The Jodi Arias case has been going on for longer than most of her relationships have lasted, and people all over the blogosphere are getting damn fed up with it. You can read it on people’s blogs, Tweets, Facebook posts, maybe even their attitudes if you happen to call someone who’s forced by circumstance to watch HLN’s time-stretched version of this fairly tiresome and unprofessionally-conducted trial.
Constant objections, repeated sidebars, meetings in chambers, former Juror Number Five (the Three-Toned Wonder of bad hair), Judge Sherry Stephens admonishing the witness time and time again in the case of Alyce Laviolette, who may have to check into her own clinic if she can even walk off the stand under her own power by the time that day mercifully arrives.
What’s surprises me the most is the unprofessionalism displayed by the prosecutor, in most cases, followed pretty closely by the judge, who looks like she’d rather be getting a pelvic exam than sitting on the bench for this fiasco for another minute.
Prosecutor Juan Martinez has taken this trial so personally, he can barely hold himself back, gritting his teeth, clenching his fists. Most recently he actually hopped on a couple of occasions (as in ‘hopping mad’) and has begun to slap exhibits on the glass surface of the document projector, snatching exhibits from the domestic abuse counselor and, according to the continuum of abuse that’s been put into evidence, practically terrorizing her.
This is unprofessional in itself, and might be grounds for appeal, but apparently that’s Juan’s shtick.
On the other extreme, listening to Kirk Nurmi ask a question is worse than watching the grass grow. It’s more tedious than going over every inch of ground we have under satellite surveillance in North Korea, one pixel at a time. His direct questioning of the defendant alone lasted long enough for an entire freaking carton of Tootsie Pops to melt.
The only attorney in this case who doesn’t make me want to toss a brick at my computer screen is Jennifer Wilmott, but she hasn’t made a big score yet in this case, although she seemed to have raised Dr. Samuels from the near-dead, because most of the time he spent being cross-examined, he was arguing with Martinez to less success than Alyce Laviolette. At least she’s demonstrated more resilience.
For a case with a profile as huge as this one, Jodi Arias needed either a franchise-level quarterback or a reliable, proven winner to back her starter. What she ended up with, apparently, was Mark Sanchez and Tim Tebow. Screwed if you run, screwed if you pass, screwed if you run the Wildcat, especially against Ray Lewis and the ghost of Lawrence Taylor, as personified by “The Prosecutor.”
But we did get some good scientific information from Dr. Samuels regarding socio-identity disorder and dissociative identity disorder, neither of which Jodi suffers from. But she does have PTSD, Dissociative Personality Disorder, and Dissociative Amnesia, and some incredibly low self-esteem if any. And it’s always comfortable to know that the chart Ms Laviolette would classify every relationship as abusive to some degree.
My take as of now is that Jodi was a pacifist looking for something to believe in. Travis became her guru, in Samuels’ words, something I’ve said from the beginning. Travis served as her religious icon, her mentor in the PPL MLM scam, and her sex tutor.
The most important thing I’ve learned from this trial was in the form of a short class in body chemistry from Dr. Samuels: Panic activates the limbic system, which puts out adrenaline, which in turn causes glucose to be produced. (This explains why, as a diabetic, my blood sugar is always higher after a stressful incident.)
Correction: In an earlier post, “hypothalamus” should correctly be “hippocampus.”
“and the animal instinct of survival came roaring in from her
hypothalamus hippocampus and turned her into something like The Tasmanian Devil on Angel Dust.”
And yes, it freaking sure as hell IS brain surgery!
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