This room is exactly what you’d expect from a municipal building built in 1960. It features hard metal edges, low ceilings, and fluorescent lighting. There was a small TV in the corner of the room and a larger, boxy TV that was showing videos about the jury system. The video featured famous but forgettable celebrities. I’ve never served on a jury before, much less in New York, so the content was a little basic, but it was broadly informative. And they asked the question.
I could serve on such a jury.I was enthusiastic He will serve on such a jury. I just don’t understand why people would try to avoid jury duty. For me, I always thought it was both a civic duty and (more importantly) a fascinating experience. At the time, I was working in consulting and my contract had just ended, so I raised my hand.
The Civil Court building is located in the lower end of Manhattan, a few blocks north of City Hall. This is located in what was once called Collect Pond. This small body of water served first as a source of fresh water and then as a reservoir for all sorts of terrible pollutants in the early days of the city. (Eventually, the canal that drained the pond was filled in and Canal Street was created.) Those of us who volunteered were ushered out of the first room and stopped by a security guard to avoid having to go through security again. and entered the criminal courthouse across the street. building.
Donald Trump’s criminal trial is about to begin on Monday.
Since then, I have visited the building several times on behalf of the Post, attending the first criminal hearing of former Trump campaign manager Paul Manafort and the first criminal hearing of Trump Organization CFO Allen Weisselberg. Interviewed. But that morning in early April 2009 was the first time I had entered the building. In the end, I met Anthony, the son of New York socialite Brooke Astor, who is accused along with co-defendant Frances Morrissey of taking advantage of and assaulting his mother, who has dementia, almost every day from May until early October.・I was scheduled to attend Marshall’s trial. Siphon off some of her wealth.
But I knew nothing about it when we crossed Center Street and entered the criminal court building. I knew the name Astor, but Astor Place, for example, was a train stop that I used to take regularly. But I didn’t know about Brooke Astor’s death or the charges against her son. We were taken to a small room (I don’t remember, but probably a courtroom) and given a long questionnaire to fill out.
What area did I live in? Who did I live with? Was I employed? What news sources did I follow? What did I do for fun?
Some of the questions were directly related to the incident, which I only realized in hindsight. Would you donate to charity? (The money Marshall stole would otherwise have gone to New York institutions such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art.) I had expertise in wills and powers of attorney, right? Or? (Morrissey, the lawyer, was accused of working with Marshall to alter and amend Astor’s will.) Was there anyone I knew who had Alzheimer’s disease? (As did Astor.) Did you know anyone who I would consider “very wealthy”?
There were also questions about co-defendants and Astor himself. Have you heard of them? This was supposed to be an indication of what I was getting into, but again, I hadn’t heard of the incident. Potential jurors in the Trump case, on the other hand, will have a hard time escaping the (much longer) questionnaire they were given without knowing what was at stake.
“Do you have any strong opinions or firm beliefs about former President Donald Trump?” “Or do you feel that the fact that he is a current presidential candidate would interfere with your ability to serve as a fair and impartial juror?” There is also a question, “Is it?” Another asked if potential jurors had ever thought of themselves as supporters of QAnon or the Proud Boys, something not raised in the Astor case.
I filled out a questionnaire, submitted it, and was then sent home.
I don’t remember what brought me back to court, whether I was told to return immediately or if I received a phone call to do so. But either way, I’m back. I passed through security and arrived at the 15th-floor courtroom where the final trial would take place: New York State Supreme Court Justice A. Kirk Bartley Jr.’s courtroom. I secretly took a photo. I wasn’t supposed to take pictures.
This was the last time I would sit in the gallery of that room. There was a group of competing lawyers at the front of the room, but I didn’t notice any of them. The clerk had a large rotating drum that you could use to draw bingo numbers. It was filled with cards representing each potential juror. The clerk pulled a card and the person identified went into a back room to meet with a team of lawyers. They were then either dismissed or given a seat in the jury box.
Honestly, I don’t remember much of the process since my card was one of the first ones drawn. I nervously got up and went to the back room. I later learned that it was in the jury deliberation room. More precisely, the jury had been waiting for months while the lawyers argued in the courtroom – the judge’s chambers.
It was small and dimly lit, lit only by natural light. I was asked about the survey, specifically whether I knew anyone who had Alzheimer’s disease. I said it was a relative of someone I had only met once or twice. Apparently to the lawyer’s satisfaction, I was brought back and sat in the jury box. She is her third seat two places below from the chef and will serve as the landlady thanks to the chef being her first choice. And right next to him was a woman who would later be fired for clearly disrespecting the defendant while eating lunch with other jurors.
There was a summary That’s horrible, when lawyers asked questions of jurors as a group. They asked me a few questions and I answered them in jest. Although I was still looking forward to serving, I quickly regretted doing so. In the blink of an eye, the jury and several alternates were chosen. The trial was scheduled to begin in a few weeks.
The process took some time, but was resolved relatively quickly, even though the case had already received attention in the city’s tabloids and the New York Times. Indeed, the scale and stakes of the Trump trial are much higher, you are much less likely to encounter people who don’t know the defendant well, and much more likely to find people who are predisposed to feel some way. But it’s easy to underestimate people’s ability and willingness to look at information objectively and draw thoughtful conclusions. Especially given the need to collate the evidence available in the jury room (much of which will be in evidence) do not have (familiar to the average New Yorker) legal boundaries.
That was the difficult part of our deliberations, which unfolded over more than a week in early October. We found that prosecutors presented evidence showing that both Marshall and Morrissey violated the portion of the law that they are charged with violating. Although the 12 of us who participated in the deliberations had different views on the evidence and the defendant, nearly all of us approached this issue with objectivity, rationality, and integrity. It is a validation of the process by which we were selected, and the process that is underway this week for a larger incident in the same building.
