12AM:
It's not just the time, it's also the movie Ilya and David blog about below (and one of my favorites). Ilya considers whether the defendant in 12 Angry Men was really guilty. I think the author, Reginald Rose, deliberately leaves that unclear. The audience never even hears any testimony, and what we hear second-hand from the jurors is conflicting. It's conflicting for a reason, I think; the idea is to make the audience dwell on the difference between guilt and the absence of reasonable doubt of guilt.
David suggests that Henry Fonda asks a lot of questions that should have been asked by the defense attorney. I would put this a bit differently: I think Henry Fonda is the defense attorney. Rose's clever move is to take a criminal case -- government witnesses, followed by cross examination, closing, and then jury deliberations -- and to present them all as all just part of the jury deliberations. As I see it, the jurors who think the case is easy present the government's case; Fonda's questions are the cross examination and closing argument; and the hostile reaction by jurors who object to Fonda's inquiries are the testimony of the goverment's witnesses under cross examination. This device lets Rose tell the story of an entire criminal trial under the guise of the screenplay being just about jury deliberations. Great stuff.
David suggests that Henry Fonda asks a lot of questions that should have been asked by the defense attorney. I would put this a bit differently: I think Henry Fonda is the defense attorney. Rose's clever move is to take a criminal case -- government witnesses, followed by cross examination, closing, and then jury deliberations -- and to present them all as all just part of the jury deliberations. As I see it, the jurors who think the case is easy present the government's case; Fonda's questions are the cross examination and closing argument; and the hostile reaction by jurors who object to Fonda's inquiries are the testimony of the goverment's witnesses under cross examination. This device lets Rose tell the story of an entire criminal trial under the guise of the screenplay being just about jury deliberations. Great stuff.
It reminds me of a story I heard about Oliver Wendell Holmes (surely apocryphal), where he and one of his clerks are riding the train, look out the window and see a flock of sheep. The clerk says "oh, look, those sheep have just been sheared," and Holmes says, "sure, on the side you can see." Is there a doubt about the other side of the sheep being sheared. Technically, yes, you haven't seen the other side. But is it a reasonable doubt? No.
By the way, I love that movie, and I DO thing the doubts raised were reasonable ones.FWIW.
The process of the trial is there for a reason (I'd like to think), and part of that is to allow for the truth to be drawn out. (O.K., so I'm a hopeless idealist on some things). And part of drawing the truth out is to winnow out random speculation. As much as I like the movie as art, I'm left at the end feeling that all I got from the proceeding was speculation. And that turns the movie into a setup piece against the justice system, IMHO.
What are jurors supposed to do then, when they independently--and let's assume reasonably--come up with an alternative explanation for a piece of evidence, suggesting the defendant's innocence, that was not addressed by either the defense or the prosecution? Are they supposed to knock on the jury room door and have the bailiff go summon the prosecutor for a rebuttal?
I know that you couch Fonda's objections in terms of speculation, but the entire movie consists of him trying to prove to the other jurors that his points aren't speculation (e.g. liberally timing the one disabled witness's walk to prove he couldn't have reached his door to witness the defendant running away in time; using common knowledge that El trains make a lot of noise to prove that it's unlikely that one witness could have heard any distinct words when he claimed to have heard them as an El train was passing nearby, etc.). Granted, some of his points are weaker than others (e.g. the "commonness" of swearing to kill someone and not following through or comparing the inability to remember a movie one saw with the inability to what one had for dinner a week ago--we eat way more dinners than we see movies), but they're not idle speculation.
I can understand why you might object to jurors drawing unreasonable inferences or failing, in your estimation, to properly weigh evidence. But aren't you essentially arguing (and I'm drawing from what you've said previous thread) that, when jurors come up with a reasonable explanation pointing in favor of the defendant's innocence that the prosecution or defense failed to address, they should not consider it at all? If that's the case, I'm curious to know why you believe that and how you think your rule could be enforced. (I suppose you could force juries to articulate reasons for acquittals and then scrutinize them, but that still wouldn't get rid of the problem of jurors, aware of such a rule, colluding to give an explanation-presented explanation--e.g. the defense baldly argued the witness was lying and we believe the defense--when they really came up with an non-presented explanation of their own--e.g. the witness is not credible because he claims to have heard distinct words when a train was passing by and we know trains make loud noises that make that unlikely.)
