Thomas J. McFeeley Communications

The outcome of this trial will never bring “closure” to our grief. There is no way to fill the enormous hole that Kirby’s death leaves in our family. We will always long for her joy, enthusiasm, love and compassion.  Our hearts are forever broken by her death, just as our lives are forever blessed by her life. 

The family of Kirby Brown would like to thank the members of this jury who have set aside their lives for 5 months as they carefully considered the evidence presented to them.  We appreciate their dedication and careful discernment of the facts presented and regret that so much information which may have led them to a different conclusion was withheld from them. This trial has been a bitterly trying time for us, as well as for the families of James Shore, Liz Neuman, and Colleen Conaway – and those participants who have been traumatized by the events of the Spiritual Warrior Retreat. 

Our system is clearly designed to protect the rights of the accused and while many of the rules of evidence are proper, those same rules can be manipulated to confuse and obfuscate the truth.  Just because James Ray has been found “not guilty” of manslaughter does not mean that he has not conducted his business or his teaching recklessly for years. Rather, he escaped through legal loopholes. If he practiced what he preached, he would have accepted responsibility for his actions. He is a dangerous person who has shown little regard for the victims of the tragedy in Sedona.  He should not be allowed to lead events such as the Spiritual Warrior Retreat in the future. 

As the horrific details of the three deaths emerged in this trial, we realized that the potential danger posed by “self-help” gurus extends well beyond James Ray.  Since Kirby’s voice has been forever silenced, her family will now speak for her.  We have launched a not-for-profit organization, SEEK, (Self-help Empowerment through Education and Knowledge) to educate the public about the self-help industry. It will empower all seekers to ask important questions and consider possible “red-flags” before following a self-proclaimed “guru”, even if they have been vetted by the public media.  We will work to protect those desiring personal growth by exposing scam artists and frauds. 

SEEK will advocate for professional standards, and explore avenues of accountability for this totally unregulated industry. 

The SEEKsafely.org website is officially ready for participation. Kirby, our “super nova”would be proud that we stood together, each day to speak and seek the truth. 

We would also like to thank the Victim Services of Arizona, who have been incredibly gracious and helpful to the family and friends of the victims during this nightmare.  To the prosecutorial team and police investigators, who have not just been our “legal” defenders, but have displayed incredible compassion and sensitivity all throughout this trial, we owe a great debt of gratitude.

You know the old expression about what happens when you assume…..

Since day one of the James Ray manslaughter trial, the defense has tried to present its own specific version of reasonable doubt; that toxins could be responsible for killing three people and causing 18 other injuries.

In his opening statement, defense attorney Luis Li specifically mentioned that one witness, Ted Mercer said they used construction wood to heat the rocks in Mr. Ray’s imitation sweat lodge. Mercer may have guessed (or assumed) that construction wood was treated wood.

So, in the trial, the two phrases “construction wood” and “treated wood” have been used interchangeably.

About two weeks ago, my girlfriend mentioned to me that she has a thing for log cabins and has done some casual research about nicer log homes. She seemed to remember that the logs often used in cabin construction, so-called D-logs, were not treated until after construction. After the home was built, the outside of the logs were treated to withstand weather, etc.

Lo and behold, yesterday Michael Hamilton, owner of Angel Valley Spiritual Retreat Center, took the stand, he was asked about the wood used to heat the rocks for Mr. Ray’s event. They are construction logs, he said, but not treated wood. His employees were all instructed never to burn treated wood.

The defense has also proffered that rat poison was used the building where the tarps that were used to cover the lodge’s structure. One witness has said there were “granules” of poison kept in openings where mice and rats could possibly get into the building; but not where the tarps were stored.

Speaking of tarps, most people (myself included) have assumed that tarps were one of the materials used to line the roof of the lodge. We had seen the blue materials; many people have already referred to the “tarps.”  The blue material, it came out this week, were moving blankets – the type you’d get at U-Haul. Thick, but ultimately breathable.

