I was one of the people who watched the Anthony trial from start to finish. I was literally attached to the TV most of the day, fascinated by the evidence, impressed with DA Jeff Ashton's intense and skilled cross-examinations. Most of all, I'd fallen in love with that little girl, who reminded me so much of my own daughter at that age. I wanted desperately for justice for the person who threw her away like so much trash.
When the case went to the jury, I thought, "Whew, at last. Back to normal life. It should take them some time to deliver a verdict. This is, after all, a MURDER trial with over 300 pieces of evidence entered in over thirty days of testimony. No need to rush. I know I would want to get it RIGHT." Imagine my surprise when the jury came back in less than 11 hours with a verdict. Without a doubt I knew, as did everyone else, that they had not bothered to review the evidence. News later came in that they never even sent out any questions(oh, they did send out for lunch).
Like the rest of the country, I was outraged. But instead of vilifying the jurors, the defense attorney, and the accused I decided to turn my anger and frustration into creativity. Because I write, I started a story from the point of view of one of the jurors that has to go home and deal with the ramifications of her decision. Is it one she now regrets? Will she lose relationships with people she once loved because of her decision?
This story may not go anywhere, but it has been cathartic to write it.
