Most people have seen hundreds of jury trials without ever actually seeing one.

We've watched them in movies and on television. The prosecutor dramatically points at the defendant. A witness suddenly confesses. The defense lawyer discovers a surprise piece of evidence in the middle of cross-examination. Someone gives an incredible speech, the courtroom erupts, and ten minutes later the jury returns with a verdict.

Real jury trials aren't like that.

I've tried criminal cases before juries in Maine, and the real thing is usually slower, more controlled, more technical—and, in many ways, much more interesting.  The first thing to understand is that I typically have 10 hours or preparation for every one hour of trial.  Everything you see during a trial has likely been carefully planned for.  The opening argument you hear? I've probably rehearsed it and timed it ten times before I actually deliver it.  The witness questioning--all written in advance with careful citations to everywhere in the record that I can prove my point-if necessary.  But what else? Much like a sporting event, you can practice as much as you want but you still have to play the game.  Witnesses say funny things, the prosecution theory is different than you expected, the other lawyer makes a mistake, the Judge is keeping evidence out or letting everything in--the game still has to be played.  Winning trials is about being as prepared as you can be, executing on that plan but also adapting in real-time as the trial unfolds.

A criminal jury trial begins with jury selection. A group of potential jurors comes into the courtroom and the judge and lawyers work through the process of selecting the people who will actually decide the case. This isn't about finding jurors who already agree with one side. The goal is a jury that can listen to the evidence, follow the judge's instructions, and decide the case fairly.

Once the jury is selected, the lawyers give opening statements.

An opening statement isn't evidence, and it isn't supposed to be a dramatic Hollywood speech. It's an opportunity for each side to explain what it expects the evidence will show. A good opening gives jurors a framework for understanding everything they're about to hear.

Then the State presents its case.

Witnesses testify. The prosecutor asks questions. I have the opportunity to cross-examine those witnesses. Exhibits may be introduced. Police officers may testify. Depending on the case, there may be experts, photographs, videos, medical evidence, forensic evidence, or recordings.

And unlike television, there generally aren't surprise witnesses or mystery documents suddenly appearing halfway through trial. Both sides usually know a great deal about the evidence before the trial begins.

After the State rests, the defense has an opportunity to present evidence—but importantly, we don't have to.

The burden of proof belongs entirely to the State. A defendant is presumed innocent and does not have to prove his or her innocence. A defendant also has the constitutional right not to testify, and the jury cannot hold that decision against them.

After the evidence is complete, both sides give closing arguments. This is where the lawyers can finally take all of the testimony and evidence the jury has heard and argue what it means.

The judge then instructs the jury on the law, and the jurors deliberate privately.

That's when everyone waits.

Eventually, the jury returns to the courtroom and announces its verdict.

There may not be a dramatic confession. Nobody needs to yell, "You can't handle the truth!" And I've never seen a judge bang a gavel while the entire courtroom erupts.

But when you are the person sitting at the defense table waiting for a jury to decide your future, I can promise you this:

The real thing has plenty of drama.

If you're facing a criminal charge in Maine and wondering what a jury trial might actually look like in your case, talk to me. I'm always happy to discuss your case and answer your questions.