So while the defense has given the jury images/thoughts/dreams of vinyl tarps dripping poison on participants or blankets full of pesticides, the state has skillfully and patiently waited for this testimony to counter the “reasonable doubt” theory of the defense.

It should be noted, the defense has shifted to emphasize the construction of the lodge itself and whether it contributed to the deaths of three people. While they are still offering the suggestion that an employee could have improperly used pressure treated wood, the prosecution seems to have put a huge brown rubber covering on Poison-gate.

And for James Ray’s defense team, they’ve been reminded what happens when you assume…..

With more than 10 days since she last took the stand, Debbie Mercer returned to the Yavapai Superior Court to resume her testimony.

You may remember that she, her husband Ted, and daughter Sarah were the fire tenders at the James Ray imitation sweat lodge on 2009. Debbie’s specific role was to open and close the flap to the lodge when Mr. Ray ordered. She gave compelling and important testimony that Mr. Ray ignored pleas from participants that specific people were “not breathing.” Afterwards, she testified, Mr. Ray sat in a plastic chair in the shade while chaos of his own doing surrounded him.

Early in her testimony, she clarified an answer she gave earlier in the month. She didn’t hear someone say people were “not breathing,” but rather that they were “unconscious.” While the language is significant, her reason for mixing up her words brought my favorite moment of the trial so far.

“I was having a hot flash,” she said sheepishly on the stand.

Mercer, like her husband and Fawn Foster before them, are among a handful of non-participants, folks who worked or volunteered at Angel Valley retreat center. Ordinary people caught in the middle of an international news story, a horrible tragedy, and something they realize is bigger than themselves.

But when Foster uses phrases like “critter biscuits” to describe pest control and Ted Mercer refers to “the big rubber deal” (a large brown covering over the sweat lodge structure), it shows that maybe they are bigger than this event.

They have shown remarkable poise, a hint of detachment from the tragedy, and grace under incredible fire. Those qualities may actually be forcing Mr. Ray’s high-priced lawyers off their game.

Debbie Mercer, following her hot flash comment, was subject to cross-examination by defense attorney Tom Kelly. In that testimony, she admitted she did not remember her interview with police while she was in the hospital (she was feeling nauseated and hadn’t eaten all day and spent the night for observation following the sweat lodge).

Kelly tried to seize on that and using his incredulous “how can that possibly be” tone that he’s relied upon before, attempted to discredit her. That is when she offered that she was in shock, answering what was asked of her and no more, and she couldn’t remember specific details of the brief conversation with police.

Later, when Kelly asked what’s become a standard question of most witnesses about whether people used their “free will” to leave the sweat lodge, Debbie Mercer countered by saying that those who were unconscious or physically weak could not use their free will and, in some cases, Mr. Ray’s words such as “you are more than that” and “you are more than your body” kept people from leaving.

Others have given similar testimony, but two things about Debbie Mercer made her words more powerful. She wasn’t a participant but an outside observer (see detached).

And she had a hot flash.

When this middle-aged jury goes to work and relies on various testimony to make such an important decision, you wonder what will stick with them.

I’ll bet a local woman trying to do the right thing, that lady who had the hot flash, will stand out. And it could be the difference between freedom and guilt for Mr. Kelly’s client.

When I was a reporter, I loved covering the courthouse. 

Because I reported in one of the richest counties in the country, there were a wide variety of storylines. I remember one day in family court, a very poor inner city couple was bitterly fighting over the terms of their divorce; how they would split up the husband’s $21,000 in annual earnings for their five children. Two cases later a well-to-do mother argued that her ex-husband violated the terms of their previously-filed divorce because he took their two children on vacation without adequate notification.

He took them to the south of France for a week.

