It has been a long while since I’ve written here.
Partially because of the hectic nature of the last few months and the things I choose to do with and for my family that take my nose out of this computer screen.
Partially because I am still determining what is “mine” and what is “yours” and how to share it.
Partially because I am still confused about what the purpose of this blog is. I’ll get there…don’t worry. One of these days your inbox will be filled with posts and updates…
But not quite yet.
Today I just need to…receive affirmation. Mostly from myself.
Who has heard the term “Beyond A Reasonable Doubt?” I have. A lot lately, actually. Yet, no one seems to be able to say exactly what this means. I can tell you what it doesn’t mean.
1: it does not mean “Beyond All Doubt”
Beyond all doubt is something that requites 100% assuredness that a thing is absolutely correct. If I had been there, on that day, in that place, paying attention to everything that was happening before me…If I had been watching all of the events unfold in microscopic detail… If I had absorbed it all into my matrix…then perhaps I could be 100% sure of the thing. But I wasn’t. And I can’t.
And I’m not.
2: it does not mean “Beyond The Shadow Of A Doubt”
Apparently it’s a Columbo thing. Kids: TV is not always right!
The best definition I can come up with is that a reasonable doubt is the point at which a doubt no longer becomes reasonable.
I know…like water right!
I have reason to doubt that this crime was committed because I have not been shown sufficient evidence to prove that it was. All I see over there is a man. Not just like me, but enough. It is their burden to remove my doubt. Let the games begin.
[Side note. I hate to use the term “theatre” here, but this was definitely a finely tuned performance. The characters played their rolls well, and the audience was captive (well, kind of literally.) The exhilaration abounded. Photos and recordings and police. Around each twisting corner there was another fact, or an objection, or a huddled mass whispering together occasionally leaking out a single word. “Inadmissible.” “Hearsay.” “Speculation.” If I do say so myself, I bet this format would make quite a wonderful TV show. I could make a million…]
The sticking point, it turns out, is the interpretation of a statement regarding what was seen by a specific individual. A review of the statement plus a little clarification here and a little discussion there leads to a little signature on the line and …Walla!
Doubt Removed!
Three days and some new friends, and my duty to society has been paid!!!
Right?!?!?
It turns out no. It turns out that the man sitting at the table is still a man. And he is still waiting for his judgment.
“Yes we have.” I say for the first time. The first words of mine he will ever hear.
And we had…we had changed his life. What else could we do? We had no reason to doubt what we had been told. It all fit like a puzzle. Well, enough at least.
And then the strangest thing happened. The shape of the puzzle changed. The black pieces all turned white, and the white ones all turned…around.
Suddenly it felt as though the trial had begun again. [Side note: in Texas the trial system is broken into two parts…the criminal trial and the sentencing trial that immediately follows, utilizing the same jury. Apparently, all this happens before lunch. They don’t mess around in Texas!]
What’s this…? A Criminal history?
What’s that…? Nine years in The Pen?
Parole after four?
Early release?
Good Behavior?
And he’s 25 years old!
A bitch girlfriend who keeps getting in trouble?
A good man who has made some mistakes trying desperately to help the woman he loves, his baby’s mama…his common-law wife…to help her turn her life around. Bad things only happen to him when SHE’s around.
Another criminal accusation? (Its Her! She’s crazy in the head!)
An un-edited recorded interview (its funny that they never mentioned the fact that the interview was edited the first time they played it. That must not have been important.)
He didn’t have a DAD!!!
And the tears.
And I am confused. I don’t know what to believe anymore. The idea of a TV screen (or better yet, a power button) becomes more and more appealing.
And I think of my daughter. Now…I am not the same as this man. But…his son. Isn’t he the same as my daughter? Doesn’t he need love? Doesn’t he need strength? Doesn’t he need a hand to hold? And a cheek to kiss? And someone to read that story, or watch that game, or correct that spelling, or…
And I begin to doubt. Somehow, on some level, it seems reasonable again. Somehow, on some level, I internalize the decision that was made as if it was mine alone, and I feel guilt. Not necessarily towards this man…but for his child. I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders and placed squarely upon my soul.
And I decide that I don’t want this man to rot in prison for life.
I decide that I believe he wants to change his ways. To make something of himself and to be his baby’s daddy.
I decide to give him another chance. It’s not his second change, or even his third, but it is his child’s only chance.
“Yes we have.” I say for the second time. The last words of mine he will ever hear.
Ten years isn’t that long, right? Good behavior can maybe cut it down to five or six? That’s before junior high for someone who is 5 now. Right?
It’s the best I could do for this child. And it is likely more than the father deserves. But if being busted multiple times and returning to jail and prison doesn’t change someone’s ways, I think the only hope is the smile of a child. The knowledge that those eyes are looking at everything you do and learning how to live life from what they see in you… The knowledge that you have a clean slate with the only person who truly matters.
Well if that can’t straighten you out, then I don’t know what can.
And now my part in this is done.
I was excited at 8:00 Monday morning…the thrill of the trial. Guilt or Innocence?
But I have come home a changed person.
I hugged my wife, and I kissed my daughter. I thanked the world for all that I have and for treating me well.
And I thought…
God Dammit! Next time, can’t it just be a jaywalker or something?
