Before we begin, please be advised that this episode contains graphic descriptions of violence

as presented during the trial. Please take care while listening. It's Monday morning,

January 13, 2025, 6 a.m. I hear a knock at my door. At 627, I emerge from my hotel room and make my way down to the

elevator, where four deputies and my fellow jurors are already gathered. We are counted multiple

times before piling into the elevator. Once in the hotel lobby dining room,

we grab breakfast, coffee, waffles, whatever we can stomach,

while other hotel guests glance at us curiously,

their eyes shifting between us and the uniformed officer standing guard.

After breakfast, we are counted again, collected,

and then sent back up the elevators to our rooms so we can get ready for the day.

By 8 a.m., we are loaded into our designated vans and driven to the courthouse.

Upon arrival at the courthouse, we are escorted inside and led directly to our jury room. We would spend a lot of time in

this room, starting that morning. The bailiff informs us that pretrial matters are still being handled,

and the judge will let him know when it's time for us to enter the courtroom. In the meantime,

we are to remain in this room. If we need anything at all, we're told to knock on the door,

but otherwise we wait. The room is small, maybe 20 feet long by 10 feet wide. On the wall

opposite of the door, three windows overlook Cherry Street. From our third floor vantage point,

we have a direct view of the stark windowless walls of the former

Hamilton County Jail, which now sits vacant.

In the center of the room, a large wooden conference table dominates the space, surrounded

by 14 black cushioned office chairs.

Against the right wall in the far corner sits a small counter with just enough room for a sink and a commercial coffee maker.

...