Besides that variety, there were the characters: lawyers, judges and the honest to goodness people who earned their paycheck at the courthouse. I always wondered what kind of person, for example, became a public defender – to defend so many remorseless guilty people who lacked resources for their own defense. (One PD once told me “It’s for the kid who just gets caught being in the wrong place at the wrong time. To exonerate someone who deserves a second chance: that’s why I do what I do.”)

Because I had this experience, background and a basic working knowledge of how the system works, I was ready for the James Arthur Ray trial.

Or so I thought.

I’ve helped interested parties make sense of the unusual language of the legal system, filled in details of some testimony with research I had previously done, and kept in touch with reporters about the trial or who had questions about the victims. Surely this kind of work, I told myself, would keep me strong throughout the trial.

But I began having difficulty keeping it together a few days ago when someone (I honestly can’t remember who) testified that when paramedics took Kirby away, that Mr. Ray and his people claimed they had “no information” on Kirby. That they didn’t know who she was.

If you’ve ever met my cousin, or even read about her since this tragedy, you’ll know that she made an immediate impression on everyone. The girl with the quirky name had a dynamite smile, and an even better heart. If you met her for only 2 minutes, you would never forget Kirby Brown.

So knowing that some people affiliated with James Ray (and Mr. Ray himself)  let her be a Jane Doe as she got into the ambulance tells me that after six full days – the last six days of our loved one’s life – they pretended to know nothing about Kirby Brown. Like I once wondered about public defenders, what kind of person does that?

My difficulty arose again late last week when Debbie Mercer, who assisted with the imitation sweat lodge ceremony, testified. She was a local volunteer who often assisted with Angel Valley retreat center events. She was positioned less than 5 feet from the door of Mr. Ray’s imitation sweat lodge ceremony. She gave strong testimony about some of the confusion, chaos, and ultimately silence late in the ceremony from within the tent. She also saw the horror of those who were pulled out, stumbled out, or suffered various physical and mental ailments as a result of the searing heat.

That testimony is consistent with others and did not alarm me; I guess I’m numb to much of the horror. But I found out a few minutes later, I was not.

Debbie Mercer testified to three other details: That before the 8th and final round, that someone called out that two people were down in the back of the tent (which I knew happened). And that after the ceremony, with so much confusion in what one witness described as “a war zone,” that James Ray took a seat on a chair in the shade and simply observed. After about 15 minutes of this chaos, Mercer said, she stuck her head in the lodge “because something told her to” – and she saw three people passed out inside, including Kirby Brown.

Those three pieces of testimony hit me so hard. James Ray knew Kirby Brown needed help. From the moment he knew, for the next 30 minutes, he did nothing to make sure she received any help (or anyone else; the people he now calls “his friends.”)

What kind of person does that?

There were some truly great people at this event. The list of people I owe a “thank you” to for trying to save my cousin, grows with almost every witness’s testimony. So knowing there was so much chaos happening after this ceremony tells me that truly good people were too distracted to take a look in the sweat lodge to make sure everyone was out.

And one man sat in the shade.

That idea made me cry.

I sat on my couch, listening to Debbie’s testimony, my head in my hands, quivering  lips, tears running down my face.

My beautiful, knowing, loving  girlfriend Rachel (who has watched so much of this trial with me), noticed and simply came over to me and held me. No words were exchanged. Just love and warmth.

I thought briefly how much Kirby would have loved Rachel and cried a bit harder knowing that could never happen.

But mostly I cried because three people lay motionless in a tent; one man sat in a chair.

What kind of person does that?

I love baseball, as I mentioned a few days ago, because it is played most every night for six months. Following your favorite team from April through September is like a really great reality series – there are subplots, emerging stars, unexpected developments, injuries, rookies, trades and so many other factors that go into the season-long success for failure of a team

Some nights, though, it’s flat out boring.

In the four-month event that is the James Ray trial, some days are starting to get boring.

Actually, I should correct myself. Late yesterday, for the last 90 minutes or so, I stepped away. Rachel’s son had a school dance. As has become the custom for these 90-minute dances, I dropped him off, and killed time by having a couple of beers and, last night at least, watching the NCAA basketball tournament.

