The Jackson Trial
By Burton S. Katz/Retired L.A. Superior Court Judge
So Tasha, Marjorie, Nicole and Sasha blasted into my mediation room squealing about the Jackson verdict coming in and demanding that our ARC clients and I surrender the only mediation room with a TV! Didn’t they know that I was immersed in an important construction defect case? Yeah, but they could care less and nothing, but nothing, could stop them. Within seconds the TV displayed Jackson’s motorcade wending its way to the courthouse. I apologized to our mediation clients, who promptly told me to shut up and watch the breaking news.
“So judge, what do you think the verdict is?”
Not wanting to risk any possible loss of credibility, and having suffered a fool’s view of juries in the past, I decided to do the mealy mouth shuffle. “Yah know it’s difficult to call, because we can’t see the body language of the jurors. There’s an old adage that if the jury refuses to look at the defendant than he’s a cooked goose, and if they refuse to look at the prosecutor he’s sauce for the gander!”
“Oh come on,” they said, “tell us what you think.”
I was trapped; there was nowhere to hide. I remember mumbling something to the effect that “they’ll probably convict him of something.”
Then the TV anchor reported that the jury had arrived at verdicts on all counts. Emboldened by this, I stupidly decided to be decisive: “It looks bad for Jackson, this may be it for him.”
“So you’re predicting,” the girls said in unison, “that he will be found guilty of child molestation, Is that what you’re saying?”
I nodded, trying to affect my best Yoda-esque countenance.
Well, folks, the force was not with me, and the Darth Vader Jury struck 10 light-saber blows for “not guilty.” The case was over. Jackson was free to go, but perhaps never to be Peter Pan again. Interestingly enough, I was not stunned or angry, but only saddened by this whole celebrity process. I was disgusted with media people gleefully talking about Corcoran State Prison, where Charles Manson and Richard Ramirez are housed, as being the logical place where Jackson would be incarcerated after the (“guilty”) verdict. It was obscene. The glee over another’s pending fall was palpable! Part of me was glad that Jackson beat the charges, beat the predictions of people who seemed to dance on the pathetic image of a fallen star whose father physically abused and exploited him until Jackson turned into Wacko-Jacko!
In last week’s Malibu Times article “Peter Pan or Pedophile,” I mentioned some of the things we think about but dare not say publicly. It bears repeating. The jury did not like the mother; the jury did not like nor believe the “victim.” The jury did not believe the prosecution witnesses. They wanted to punish the mother who willfully placed her son in harm’s way, who willingly left her son with Michael Jackson, knowing his reputation as a child predator. They could not align themselves with a mother who left her son in Jackson’s bedroom, knowing that her son would sleep in Jackson’s bed. Nor could they align themselves with an abusive father of the alleged victim. They were unwilling to gift the parents and so-called victim with the DNA of a $50 million civil judgment that was as certain to follow a guilty verdict as weeds follow rain.
Perhaps they wanted to send a message to prosecutor Thomas Sneddon, who seemed to pursue Jackson with the same zeal as Inspector Javert pursued Jean Valjean in “Les Miserables.” We will never know whether the jury felt Jackson’s pain of a lost childhood, a diminishing career, consigned to a life of weirdness and public humiliation.
I do not fault this jury as some do, though I believe in my heart that Jackson committed the child molestation offenses. There was ample justification from the imperfect case the district attorney presented. After all, who in their right mind would commit acts of child molestation after the intense scrutiny that followed the now infamous Bashir videotape? The defense proved that the victim and his family had strong motives to fabricate the charges. It also proved the many inconsistencies in their respective testimonies. It also proved that they were grifters-out to make a quick buck. The law says that if it raised a reasonable doubt, the jury must acquit. And that, my friends, is the soul of American Justice.
There is something about this thing called Celebrity Justice. O.J., Blake and now Michael. These are tough cases for the district attorney. We might want to spank our naughty celebrities, but we just might not want to bury them unless the case is crystal clear, beyond all doubt-beyond all doubt being the new standard for celebrity justice.
The Jackson version of Peter Pan no longer exists. The jury is out on whether Jackson can reinvent himself in a positive way and resurrect his moribund career. Rumors abound that he will next appear in Las Vegas, where anything goes, but hopefully no child molestation. Jackson should keep in mind that even celebrities can fall on the third strike.