Under the current system, jurors aren't restricted to finding reasonable doubt from only explanations that have been put before them. The likely reason for this is to benefit the defendant by (1) forcing the prosecutor to address all aspects of a case that might create reasonable doubt and (2) giving the defendant extra protection in case his lawyer is particularly bad (remember that this rule arose long before we required counsel, let alone effective assistance of counsel). It's also probably the rule because the alternative--asking jurors to forget what they know from their own experience--is impossible. Indeed, how else are jurors supposed to reason which of the explanations that are presented to them are persuasive? Flip a coin?
You raise very valid objections. I fear I have probably argued a more extreme position than I intend. And you are quite correct that the standard I offered is almost impossible to enforce. I also readily acknowledge that the jurors have a duty to consider other interpretations.
Counterbalancing that I suggest that our system is designed to attempt to present the case in as focused a manner as possible. We have many mechanisms to control the information put before the jury, in order to attempt to present as unbiased and fair a portrayal of the law, the facts, and the circumstances as we know how.
My opinion is that the behavior in the film portrays jurors introducing their own prejudices - some to the detriment of the defendant (deftly countered by Fonda), and some to the detriment of the state (encouraged by the director).
When directions are given to the jury they are cautioned to consider only the facts of the case as put before them by the court. They are not to make up law (although the concept of jury nullification allows this), and not to presume facts that were not brought into evidence.
It is my opinion that inferring one alternative out of many (e.g., inferring the old woman's distance vision was impaired - only one explanation of many possible ones for her habit) is presuming a fact not in evidence, on the basis of ones prejudice.
I can't put my concerns any more definitely or conclusively, since as you've pointed out there are obviously countervailing imperatives. Maybe I just need to have more faith in the other jurors to control the impulses of the more fancifully inclined, but it is my experience that decorum in the jury room is maintained by a universal respect for the instructions of the judge. Can you imagine a jury room operating under the rules of an online forum, a debating society, or god forbid, one of those cable TV talking heads shows where everyone is screaming past each other? The more latitude jurors are given to invent arguments or deduce facts, the more the deliberation will devolve into a contest between the jurors rather than a sober deliberation of the facts.
As in all things, this is just my two cents, and I could be totally wrong.
Sure... but in some sense, isn't the function of a jury to consider the facts presented in the context of the real world and their experience? If the prosecutions case hinged on the claim that on cloudless days the sky was fuschia, and the defense failed to rebut, is the jury supposed to forget they all know the sky really is more often blue than fuschia?
The woman's habit was a fact presented in evidence. Her testimony about what she saw was a fact presented in evidence.
I haven't been on a jury, but aren't jury's supposed to collect these together to decide whether they generally believe the prosecutions theory? (Or the defense theory?)
This isn't introducing facts. It's interpreting them to decide whether the prosecutions analysis is belieable.
I agree. It is a great movie. I also agree it is only drama. But from my experience, it is informative.
My view as a nonlawyer - lawyers in court do not focus on presentation to the jury. Yes, presentation to the jury is their job. But the lawyers I witnessed did not focus on the speech and presentation that would present the best case to the jurors. They kept battling as if the judge was hearing the case (pun intended). The judge is only the arbiter. The jury is the audience and decider.
Jurors do not leave common sense and life experience outside the door. As many commenters have stated, the weight of all the evidence (a wall) is more convincing than the elements (the bricks). Jurors understand circumstances not always depicting reality. Things aren't always what they seem. But when significant elements line up and the chances get slim that it is coincidence, then it becomes telling. They rationalize in a reasonable manner - what are the chances that randomly the police arrested a guy who happens to fit the general description in the area and he was randomly carrying a similar weapon and who had a relationship to the victim and .... If it is questionable, then they will argue that. But if the prosecution makes a reasonable case that they got the right guy, they will convict.
In the words of Dennis Miller, "Hey, this is just my opinion. I MAY be wrong."
Jagermeister,
A few thoughts.
1) I agree that what the jury does in the movie is beyond what you would expect jurors to do, and in some cases, beyond what jurors should do. Taking the movie as really about jury deliberations, Fonda shouldn't have gone out and bought the knife, and the jury shouldn't have been so sure about the old lady's vision. But that's the problem with the plot device: You need to introduce the cross examination somehow, and you need to get that other knife admitted somehow. If you're going to shoot the entire movie in the jury room, you have to take liberties with the jury's role or else the plot doesn't work. You may think this is "fraudulent," but then it's a movie, not a documentary.
2) The system is premised on the notion that jurors will use their common sense and daily experience to interpret the evidence. If that common sense and daily experience creates questions about the government's case, that's known as doubt, not speculation. The question is whether that doubt is reasonable or unreasonable.