I had tried to pause the testimony in the case. For whatever reason, I could not go back to see Scott Barratt’s first 90 minutes on the stand. He was a name I was not overly familiar with, surely not a vital state’s witness. Between pausing the computer feed, my Twitter friends (with their #jamesray tweets and updates), some news stories and Facebook postings, I would get the essence of what I missed.

So when it came time today for Mr. Barratt to continue on the stand, I was into it less than almost every other witness so far.

He was important for the state in that he is a former military pilot, an impressive figure standing 6’5” and in very good shape for his 62 years of age. Earlier in life he was even a cowboy. (How cool – how often do you meet a real-life cowboy!) He was another likable figure to present a jury while the defense continues to utter words like “cultish” to describe the conventional wisdom about their client’s fans and events.

Mr. Barratt was often very funny, didn’t appear to have taken a “side” in the case, and was a good foil to defense attorney Tom Kelly, who handled the cross examination. He provided testimony that James Ray knew a larger woman was presumably passed out behind Mr. Barratt, that he thought the sweat lodge participants had been “hypnotized” during the week to participate in dangerous activities and to suspend their normal common sense.

Those types of statements need to come from almost all participant witnesses for the state now; it will be the essence of prosecutors’ arguments at the close of trial – combined with that idea the Mr. Ray knew there was trouble, and a reasonable risk of serious injury or death.

I only write about the statements I did see, either in highlights or on TV/computer today. I do not want to characterize his overall testimony.

But it’s Friday, and this is a tiring trial. And it was just a bit hard for me to get into today.

So when I hear the defense ask each witness if this waiver looks familiar, and if they put one foot in front of the other to walk into the lodge, and whether they exercised free will and choice to participate, my eyes glaze over or I check my e-mail.

I wonder what the 17 remaining jurors (5 will be picked as alternates) must be feeling. At least when the lawyers argue or they are in recess, I can make lunch or pay a bill or run to the store. They are stuck in probably a small non-descript jury room.

So I hope that the overall impression of a credible witness trumps the repetitive, often important, testimony that they may not be focused upon.

I mean even Derek Jeter takes a night off once in a while, right?

I’m a terrible golfer.

I know this. When I swing I have no idea where the ball is going, though I can reasonably assume it won’t go backwards, at least.  I’m more likely to chip a coffee mug than a golf ball into the hole. And, when on the putting green, I posses about as much touch as, say, Godzilla.

But I love to play. (If you define love as frequent pouting, throwing clubs and drinking enough beer during the round to eventually not care). So I’m very familiar with the term “mulligan.”

For non-golfers, a mulligan is essentially a do-over. When I hit a ball into the water, or the woods, or fail to reach the women’s tee – a got 1 or 2 chances a round to put down another ball and take my “mulligan”

Fellow Irishman Tom Kelly, the defense attorney for James Ray, seemed to take a mulligan today. After a round of questioning that he equated to “our fight” with prosecution witness Melinda Martin yesterday afternoon, he returned today in quite a different temperament.

His opening question to her was along the lines of “Would you agree that this jury is entitled to the truth without exaggeration, Miss Martin?”

Her claims to police and media in the days and weeks following the sweat lodge deaths that the scene was like a MASH unit and an EMT worker said it looked like a mass suicide (similar terms to participants descriptions by the way) served as exaggerations on her part. (Interestingly, with male witnesses, Ray’s attorneys tend to use sports analogies; with female witnesses, testimony is often guided or exaggerated by “emotion”)

Martin, Ray’s event coordinator (though her boss Megan Fredrickson served that role for the Spiritual Warrior event), hung tough. She thought carefully about her responses, at one point firing back “Now that’s an exaggeration on your part.”

Kelly also used her testimony to draw a legally-sketchy flowchart of the James Ray International Corporate structure. The new and improved, much friendlier Tom Kelly today, asked Melinda to walk him through various JRI employees to create a new (and surely more legal) flowchart.

