Art of the Courthouse (Concluded)

The Verdict is In, the Gallery is Closed

Left, Philonise Floyd, in the courtroom gallery; right, Mx. Floyd and Brandon Williams, after the verdict was announced, February 24. Mx. (P.) Floyd is George Floyd’s brother, Mx. Williams is his nephew. The photographer who was present was accompanying the Floyd family to shoot their press conference after the verdict was announced; this was taken outside the courthouse as the three gents departed (ostensibly unseen by the other news-media press photographers).

Sketches and paintings “by the numbers”

– I covered the trial U.S. v. Thao et al., case 21-cr-108, by way of doing courthouse sketching for six weeks to the day, January 11 through February 22, 2022.

– I filled 97 sketchpages, ranging from 4 x 6 inches to 8 x 11 inches, all done on-site.

– Back in my studio I finished a dozen and a half became sketch pages that became drawings or paintings.

– I employed a half dozen kinds of sketch media rendered atop four paper surfaces.

– I lost 8 lbs., having walked 3 miles daily to-from the courthouse, skipping meals here and there. (It got me through doldrums of a bitter Minnesota winter, this one being the worst in a half-decade.)

– I was at the courthouse when the verdict was announced on February 24. All three defendants were convicted of both counts.

– I wrote six illustrated columns for Medium readers.

Perspectives: first, Minnesotan mindsets…

I mentioned Minnesota winters, have you ever heard the phrase Minnesota-speak? No journalists I talked to had. You can learn of it by watching the film Fargo (1996) or visit this url.

One day, while waiting to enter the courtroom to begin afternoon sketching, I spoke to the talkative gatekeeper who monitored correspondents’ IDs to ensure secure entry.

It was the judge’s 85th birthday and I joked about it.

I asked her if today would be “different” in the court. Different in “Minnesota-speak” translates as holding a non-committal attitude towards past, present, or future events: “It might be good, it might be bad, I’m undecided.”

I asked the gatekeeper if she could pass on an illustrated birthday card I had made for the judge, telling her I wanted the day to “feel different” for the octogenarian, i.e., upbeat. She readily agreed to do so, but I had hoped she would remark, in Minnesota-speak, “Yah sure, you betcha!” She did mention that her favorite Minnesota phrase was “May I borrow you somethin’”?

Minnesota artists are not that famed for courtroom sketches save one: Ken Avidor. A comic artist by profession, Avidor sketched many days of the jury trial of Tom Petters, the high profile case of a multibillion-dollar Ponzi-schemer a dozen years ago held in St. Paul’s Burger Courthouse.

Some sketches were published in 2008 as comic strips by Minnesota’s online newspaper Minnpost. Recently I took a look at his sketchbooks first-hand, in the collection of the Minnesota Historical Society (MNHS).

Figure 1: Some courtroom sketches of the Tom Petters trial in Burger Courthouse, 2008, sampled from a 140 paged sketchbook by Ken Avidor, predominantly pen and ink medium. Most spreads were full of mini-portraits of the judge, trial litigators, witnesses, etc. Top, the first day of the trial; middle-left, early studies of Tom Petters; middle-right, questioning about sex; bottom, one of the final pages pertaining to sentencing. Frequently Ken added speech bubbles of what was being said, I know that to be a very difficult task. Margin comments that he added of personal judgments of success (or lack of it) in terms of likeness he achieved were so honest: “Good sketch, head shape wrong, Petters not easy to draw, bad nose,” etc… One day Ken noted of the presiding Judge Kyle, “[He is] pissed off at the slow pace of the trial.” (Interesting to me as I too had sensed such a feeling held by the judge in the U.S. v. Thao trial.) Credit: Collection of the Minnesota Historical Society with the permission of the artist.

I exchanged correspondence with MNHS’s Curator of Art, who years ago had acquired Avidor’s books.

By happenstance, he mentioned his effort last year to acquire sketches of the state trial of Derek Chauvin by acclaimed courtroom artist Jane Rosenberg. “She declined,” said he. I nearly quipped, “Was that because you asked, ‘May I borrow you some sketches?’” In fact, he discovered that Mx. Rosenberg’s archival matter is destined for the U.S. Library of Congress, confirming for me that he had been “onto” something and being in good company regarding the request.

I read last month of a recent trial wherein a defendant herself had made repeated efforts to sketch Mx. Rosenberg! (Trials are not without small slices of humor, a topic I will cover soon.)

Now, some results

As the trial closed…

Figure 2: Background, upper-center, defendant J. Alexander Kueng being questioned by his attorney Thomas Plunkett; foreground, in the gallery seats, members each of the family of defendant Tou Thao and that of George Floyd, February 16.

Figure 3: Defendant Thomas Lane, U.S. Attorney Samantha Trepel. The “goth-look” evident couldn’t be adequately softened due to a tight timeframe, perhaps not inappropriate as edgy emotions were manifest, it being the final testimony in the trial by a defendant, February 21.

Pre-verdict sketches

Figure 4: Two sketches in a pre-verdict setting, many federal marshals (and the dog Pickle) were on high alert, February 24.

Post-verdict sketches

Figure 5: Two sketches in post-verdict settings, gesture-sketches of defense leaving the courtroom; at least one marshal looked to accompany defendants, I featured him (lower-left-side) as a “gesture-skeleton,” since he was a ghost to me, I had never seen him before that day, February 24.

Figure 6: One drawing in a post-verdict setting, members of the defense ready to depart the 7th floor lobby by elevator; at least one marshal observing (right), February 24.

