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Bare Trees in Fog

To Tell The Truth

Writer's picture: Marie LaureMarie Laure

This unprecedented week in American history when a former US President became a witness in his own defense in a New York City* court room ought to mark a significant moment of telling “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” because as we all know, those are the words sworn to on a bible in a court of law in the USA. There are grave consequences under the law, and presumably from above, for lying under oath. One way to circumvent telling the truth is to plead one's right to the fifth amendment. This is what all citizens understand when stepping into the witness stand. No matter who you are, you know these basic rules.


I have served on a jury in a murder case in Boston. The courtroom had its own aura. The judge spoke directly to those of us empaneled for two weeks: “Do not talk about this case with anyone. Not even your spouse.” He said this at the end of each day. The following morning, he asked: “Have you talked about this case since you were here in the courtroom yesterday? Remember you are instructed not to do so and that you remain under the oath that you swore to the first day.” I assumed he meant it. I took it seriously. I said nothing about the facts, the witnesses, or, the day the jury and the judge and the prosecutors were taken by bus in silence to the scene of the crime by police escort, stopping all traffic on busy downtown streets, so that we could get out to examine the evidence. As the weeks moved on, photos were shown of the getaway car abandoned in front of the church I attended and where the bloodied knife had been dropped, allegedly, into the sewage drain. I said nothing to anyone about the way that I felt, and the nightmares that I had during this time.


The truth was supposed to emerge through all this in such a way that justice would prevail. Truth seemed a bit slippery on days when a street person took the stand to say he/she was an eyewitness. Truth seemed more believable when a college student said in his own words how he saw it happen on his way to an early shift at work. The murder happened at 8 a.m. on a Sunday. I also went to work early because I was a church youth group leader. One of the perks of the job was not having to commute during the weekday rush hour. It seemed pleasant to walk or take the train without very many others, except the homeless ones who were emerging from some shelter for another day on the city streets. I could never have imagined only blocks away that someone might be, and was, in fact, murdered.


In the end, the jury did not reach unanimity. The judge came to talk to us, still wearing his black robe. “I know it is hard for a jury after you have spent the time to hear all the facts and sit together day after day to be left without resolution. It is not the end for this defendant, there will be another trial. You have done your civic duty. The court thanks you.” The words soothed the disappointment and emboldened a bit of pride for having tried to do the right thing. We all went our separate ways and never saw one another again. I still remember the one hold-out and how angry other jurors felt and how upset she was by their pressure to join them. “What would you do?” She asked me in the bathroom. “We are not supposed to talk about this,” I said, while empathizing with her tears. That was the Truth . . . We were not supposed to talk about it. Period.


What happened? Did the truth fail? Did someone not tell the truth? Is the system corrupt? Is the system another construct that should be dismantled? Is the system the problem? In my own estimation, emotions ran high for some and that helped to shape the outcome. Juries are after all, just you and me. Lady Justice herself is blind. We try to be impartial, but we cannot be immune to emotional outbursts of tears and anger or shame and regret. When emotions take over a courtroom, when the rules to tell the truth, and to not speak about the events during the trial are disregarded, our system of justice, "innocent until proven guilty," breaks down. The system itself goes on trial. Like it or not, the judicial system is a backbone of Democracy. It is the place of accountability for one’s own actions and decisions. It is the one place where Truth is meant to be spelled with a capital “T” even if your last name begins with a capital “T”!


Everyone of us is equal under the law, and should be treated equally. Special rules, or exemptions and exceptions weaken the system for us all. Whether or not the accused former President will be held accountable to the state of New York, and to all of the other states, we may in the end hear the judge say: “It’s not over for this defendant, there will be another trial.”


*For over two centuries, courthouses throughout New York have been adorned with portrayals of Lady Justice. The sculptures, carvings and murals, many by renowned artists, are our constant reminder that, in the words of George Washington: the due administration

of justice is the firmest pillar of good Government.




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© 2023 by Marie Laure

​Six Stages of Pilgrimage:

  • The Call:

  • The opening clarion of any spiritual journey. Often in the form of a feeling or some vague yearning, a fundamental human desire: finding meaning in an overscheduled world somehow requires leaving behind our daily obligations. Sameness is the enemy of spirituality.

  • The Separation:

  • Pilgrimage, by its very nature, undoes certainty. It rejects the safe and familiar. It asserts that one is freer when one frees oneself from daily obligations of family, work, and community, but also the obligations of science, reason, and technology.

  • The Journey:

  • The backbone of a sacred journey is the pain and sacrifice of the journey itself.  This personal sacrifice enhances the experience; it also elevates the sense of community one develops along the way.

  • The Contemplation:

  • Some pilgrimages go the direct route, right to the center of the holy of holies, directly to the heart of the matter. Others take a more indirect route, circling around the outside of the sacred place, transforming the physical journey into a spiritual path of contemplation like walking a labyrinth.

  • The Encounter:

  • After all the toil and trouble, after all the sunburn and swelling and blisters, after all the anticipation and expectation comes the approach, the sighting. The encounter is the climax of the journey, the moment when the traveler attempts to slide through a thin veil where humans live in concert with the Creator.

  • The Completion and Return:

  • At the culmination of the journey, the pilgrim returns home only to discover that meaning they sought lies in the familiar of one's own world. "Seeing the place for the first time . . ."

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