The Verdict

A few minutes ago, the jury in the Brad Cooper murder trial found him guilty of first degree murder, meaning life in prison without the possibility of parole. The judge passed the sentence, and the appeal has been filed.

The Twitter feed on this case had become pretty narrow. I lurked some but quit posting because the loudest voices became nasty and/or disrespectful and/or showed little understanding of what was happening, or how it might sit with the jury. I have watched a lot of trials. I have read a lot of books. I give myself high marks for both empathy and objectivity. That somewhat contradictory mindset is what a juror has to have. Maybe that's why I can read them pretty well, even from a distance. Of course, unless we're in the courtroom, we don't see, hear, or feel what the jurors do. That means we are always at a disadvantage and it behooves us to stay humble.

The loudest Tweeters of the last couple of weeks are shocked by the verdict. Shocked. Amazed and shocked and stunned.

Perhaps some of the people behind those voices will begin to understand the process a bit, when they've calmed down. Ultimately, that's the value of following these tragedies. We learn about ourselves, other people, and what our legal process is about, warts and all. That is a greater good.

The process doesn't end, of course. An appeal court may find reversible error. The Tweeters did, but I'm glad they don't get a vote. If the Tweeters aren't already aware the North Carolina as the only method in the country for actually appealing on the grounds of innocence. That's something I'm very proud of.

And down the road, what if it is determined that Brad is one of wrongly convicted? It'll be awful, another layer of endless hurt caused by Nancy Cooper's death.

A few days ago, Osama ben Laden was killed in my name. I turned back to the beautiful expression of humanity from John Donne, so it's fresh on my mind. For Nancy, killed for no reason other than it suited her killer, and for Brad who has been sentenced in my name, I quote it here, and wish for each of you, peace.

"All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated...As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon, calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come: so this bell calls us all: but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness....No man is an island, entire of itself...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." From John Donne's Meditations