We all know the justice system never delivers the truth. Despite asking witnesses to give “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,” lawyers want anything but. They ask questions that will yield only a fraction of the truth, or a certain angle of truth. The slice of truth that helps their client, or their chance of a conviction.
In the James Ray manslaughter trial phrases such as prior bad acts, 404(b), causation, disclosure, and relevant case law have limited the scope of testimony (or the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth).
I don’t think anyone was fooled into believing the entire story would come out at trial. It’s a defense attorney’s job to limit damaging testimony. And this case has a ton of it.
I was prepared to be frustrated.
I wasn’t prepared to be scared.
Over the last two days, the defense has argued for a mistrial (for the second time in a week) based on a simple two-page email that the prosecution failed to turn over to the defense. (Over 8,000 pages of evidence has been given to Mr. Ray’s team. But 7,998 pages out of 8,000 could – it turns out – be good enough for a mistrial.)
The notion that James Ray will walk out of that courthouse a free man, legally blameless for these deaths, has crossed my mind. However my mental version had the jury (at least one or two stubborn members of it) hung up on some reasonable doubt.
I wasn’t prepared for that to come via a technicality.
Since the trial began, any watcher has noticed the approach of Sheila Polk, the lead prosecutor. What she lacks in style points she more than makes up in intelligence, strategy, and an unflappable nature that allows her to cover all of the bases. She has been impressive to say the least.
But over the last 48 hours, the notion that Sheila’s team could lose the whole ball game because someone didn’t hit “fwd:” on an email seemed impossible. And it taught me just how important this trial and its outcome really is to me.
Judge Warren R. Darrow took just a few hours to make his ruling. But as I mindlessly sat in my backyard swing, I didn’t think. I just felt.
I called Kirby’s mother, my Aunt Ginny, to see how she was. She was at work and she was, in her words, “horrible.” Contrary to my reasons for calling her, neither of us felt better for hearing each other’s voices. I heard the fear in her voice; I was reminded how much more important these proceedings in Camp Verde, AZ are to her.
She buried a child.
We had a bad connection and the call dropped after just a couple of minutes. Neither of us tried to reconnect. I felt hollow. I texted Kirby’s brother, who had encouraging words for me. But mostly I waited.
This couldn’t be over today; the search for (part of) the truth, the (legal) responsibility for the death of three amazing people, the closure sought by so many for a large part of this senseless tragedy. It hung in the balance because 0.00025 percent of all the documents were not sent to Mr. Ray’s lawyers.
Thankfully, Judge Darrow ruled against a mistrial. Though he said a “Brady violation” was committed (that’s the legal jargon for failure to disclose a document), his belief was the evidence included in that two-page email was not different than evidence already known by both parties.
Someone’s right to a fair trial is not to be taken lightly. It’s a notion on which our legal system rests. As much as a defendant may not be likable (and this one is far from warm and fuzzy), he deserves his day in court, and he deserves a fair trial.
It was hard to fathom that a two-page email by an expert that the state did not hire, was not ultimately called as a witness, and the contents of which were not a formal report, could derail Mr. Ray’s fair trial.
I wondered what rights Kirby Brown, James Shore and Liz Neuman were built into this system. Life is not fair. Death, it seems, might be less fair.

Anyone following this trial has been walking on eggshells for weeks. With each witness, each piece of testimony, and the momentum of one side over another, we tread carefully. But starting today, we move on, walking on another layer of figurative eggshells – just to get to the end of the trial.
And we hope everyone’s rights are protected and realized. Including those of Kirby, James Shore, and Liz.