Kelly’s questions were much less combative, he mentioned exaggeration only a couple of times almost matter-of-factly. As a result, Ms. Martin’s answers were more gentile and not as far-reaching. She never backed off those MASH/mass suicide statements, which I trust the state will revisit.

On a side note, Kelly’s numerous questions about the TV interviews Martin conducted may provide prosecutor Sheila Polk room to revisit them and their contents, either on redirect or perhaps as evidence. As Mr. Kelly knows, Ms. Martin mentioned the July death of Colleen Conaway during one of those interviews, including how the incident was kept from participants and herself.

James Shore and Lou Caci were among those who attended the event at which Conaway perished, and at which JRI employees lied about it.

If that evidence gets in, Mr. Kelly will not get a mulligan. He might have to put on the scuba gear to retrieve his “golf ball.” But it’s his client he would have sunk.

I am a fan of the New York Mets (one of my many faults, I know). Have been since age 4.

One of my favorite players, just a few years back, was a pitcher named Steve Trachsel. He worked very deliberately – yes, slowly – on the mound. People called him “the human rain delay” and said watching him pitch was like watching paint dry.

But I liked him because his deliberate nature allowed me to think about his next pitch as he did. Even when I saw him pitch in person several times, I could follow his thought process: Whether is was disrupting a batter’s timing, throwing inside or outside/up in the strike zone or down, when to throw to first, or which pitch to select in a certain count.

He wasn’t the best pitcher in the world, but to me, his approach was clear and I understood his strategies more often than not. But, I do admit, he was a nightmare for other people to watch.

I thought of him today watching the James Ray triple manslaughter trial. Today’s witness, Melinda Martin, is a former James Ray employee who was both at the Spiritual Warrior retreat and has spoken to the news media about the tragedy. Her testimony will not surprise the defense too much.

The defense attorney who will cross examine her is Tom Kelly. He is the man who has complained about the speed of the trial, complaining “I’m a busy man” who seemingly cannot afford a trial longer than anticipated. Every day he has objections and concerns, many relating to the 6^th Amendment (essentially the right to a speedy trial).

But he has objected dozens of times to the state’s questions to Ms. Martin. Form of the question. Leading questions. Lack of foundation. It seems as if he’s objected to about 50 percent of Sheila Polk’s questions (and winning many objections by the way).

Obviously, her testimony stands to be among the most damning for James Ray; she was employed for only a few months; had never been to Spiritual Warrior or one of Mr. Ray’s sweat lodges; spent a lot of time helping others and being shocked at the conditions people were in, only to be told it was “normal” and to assume a sunnier disposition about the whole experience.

So Mr. Kelly’s repeated objections are serving to: keep out damaging testimony, to throw the prosecutors off their game; and to play both sides of the same coin by working slowly while also complaining things are not moving quickly enough.

Aside from possibly frustrating a jury that is surely eager to move along, Kelly’s legal strategy is fairly sound. And, truthfully, many of Ms. Polk’s questions are inadmissible, perhaps her attempt to get the jury to hear things that they won’t forget, even if she needs to rephrase the question.

These are among the legal maneuvers designed to convict, or acquit, a defendant. It’s all part of the game. While Kelly’s stall tactics annoy me, I’m thinking maybe I young lawyer is watching him like I once watched Steve Trachsel.

When I media train my clients, I try to tell them that about three quarters of what people remember is what they see, not what you say.

Do you have a stain on your tie? Are you friendly? Do you look uncomfortable talking about certain subjects. Do you think people will like you.

As I watch this trial unfold – both in and out of the courtroom – I’m paying very close attention to what I see; clues, if you will, that a good jury member might remember. The way defense lawyers and James Ray shift uncomfortably during strong testimony from the state. The facial expressions of a witness. Even the demeanor of the judge during objections.

