If God Sat on the Jury

By Estelle Darrow

News-breaking trial verdicts capture our attention! Would the nonfit of the glove in the O. J. Simpson case be enough to acquit? Were Laci's torso and Conner's body proof of Scott Peterson's guilt? Do we really want to hear the final verdict, or is it the truth that we seek? John Edgewood has a new job and a new start in life. He is working as a mechanic at the City Yard in San Francisco, California. He is a quiet man who keeps to himself, responsible at his job. He lives a simple life in the Tenderloin. This is a refreshing change for John. The previous year, he had been incarcerated in state prison. His bad choices started when he was a teenager, taking his cue to drink from a drunk mother. One too many times, he ended up in a courtroom, facing a judge. Now that John's life is on track, he faces an accusation that will change his life forever: John Edgewood is accused of murder-a crime that both he and the reader know that he didn't commit. As the readers journey through the trial process alongside John, we get to know the attorneys for both the prosecution and the defense, the judge, and each member selected for the jury. Will the truth prevail, or will it be simply about obtaining a victory? What if one member of the jury was God Himself? Would that change the outcome for John? Courtroom 211J is where John's fate will be decided. What will it be and why?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781642988703

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If God Sat on the Jury

Estelle Darrow

Copyright © 2018 Estelle Darrow

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64298-869-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64350-568-8 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64298-870-3 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

To my cousin Jerry

Thank you for sharing your love of writing,

joy of teaching, and passion for life with me … I miss you.

I still feel the gift of the little girl who

danced at your bar mitzvah,

the nervous teen who attempted

to serve you dinner without spilling,

reading your poem in Kahlil Gibran’s book,

a gift for my sixteenth birthday,

the joy in my heart accelerating when you

walked through the door of my hospital room …

the teacher whom I aspired to be.

God sent us His Son, Jesus, as an eternal gift. First, we had to live under the law, so that Jesus could show us that the law will not set us free. We need His love for that. Hence, the only true law became one of loving one another, as Jesus loves us.

In the courtroom, it usually becomes a race for victory. The truth, if discovered, often becomes ignored. Yet, what if one of the jury members was Jesus Himself, but disguised? How would others be affected? What about the fate of the accused? How would the truth be shown? Would knowing the truth affect the outcome of the trial? If so, how? Can the fate of the accused be altered?

From the private lives of each of the trial’s players, through the courtroom competition, and into the aftermath of the trial, many people are about to find out.

Chapter 1

Before the Gathering

Another day of work, John thought as he reached out to open his locker. He had been a mechanic at the City’s bus yard just long enough to have gotten into a pretty comfortable routine: wake up at six in the morning to the sound of his wind-up alarm clock; grab a quick shower; make a couple cups of coffee in the aluminum percolator he had bought at the local thrift store using funds from his first paycheck; head out the door, walk a few blocks through the Tenderloin, and catch the F-line and take it down Market Street to First Street. From there, it was just a few blocks’ walk to the bus yard.

Hmm. He was puzzled. Someone left me a note.

We regret to inform you that, due to the City’s budget being cut back, the San Francisco City Mechanics’ Division now has a Reduction in Force, and no longer requires your services as a mechanic. This notice is effective thirty days from the date of issue. We thank you for your services.

John’s eyes went over and over the words, focusing on, no longer requires your services. After the salmon-colored paper had served its purpose, John stuffed it back into his locker and went to start work on the first bus that needed his attention. He went through his day without saying much to anybody. He didn’t want to ask if anyone else had received what he had.

*****

The end of his workday eventually arrived. He grabbed the letter from his locker. He didn’t even hear the clang of the yard gate shutting behind him. His eyes downward, his spirit filled with disappointment, he began his walk heading home. Still dazed by the news, John walked toward the Embarcadero instead of heading down First Street. The bay and the Bay Bridge caught his eye. He automatically turned left on Embarcadero. I finally found a job … why now? How will I be able to keep my apartment without a job? How can I even look for another job if I’m still going to this job for another month? When he got to Market Street, John turned left. As his right hand circled the inner lining of his pocket, he gathered up loose change. Twenty … fifty … eighty … a dollar … two more quarters … just enough to ride the F-line … I’m too tired to walk all the way home today.

With the F-line stop in sight, bright lights caught John’s eye. The commotion seemed to be right near Bellarosa’s Italian Restaurant. As he got closer, he counted three police cars, an ambulance, and a growing crowd. His eyes were fixed on the scene. A police officer was now stringing yellow tape around the area, while another officer attempted to disperse the crowd. Soon, traffic slowed to a stop. All sounds faded away. John just froze in place as he stared. A black body bag was being carried into the restaurant.

John stayed out of the way. He wanted to find out what happened. So he moved closer and just listened.

Hey, Sammy! Has anyone called the coroner out yet?

No, Sarge. We were just about to make the call.

Fredricks! Sergeant Salas bellowed. "Make sure the guys dust thoroughly for prints very thoroughly."

Will do, Sergeant, Detective Fredricks responded obediently.

Salas reached inside of his jacket and retrieved his notepad. He quickly jotted something down, looked around, and then added to what he had written.

The squeaky sound of the wheels on the F-line trolley jarred John’s attention back to where he stood waiting. He looked ahead one last time.

