Trial protests threaten to undermine justice
“Justice for Laquan,” says the top of many of the signs being carried by the scores of protesters who’ve gathered outside the Leighton Criminal Court Building in recent days. And, near the bottom, “Convict Van Dyke.”
I endorse the first demand. Justice must be done in this case. Laquan McDonald was walking away from Chicago police officers in October 2014 when Officer Jason Van Dyke opened fire, killing him. The circumstances, revealed by police dashcam video, were so troubling that the question of whether Van Dyke murdered McDonald or used justifiable deadly force against him clearly belongs in court.
“Justice for Laquan” requires a full airing of the evidence and a fair presentation of arguments from prosecutors and defense attorneys, followed by a ruling from an impartial judge or jury.
That process is underway. Much of the legal ground-pawing is over, and we’ll soon be hearing opening statements.
And I’m hoping for the second demand. A conviction seems appropriate. I’ve watched the video of the shooting at least 100 times since it was released to the public in November 2015, and I’ve soaked up every story about the killing I can get my hands on. And it looks to me as though Van Dyke acted rashly and without sufficient provocation when emptying 16 bullets into McDonald.
But I don’t confuse “justice” with the informed conjecture of even the most fair-minded newspaper columnist.
Justice is a premise. Conviction is a conclusion.
Declaring Van Dyke guilty before the testimony and presentation of evidence begins, as many of the protest signs explicitly do, is the opposite of justice.
And so is parading around outside a courthouse calling Van Dyke a “racist murderer” over a bullhorn as his trial unfolds. Activist William Calloway told the crowd of protesters, “If he’s acquitted, it’s not just going to be the South Side, not just going to be the West Side, but it’s going to be every side of this city that’s going to rise up and shut this city down.”
No doubt. But exposing prospective jurors to this and other hang-him-high messages as they enter the courthouse threatens rather than supports the ideals of justice.
Sure, it may feel right in this case. I acknowledge it feels right to me. But our justice system is explicitly designed to sort out what feels right from what is right, to guard against, not reinforce, popular sentiment.
“We want to raise people’s consciousness about Laquan McDonald,” Calloway told a Tribune reporter. “We don’t feel like we’re influencing anybody. … We never tried to intentionally say that we’re going to influence jurors.”
Then why choose a spot for protesting that jurors are bound to pass every day?
Van Dyke’s lead defense attorney, Daniel Herbert, argued Wednesday that the entire group of prospective jurors questioned on the first day of the selection process should be excused from service because all of them had likely been exposed to the messages of the protesters.
The request was ironic given how many times over the years police officers have attempted to influence juries and otherwise distort justice by dressing in uniform and packing courtroom galleries.
In 1997, nearly 200 Chicago police officers, many in uniform, showed up at a court hearing and stared down a man who had accused two officers of beating him.
In 2001, scores of uniformed officers showed up for closing arguments and other parts of the trials of Jonathan Tolliver, who was ultimately convicted of the 1998 murder of Chicago police Officer Michael Ceriale. During a break in deliberations at the first trial, which ended in a hung jury, one juror felt so much pressure at the sight that she began crying hysterically.
Appellate courts have occasionally recognized the intimidating effect on jurors of such demonstrations and overturned guilty verdicts. And judges have occasionally prevented police from attending trials in uniform, just as they almost always ban spectators from wearing buttons and other symbols suggesting support for a particular verdict.
Sheriff ’s deputies on Wednesday escorted from the courtroom a spectator wearing a “Jason Van Dyke? Murder” T-shirt. They allowed her to return only after she’d turned the shirt inside out and covered it with a sweater.
My belief in freedom of expression is strong, but it’s outweighed here by my belief in criminal trials free from theatrics designed to influence the result.
I don’t want jurors or witnesses feeling pressure from activists any more than I want them feeling pressure from police officers, gang members or supportive families in the viewing gallery. I don’t want them worrying about the impact of their verdict on various constituencies that have already made up their minds. Not in this case. Not in any case.
Mob rule seems a wonderful thing when you’re on the side of the mob. But when you’re not, the idea that protests would alter charging decisions and verdicts is frightening.
Ideally, jurors and witnesses would be given routes in and out of courthouses away from the signs and sounds of demonstrators (they must walk right by the designated protest zone at the Van Dyke trial). And spectators would be screened from the view of participants and thus prevented from participating in the proceedings.
After the evidence is in and a verdict is rendered, sure, we’re all free to second-guess. Juries get it wrong — remember O.J.? — attorneys stumble, judges err, witnesses lie, new evidence surfaces. Protest can certainly be the appropriate response along with other calls for productive action.
But during a trial, protests and demonstrations only threaten to distort justice, not see it done.
Re: Tweets
The winner of this week’s online reader poll for funniest tweet is, “Never doubt our resolve. We’re the country that defeated the metric system by sheer force of apathy,” by @HatfieldAnne. To receive an email alert after each new poll is posted, go to chicagotribune.com/ newsletters and sign up under Change of Subject.