Witnessing a Murder Trial

I was anxious before the trial. I was excited to witness history, but nervous I’d drop my pencil and cause some sort of disturbance. People were leaving with a variety of expressions as we approached the court which had just adjourned for lunch. Some seemed deep in thought, others talked on cell phones or huddled with colleagues, a few left jovially, but the person that struck me the most was an older lady, slightly hunched over with long braids and glasses, leaving with a look of extreme grief and pain as a younger woman guided her by the elbow. When I initially walked into the courtroom, the first thing that struck me was the small size. It was no bigger than a couple of classrooms and yet on television it seems so large. It was almost empty as we entered except for the pool photographer eating a banana and Susan Candiotti, family friend, former CNN journalist, and investigative reporter, in a bright red sweater. She greeted us with hugs and smiles before immediately diving in with rapid fire information on what we missed.
Aaron Hernandez, former Patriots player, was indicted on murder charges, armed assault, and attempted murder in the 2012 Boston double homicide. On the night of July 16, 2012, Daniel Jorge Correia de Abreu, 29, and Safiro Teixeira Furtado, 28, were killed from gunshots fired into their vehicle, while driving home to Dorchester from a nightclub called Cure. Hernandez has already been convicted in another case of murdering Odin Lloyd and was sentenced to life in prison without parole. According to witnesses in this case, Hernandez and de Abreu exchanged quick words while at Cure, but there was no apparent confrontation. Hernandez’s lawyers are attempting to pin the blame on the driver of the car he was in and Hernandez has pleaded not guilty.
When we sat down at a nearby restaurant Susan, professional that she is, leaned over to the woman seated next to us to check if she was involved in the trial before safely proceeding to further discuss the events of that day. After quickly eating and paying, we headed back to the courtroom. We reentered just as everyone was rising for the judge. As soon as the doors opened I was taken aback. Aaron Hernandez made eye contact with me as he subtly leaned back to see who was entering the courtroom. The split second moment caught me off guard, seeing this infamous person, and being within spitball distance of him was unsettling. We sat in the press section while the public benches were crammed with people. Something I found intensely surprising was the flow of people during the proceedings. They walked in and out of the tall wooden doors throughout the entire day, the doors always closing with a thud. I thought I might get bored with the courtroom jargon and hours of sitting, but I remained enthralled throughout the day. Witnesses were called to the stand and questioned by both the prosecutors and the defense team; the jury sat taking notes as the witnesses described their short run-ins with different people involved in the case. The prosecutor seemed emotionless as he questioned the witnesses while the first member of the defense team I saw was more laid back and smiled. Susan later told me that the actions of the lawyers, how they treated the witnesses, could also factor into the jury’s decision. By the end of the day, I was still ready for more, and I saw a woman who went to the club the night of the murder and two bouncers testify. They brought no game changing revelations, yet it was still so interesting to watch as they nervously told their accounts of the fateful night.
The most surprising part of the whole trial, the aspect of court I found most shocking, was undoubtedly Hernandez’s demeanour change as soon as the judge and jury left. During the proceedings he sat emotionless, chewing gum, and occasionally exchanging a few words with his lawyers. When the camera was turned away and he no longer had to put on a somber facade, he smiled, laughed even, hugged his lawyers and showed absolutely no remorse. What’s worse is that he acted this way in front of the victims’ families. De Abreu’s widow has gone to the trial every single day. She has sat and watched Hernandez in his navy suit, white shirt, and blue tie with a tattoo just peaking out from under his right ear, lounging right in front of her, making jokes and having casual conversations. I was disgusted by his behaviour, and as I sat staring at his neck rolls, I realized that it takes a special kind of person to be a defense lawyer, especially when defending a man already once convicted of murder. As I’m watching him leave, I thought back to a video I had seen earlier that day. On one of the tapes a lawyer was reviewing from the night of the crime, de Abreu dropped his identification card. That moment that was rewound and replayed throughout the day stuck with me. This man bending over to retrieve his identification would soon die and in his final hours, he dropped his card. Witnessing a murder trial is most definitely fascinating, but one must keep in mind that it is not some abstract story, these events did happen, there are real people suffering, and real lives were lost.  
This article was previously
published in The Metacomet.