Sergeant Salas seemed to be whispering something into another police officer’s ear. That officer nodded and walked away. Sergeant Salas did one last quick glance around, got into his police car, and drove away. John walked back to his stop when he saw the approaching trolley. He stepped up onto the F-line trolley, dropped his change into the glass receptacle, and sat down in one of the few remaining seats. Soon this trolley would be filled to sardine capacity, with many just like himself, heading home after a relentless work day, and tourists who were exploring the City.

John knew that with the trolley this crowded, it would be a while before he reached his destination. He drifted off in thought, recalling his recent past.

The noises … will they ever stop? Guards were constantly yelling. Inmates were competing with one another for the top spot, the loudest voice, the biggest, most aggressive bully. If only I hadn’t chosen to get behind that wheel. I should’ve just called a cab to get me home or called a buddy to help me out.

Mr. Edgewood … Mr. Edgewood … The judge was attempting to get John’s attention.

Yes, Sir? John responded.

Mr. Edgewood, before I pronounce sentence, do you have any final words for this court?

"Definitely, Your Honor. First of all, I am very, very sorry. I had been warned twice before. I knew better. I never should have gotten behind that wheel. I sincerely regret that decision. I sure did make the wrong choice."

"Yes, Mr. Edgewood, you most definitely did make the wrong choice. You made a choice that brought you before this court today. And because it was the third wrong choice that you’ve made regarding drinking and driving, I have no other choice but to suspend your driver’s license for a period of one year, fine you one thousand dollars, and sentence you to one year in state prison. This is now on your record as a felony, Mr. Edgewood, because your poor choice of drinking and driving injured the person in the car that you hit."

I am deeply sorry, Your Honor … deeply sorry.

Well, Mr. Edgewood, I do believe that you are remorseful. Because you are taking responsibility for your actions, I am going to add a stipulation to your sentence.

Yes, Your Honor?

"If you attend AA meetings while you are incarcerated, and you continue to regularly attend meetings once you are released, I will allow you to perform community service to work off your one thousand dollar fine, and I will reduce your sentence to six months."

Thank you very much, Your Honor.

"However, if I receive notice of you being involved in any infraction, I will make sure that you serve the remainder of your sentence. Do you understand, Mr. Edgewood?"

Yes, Your Honor. I understand. Tears welled in John’s eyes as he heard the final proclamation of the judge’s gavel.

Remembering that pounding sound, John rejoined those on the trolley. His stop was next: the Tenderloin.

One other passenger joined John in exiting the trolley. They went in different directions at the corner, and John began his walk home. His mind wandered back in time once again.

Hi. I’m John. I’m an alcoholic

Hi, John.

John couldn’t look up at all. He just started to tell his story to the roomful of inmates who were there for the same purpose. I took my first drink when I was eight years old. I can remember seeing my mom flaked out on the couch when I got home from school. No matter how many times I was hoping to come home to the inviting smell of homemade chocolate chip cookies, it never worked out that way. When I opened the front door, all I got hit with was the reeking smell of alcohol … oh yes, and occasional vomit. One day, I just decided to join her. Basically, I was curious what the substance tasted like that lured her away from taking care of her child. It was only a sip at first. Each day after that, the sips became longer and tastier. I soon became hooked. I started sneaking alcohol to school in small containers … whatever I could find around the house. I didn’t have many friends at school. I was usually pretty much isolated at recess and lunch. Eventually, I had a new best friend—alcohol and I became best buds! Once I got into high school, I gravitated toward other kids who liked to drink like I did. Most of my classes in school didn’t interest me. There was one class, though, that I loved: auto shop. I failed at everything else, but fixing cars and other mechanical things was the one thing that I was actually good at. I finally found something that I could do!!

The more that I was successful at it, the less I seemed to drink. Once I was old enough to drive, I was usually sober when I got behind the wheel. There were some exceptions, though. My buddy and I were at a house party. I gave in and had a few beers. And I drove us home. On the way, I got pulled over and was arrested for drinking and driving. Sadly, I didn’t learn my lesson. It took two more times like this, and the last one was the worst. The end result was that the last time got me in here, because not only did I drink and drive … I … uh … ran into another car and injured the driver.

John looked up for the very first time.

Nodding back at him were several men who related to his experience.

Yeah, man … me too.

Know what ya mean, brother. Know what ya mean.

*****

John wasn’t sure how he got there, but right in front of where he was standing was his tenement. He took a breath, walked through the doorway, and climbed the two flights of stairs to his apartment. He lived a pretty quiet life. His main source of social interactions was at work and occasional visits with his sponsor. Drinking no longer interested him.

*****

The following day, John continued his regular routine. He decided to just finish out the week at work as usual, pray about it, and see what plan he would be guided toward. He heard his supervisor’s voice summoning him.

Hey, John!

Yes, Mr. Valducci? John responded.

We’ve got a police vehicle we need you to take a look at. It was brought in a couple of hours ago.

Sure! Any clues as to what’s wrong with it?

All I know is that the problem seems to be in the rear of the car. Take it for a test drive and see what you notice, then get to work on it.

Got it, Mr. Valducci!

The first thing that John did was check over the car in general. John then drove the car for several blocks.