The jurors in the Baltimore murder case were deadlocked, and when they came into the courtroom to be dismissed, their body language showed the prosecutor that something was amiss with juror No. 10.
So Assistant State's Attorney Theresa Shaffer talked to the woman, as attorneys sometimes do after trials. She asked her why she hadn't wanted to convict, what the problem was.
The 23-year-old woman answered that "there wasn't enough evidence." Then she added, "When my brother pled guilty to first-degree murder ... "
Every so often, a person who shouldn't be a juror - such as someone whose relative is a convicted felon or someone whose religious beliefs prevent him or her from passing judgment on others - slips onto the panel.
Juror No. 10's failure to tell the judge about her brother's murder conviction is one of the most outrageous examples of inappropriate jury service that prosecutors and judges can recall.
There are others. One juror said she'd never believe a police officer. One juror vowed, even before testimony began, that he'd make sure the defendant was taken off the streets. And several jurors have listened to entire trials, only to say during deliberations that their religion prevents them from sitting in judgment of others.
Problem jurors are far less common than people looking for ways to avoid jury duty. But they open the door to mistrials and appeals, costing the public time and money.
"There's such a ripple effect," Shaffer said. The trial ended Wednesday, and she plans to retry the case this fall. But she worries that maybe her witnesses won't show up a second time. And a second trial in this case means less time to prepare for others.
The last thing the city's overburdened criminal justice system needs, judges and prosecutors said, are retrials that could have been avoided.
Every criminal jury trial begins with jury selection and a process called "voir dire" - a French term that means "to speak the truth."
When it's time for a criminal trial, as many as 100 prospective jurors make the walk from the jury waiting room on the second floor of the Clarence M. Mitchell Jr. Courthouse to the judge's courtroom.
There, the judge asks them a set of questions. They stand, if they want to respond, and the judge calls each person individually to the bench, where the prosecutor and defense attorney listen in.