The way we communicate non-verbally is so important and, although it cannot be evidence in a criminal trial, what we say without ever speaking is probably as important as what we do say with our mouths.

So I’m frustrated that this current witness, Laurie Gennari, has chosen not to be on camera – a wish Judge Darrow has granted. Though I am entertained when James Ray’s ears get red when he’s seemingly uncomfortable, I find myself missing out on the gesticulations of Ms. Gennari.

That is not to say she isn’t entertaining. When defense attorney Luis Li went through his now routine litany of “nobody forced you to do x,y,z” questions, he asked: “Nobody tells you what to wear?” she replied with “You haven’t met my mother.”

When Li asked “James Ray didn’t force you to sign up?” Gennari replied with “There’s a complicated question.”

Shifting subjects once, he said “Now let’s talk about the vision quest.” Gennari: “Now let’s.”

Tone aside, being unable to see Gennari makes her less of a “character” in this story. Of course, the jury CAN see her, and I trust her tone matches her expressions. It was clear to any viewer that Lou Caci was frustrated, embarrassed that he was injured and then didn’t help anyone in the sweat lodge, and was disappointed and angry at the man who called him friend for 20 years. If you watched his testimony with your TV or computer muted, you would know that.

The defense, knowing Gennari was landing body blows on their client, brought up a lawsuit she filed last year against Ray’s company. That sparked nearly an hour of court debate, and an extended lunch break while the judge reviewed applicable case law (his body language was none too pleased to have to do so by the way).

Obviously the lawsuit could influence the jury as to whether Gennari is biased or not; her words make it clear that she has abandoned the teachings of Mr. Ray since spiritual warrior.

But I find myself yearning for more clues. After all it’s mostly what you see, not what you say.

The legal system, as we know, is not perfect. And neither are the lawyers who work in that system.

I try to remind myself of that fact every day while I watch the James Ray manslaughter trial. When  I saw Dr. Jeanne Armstrong’s name on the state’s witness lists, I furrowed my brow. I have read the transcripts of her two police interviews. I knew that she personally attended 10 James Ray events; I knew she claims to have heard almost no chatter in the tent that people needed assistance (as a half dozen witnesses have already testified). I knew she claims she had no idea anything was wrong until she stepped out of the sweat lodge to see what Lou Caci described as “a battleground.” (She of course didn’t paint such a picture. Shocking I know.)

Because she’s a state witness, the prosecution has the right to ask her questions (redirect) after the defense attorneys complete their cross examination. Prosecutor Bill Hughes seems like a nice man. He’s a bit soft-spoken, polite, and unassuming. I can picture him as an usher in his church. But I thought he missed many opportunities. Among the testimony he could have jumped on, but did not:

• Dr. Armstrong did not think Lou burning his arm was severe enough to check on him or stop the ceremony;
• Her roommate, a woman named Amy, was carried out of the tent because she “passed out” (some of the words Dr. Armstrong DID hear). Dr. Armstrong assumed because Amy was “petite” that her injuries didn’t warrant checking up on (during or after the sweat lodge)
• Dr. Armstrong attended 10 events, and five days of Spiritual Warrior, but hardly knew anyone’s name, including the last names of her roommates;
• She claimed to be upset by the impression in the media that Ray was a cultist or running a cult (a word hardy reported in any mainstream media, because I personally monitored all stories and was in touch with many reporters) yet claimed not to know Beverley Bunn’s last name. Beverley was the first victim of the event to go on the record and was on each morning show, the front page of the New York Times, 20/20 and Dateline;
• Dr. Armstrong thought the 2-hour ceremony was about 30 minutes long; but correctly knew ambulances didn’t arrive for about 25-30 minutes after she began CPR on James Shore and Kirby Brown;
• She claimed it took her 1-2 minutes to exit the lodge, even though she traveled further than Dr. Bunn, who testified she took up to 10 minutes to exit because she was helping lift a heavy woman out of the tent;
• Dr. Armstrong testified that one of symptoms of heat exhaustion, which comes before heat stroke on a “continuum” is impairment, but was not asked if she or others suffered from impaired judgment
• She testified she tuned “the entire thing” out (rounds 3 to 7 at least) but nobody asked if she was sleeping, was passed out or possibly had impaired judgment herself.

