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You understand it's not like CSI. Right? says the judge. She pulls her glasses down and glares. The jurors smirk and look away, thinking Well, duh: no babe or hunky guy is anywhere in evidence. The clown who's Plaintiff is in ripped jeans and a tee; the prosecutor's suit is thin and shiny. His line is that Defendant pulled a gun on Plaintiff, on a stretch of rural highway, but photos (staged) to show what P. could see look wrong: a different car, a different weapon, a trumped-up view not shown convincingly — no fingerprints, no blood, no DNA. Only the troopers' word they found the gun. (The tech can't get their video to play.) And why they thought the accused should testify is still a mystery. But the jury's keen to take the case and wrangle. What they say can't apprehend what's true and what's a lie: Which actor here's the sympathetic one? Drama at last: men shout and women cry. The state will try again another day. Jury dismissed. No justice will be done this episode. It's not like CSI. Maryann Corbett |
