refused to even consider his guilt. According to the other jurors, he was insulting, swore in deliberations and insisted that Jews were rich enough to fund CrimeStoppers to solve crimes. It took a second jury less than an hour to convict Cotton.