This is Mr. Hughes’s profession, and there are many things he’s surely thought of about this case that never crossed my mind. If he told me I wasn’t mourning properly or I wasn’t being a good public relations practitioner, (as one journalist told me weeks after my cousin died) I might take exception. I do think the state is carefully laying groundwork, leading up to medical experts. And, truthfully, the jury can choose to mostly ignore her testimony because it conflicts with so many others’.

But from my couch, I saw a lot of wasted opportunity with Dr. Armstrong. I personally wouldn’t have called her to the stand, but I assume the state had a purpose. Her testimony following directly after that of Lou Caci, a 20-year friend of Mr. Ray’s probably eliminated some points the state had just earned.

And, let’s face it, it’s early in the case. One witness in a four-month trial is probably not as important as it seems in real time. But today it feels like a lost opportunity.

I have a very close friend I’ve known for about 25 years, since I was 14 years old. Let’s call him Bean, since that’s what I call him.

I’m his daughter’s godfather. He was in my wedding. He is my go-to. If I need anything, he’s the first friend I think of. We’ve been through a lot together. We needle each other and, because we are basically brothers, we do ruffle each other’s feathers. His family is my family and vice versa.

If we horse around in his pool, or he knocks me out with his remote while playing Wii swordfighting too aggressively, or anything ever happened to me, I know Bean would have my back. Without blame or fault, he would make sure I got the care I needed and, if necessary, ask the questions I failed to ask.

I couldn’t help think of Bean today while watching the James Ray trial. This morning’s witness – carried over from yesterday – was Lou Caci. Caci was a personal friend of Ray’s for almost 20 years. Ray was in his wedding party; Caci attended more than a half-dozen of Ray’s events over the years. They had gone drinking before doing “men stuff” according to Luis LI, Ray’s attorney.

Caci has been limited to answering very specific questions. When Li peppered him with questions about who constructed the sweat lodge at the center of three deaths in this case, Caci wanted to explain his answer, but Li cut him off. Repeatedly, Li said it would “work better” if Caci just answered his questions, and nothing more.

Caci talks about the lessons he’s learned from Ray, even calling him a “good man.” Many of these lessons have to do with life’s struggles, being a better man, and accepting your responsibility for your actions.

But instead, in this courtroom, he’s limited mostly to “yes/no” answers and what he thinks of his friend, and his friend’s actions, and the lack of responsibility his friend showed in a horrific situation – in which Caci himself burned his arm in three spots and needed hospitalization.

Ray never asked him about his arm, during or after the sweat lodge. Ray never sent a single representative of his organization to the hospital, to check on Caci or the 17 others transported by ambulance or helicopter to nearby medical facilities. Ray never acted like a friend would.

Ray didn’t act like Bean would have.

This, of course, has almost nothing to do with the legal case at hand. However, when a true friend acts in a way you wouldn’t expect, the natural question is “Why?”  I wonder if the jury will ponder this “human question” outside of the legal questions involved.

While the legal minds debate the litigious questions on the air, as a lay person I wonder about these other questions: friendship, responsibility, impeccability, and being a good man. If the members of the jury – individually or collectively – ponder those concepts, James Ray might be in deeper legal trouble than his lawyers might know.

(It should be noted that at the end of the defense cross-examination of Caci, as they were asking if Caci knew Liz Neuman was dying and if he would have helped her if he knew she was dying, James Ray broke down in tears. This is a man who can cry on cue; but maybe, just maybe, he thought about either his friendship and his responsibility. I don’t really care; I just hope it hurt him with the jury.)