A trip to Chelsea and the Testimony of Chris Burnett

By the second week of the trial, the jurors had started getting into a routine. We had all had some sleepless nights. The ice was broken now, and even though we could not discuss any aspect of the case with each other, we were starting to find out the things we had in common.

The jury was made up of a diverse group of people. A carpenter, a masseuse, a teacher, a vice principal, a chambermaid, a nutritionist, an unemployed accountant, a stay at home mom… people from different backgrounds who all lived in the same city, and who all had been put on the hook to bring closure to the case.

The second week start with the testimony of Chris Burnett. Chris lived in at 156 Chester Ave. #2 at the time of the murder, and he had been in the kitchen at the time of the killing. Chris was a middle aged black man who looked sick and tired. For much of his life, Chris had been on dialysis for his failing kidneys.

At one time Chris had worked construction, but his failing health and life choices had brought him to a point where he spent much of the 90s and 2000s selling drugs, going to jail and at times living in his car.

The story Chris told to the prosecution was that he had gone to dialysis on April 29, 2008 in the morning and come home and fallen asleep. He was awoken by loud noises and ran in to find the boys kicking down the door. His story matched up with Jeanine’s to an unsettling level of specificity. Despite this he claimed that he was not friends with Jeanine.

On cross examination, he told the same story. It was on re-cross however that the prosecution pointed out that despite his claim if not being close with Jeanine, it was Jeanine’s new address that appeared on his drivers license.

The testimony took up most of a day and a half. After Christ finished, we were scheduled to go on a view. The jury and all attorneys, as well as the judge, were herded onto a coach bus, and with a 5 vehicle police escort taken to 156 Chester Ave. #2. As we went down the highway, on and off ramps were closed. Every intersection was blocked off. Through neighborhoods people lined up along the road sides to stare.

The rules of a view are simple. The attorneys may “direct attention” to certain aspects of the alleged crime scene; BUT UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES may they imply the significance of anything.

The apartment had changed a lot since the time of the killing. For days we had been looking at crime scene photos depicting a sad place, made only somewhat sadder by the presence of blood splatter and broken furniture. Now it was a happy place. The walls had been painted pink in many rooms, and their were paintings on all of the walls. In the living room, which had been a lightless den, a toddler played shyly as 20 invaders wandered around her home.

It was hard to fathom that a place that had seen so much anger and violence could be transformed. With a coat of paint, and a loving family 156 Chester Ave. #2 had become a new place.

Jury Selection

Jury Duty has been a really remarkable experience for me that may prove to be quite formative. I had very low expectations going in, and instead ended up facing a challenge that was singularly unique in my life so far. With this in mind I have decided to record the day to day impressions and occurrences through out the process; with all trial proceedings published at the trials conclusion.

Monday, April 26^th

In January I found out that I had been called for Jury Duty. I didn’t really think much of it, and I assumed that I would have to spend a day in and out of waiting rooms getting work done until finally being rejected and sent home. So when the day finally came around I took the much touted 501 express bus from down the street to Boston in a paltry 20 minutes for the first time and arrived at the court house at 8AM sharp.

The building reminded me of the evil tower in Ghostbusters, in that it was strangely ornate and threatening despite just being an old gray building. I went through what reminded me of a airport security in 1990 (kind of a half assed effort) where I went through a rudimentary metal detector and asked politely if I was carrying any weapons.

I proceeded into wood paneled elevators to the second floor Jury Pool room. The Jury Pool room is exactly how I imagine purgatory to be. It was filled with approximately 200 distressed looking people who had no interest in talking to each other. About 20 people had brought lap tops, and there was precisely one power jack that worked. There was wireless internet which connected long enough to bring up the header of web pages before disappearing. People were not permitted to leave. It was like being in an airport with out the benefits of hot food, a bar, TVs, a place to smoke or any scheduled flights.

Starting at 10am Court officers began calling groups of jurors to be whisked away via a secret elevator for Jury Selection. Eventually, my number was called, and I was taken into a court room with 70 other jurors. In the courtroom were also present the prosecution, the judge, the defense and the accused. The judge gave a brief description of the case and then asked a series of questions to weed out ineligible jurors. Then we were again whisked away to another room to wait.

One at a time jurors were called to sit in the witness stand and be questioned. In Massachusetts, only the judge may ask questions of the juror. Based on the answers given the prosecution and defense counsels accept or reject you. Most of the questions I was asked surrounded the pronunciation of my first name, as well as verification that I was employed and that I had no criminal record.

Shortly after leaving the room, I was told that I had been accepted as a juror.