Hell is Breaking loose.
Posted by: Ed Chernoff
August 02, 2007

Last week we began our trial in Brownsville. It was supposed to last four weeks, but we ended it in two days! The first day, we lost three jurors because of mid-trial publicity. We lost one more juror the morning of the second day, leaving us with only one alternate. One of the excused jurors sent a note to the Judge, expressing his concern that some of the conversations had by his fellow jurors that morning clearly pointed to a loss of the presumption of innocence. I moved for mistrial, joined by all the other defendants. The Judge agreed, and game over.

Matt and I were ready for the long haul. We had set up camp in the Marriot. In my room was the laptop and combo printer, fax, scanner and copier. In his room was the whiskey, cigars and Diet Coke. Despite the fact that Brownsville has a mall and the nicest people in the world, there really isn't much to do there and we were expecting to gird for battle each night. Our lives had been organized and orchestrated for the next month.

So, the mistrial wasn't much of a relief. The Judge hinted that she might entertain a motion for change of venue to the Houston Division, but who the hell wants to be tried in Houston? Granted, it would be better for me personally. I could sleep in my own bed, with my own girlfriend, every single night. But my client, an alleged drug dealer from the Valley, would be convicted with barely an effort from the Government. Naturally, the Government this week requested a transfer, using the specious argument that Brownsville was incapable of providing the necessary security. We all objected, and the Judge refused, setting the re-trial for August 13.

So back we go to Brownsville, after a two week reprieve. One good thing; the super secret evidence that the Government has so far refused to provide to the defendants have been taken out into the daylight. We now know who their number one snitch is, and have a pretty good idea about number two. Their case was laid out in opening argument, and we have a grand jury transcript from snitch numero uno. It turns out he is doing 210 months on a drug trafficking charge and is more than a little desparate to reduce his time. The government has conditioned a Rule 35 reduction of his prison time on the number of convictions he helps them obtain. He's already prostituted himself in Corpus Christi during his tour. I reckon he'll say anything now, and now we know with whom we are dealing.

On the other hand, there is no joy in coitus interruptus. If the trial had continued, we would be half way through with testimony already and I could begin dreaming of the return of my orderly life. As it stands now, I'm in purgatory, and whether I go to heaven or hell is still very much in  the air.

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