Thanks for your response. I think we're pretty much on the same page then. We both want jurors to focus on the evidence that's been presented to them and to be careful with their inferences and alternative explanations. We especially don't want jurors' alternative explanations to be based on their own, likely flawed, prejudices. Perhaps better jury instructions could encourage this, but unless we want to open up deliberations to more scrutiny than we already do, policing the jury's reasoning process in this way is impossible. See, e.g. the advisory committee's note to Federal Rule of Evidence 606(b) (allowing jurors to testify about tampering, mistakes in filling out the verdict form, and the introduction of prejudicial external evidence but forbidding inquiry into "the components of deliberation, including arguments, statements, discussions, mental and emotional reactions, votes, and any other feature of the process").
1) The jury is not cautioned to consider only the facts of the case as put before them. They are allowed -- encouraged -- to consider common sense and general knowledge as well.
2) The jury is not "presuming" anything in the 12AM case. The jury is raising the possibility. The prosecution has the burden in a criminal case of proving the case beyond a reasonable doubt. If there are possibilities that he failed to exclude, and those possibilities raise a reasonable doubt, then the jury must acquit. The fact that he didn't think of them, and thus failed to rule them out, is irrelevant.
The jury doesn't have to "presume" that she is nearsighted. The jury simply has to think it's a reasonable possibility. That's not a "prejudice." That's common knowledge. (Quick google shows that 25% of Americans over 40 are nearsighted.)
Higher, yes, but I don't think it will be vastly higher. In my personal experience, a large majority of people over 40 use reading glasses.
Just a suggestion.
The popularity of the concept, like most of the cultural themes of the late 20th century, stems from the era's most important social development: the bifurcation of America's middle class into an affluent, white-collar "upper middle class" and a blue-collar "working-middle class". The former, discovering its distinct identity, allied with various elements of the poor--most famously, American Blacks, but also criminals, the mentally ill, and other excluded groups--against the working-middle class. Hence, the strange amalgam that became late-20th-century liberalism, combining extreme social libertarianism with massive government assistance to the poor. (The working-middle class responded by forming its own odd alliance with the wealthy, creating late-20th-century conservativism, with its mix of social traditionalism and pro-business libertarian economics.)
To the liberal alliance, the criminal justice system, and particularly the police, represent the working-middle class and their values, while criminals represent the poor allies of the upper-middle class. Hence the arrest and prosecution of criminals is an inherently suspect activity, the accused criminals are presumed noble irrespective of the evidence against them, and the police assumed incompetent, malicious, corrupt or all three.
Twelve Angry Men reflects this worldview: the defendant is a poor ethnic slumdweller, the juror who supports conviction most strongly is a working-class garage owner who turns out to be prejudiced against poor ethnics, and the main juror who defends him is an architect. The film can thus be viewed a morality play about a righteous upper-middle-class professional rescuing a poor criminal defendant from a criminal justice system that embodies working-middle-class prejudices against the poor.
The prosperity of the 1990s upended this four-tiered polarization (the upper-middle class and the poor against the working-middle-class and the rich) in two ways: so many of the poor merged into the working-middle class that the former class shriveled into political near-irrelevance, and the upper-middle class acquired enough actual wealth, to go with their income, that their political interests began to overlap heavily with those of the rich. The result is the structure we have today: a liberalism that essentially reflects the interests and opinions of the affluent, and a conservativism that speaks primarily for the working-middle class. Mainstream liberalism, for instance, has pretty much shed its redistributionist element in favor of cultural libertarianism, environmentalism, and support for middle-class entitlements. Mainstream conservativism, likewise, has abandoned its passion for fiscal restraint in favor of pork-barrel spending, muscular nationalism and other forms of socially and culturally conservative policy.
Nevertheless, there are plenty of political fossils around--especially among activists--whose politics haven't changed since the days when crime policy was a huge battleground between the left and right. And if McKinstry is correct, that same polarization has now made it to Britain.
Reading glasses are to correct far-sightedness. They can see things that are far away, but have trouble seeing things that are near.
I'm nearsighted; this was diagnosed when in third grade when the teacher noticed I got problems correct when we were lined up at desks in the front row, and couldn't do the problem behind the third row because I couldn't read the flash cards, and everything relatively far away was a blur.
People who put on reading glasses but skip the glasses the rest of the time are generally far sighted. If woken up in the middle of the night, they could likely recognize a face even though far away.