Figure 7: Two sketches in a post-verdict setting, Brandon Williams (George Floyd’s nephew) and Courtney Ross (Mr. Floyd’s significant other) preparing for a press conference, February 24.

Figure 8: Photography, I took these in a post-verdict setting (the “pop-up” press-conference space), herewith a broadsheet; top, several media broadcasts by reporters happening, middle, prosecution team of the office of the U.S. attorney conducting a press conference, bottom, press conference by Brandon Williams and Philonise Floyd, February 24.

More perspectives: two months of ups and downs

Ups, humor…

I was one of two courtroom artists with media access. One day I decided to sketch the other artist, he had courtroom access that day, I did not. The closed-circuit TV monitor had a good view of him, so I did it quickly, then sent a copy to him as I reasoned his partner and children may not have ever seen him doing court sketching.

Figure 9: Left, sketch artist, right, one of his trial illustrations from day 1. Folks in a make-believe Minnesota town–Lake Wobegon–were featured by writer and humorist Garrison Keillor as the most savvy at Minnesota-speak. Phrases used by Lake Wobegon residents to describe high achievement are “pretty good” and “above average.” My sketch of him was–at best–one or both of those monikers. His sketches were always good, well, at least pretty good. Though–for a month–he never could quite capture the judge’s likeness. It nagged me until I realized his depiction looked far too much like Mr. Whipple, from a childhood TV ad of my youth (the one that humorously featured a grocer who sold Charmin tissue).

While chatting with a fellow “gallery attendee” at the break one day she mentioned how she had observed one of the U.S. assistant attorneys nervously “twirling her hair.” I chuckled, admitting that, though I was (by necessity) an artist who studied various hair shapes and colors, I had not seen such behavior.

At a break the next day she said, “Recall my hair twirling-story? Well, I had mentioned that briefly to someone else yesterday, then, rather quickly, received an admonition of sorts from an attorney general aide, about–gossiping.

The funny thing was that aide said the ‘offended attorney’ was not the one I had actually mentioned, the gossip had transferred to another attorney, sort of ‘lost in the translation!’ ” I asked if she had heard of the “communication-theory behavior” called telephone or Russian whispers. She perked up: it then was her turn to chuckle.

A few downsides: ethics, empathy, sympathy, etc.

A two-month trial was not without a glitch or two.

I was initially afforded a media credential but, after the first week, was nixed for most of my “lottery-awarded” artist access to the courtroom for very odd reasons.

By way of a retort, I mentioned I was writing for (and publishing at) Medium and asked if I may have access as a journalist. But the court PR coordinator said that too was nixed, their office apparently defines the press as “traditional avenues of old” (press and broadcast only) such that “online social journalism” just doesn’t count.

I was curious, so I checked to what extent the most popular social-journalism portals across the globe subscribed to some sort of standardized (and ethical) code of conduct. To my surprise, it existed, in spades, and has so for years: it’s known as the Santa Clara Principles. (A surprise for me was that I am an alumnus of the very Jesuit university that developed it.)

I read all the principles, they’re solid. The document is endorsed by perhaps 100 institutions around the world, including Medium, Reddit, Instagram, and others. Interestingly, very few “traditional” news sources look to have endorsed SC Principles’ code of ethics. The future of the ethics of courtroom access (both old and new media) remains hazy to me.

Much of this is “water under the bridge” as from time to time I did get in-courtroom access due to “no-show journalists.” And, ultimately, courtroom sketching might not exist a few years from now. Courtroom videographic coverage is currently denied for federal cases, it’s hard to believe tens–or perhaps hundreds–of millions of Americans will continue to accept such status quo. But of course, “Never say never,” as Tom Brady recently acclaimed.

Empathy, or is it–sympathy?: Figure 2 (previously) was a distressing effort for me to sketch. The Thao and Floyd family members, each paired and seated in a gallery-bench row, were separated by mere feet. Later that month, after the verdict was announced, “Some jurors were in tears,” wrote journalists who witnessed first-hand the verdict in the courtroom. I, too, saw such tears, but elsewhere in the courthouse.

Figure 10: This very rapid gesture sketch was of three attendees in the public viewing room, left, just as the verdict was announced. The center figure was softly crying, being steadied by her cohorts to her left and right. I never learned of identities, the reporters were elsewhere at the time. At the far right was a marshal, on-alert but perhaps not that attentive to the verdict, February 24.

Has justice been served? A pithy, “trifecta” answer might come from this quote from a 20th century African-American luminary:

“There are three sides to every story, 1) my side, 2) your side, and 3) the truth.”

Final perspective: a wide-angle one

Time for me to briefly summarize previous columns whereby I had covered the trial, below (about 1,200 words each, all six were illustrated by a total of 50 figures):

1, U.S. v. Thao, January 25. First in my series of six featuring courtroom sketch art of mine for the trial–U.S. v. Thao, et al.–happening at the Warren Burger U.S. District Courthouse in St. Paul (MN). I shared three matters, notably the setting and processes, some artful results, and thoughts on what’s next.

Art of the Courthouse 1:

2, Nine Sketches, I’m Saturated by Art and Humanity, February 3. All three defendants were under intense criminal scrutiny. Litigators, judge, and jury had faced weeks of this; me, I simply sketched, something that demanded full concentration. But such sketching was sometimes tough, not just technically. I was listening to all the edgy testimony, something that I could not simply ignore, being, well, human. Last week I heard bodycam and other recordings of four police officers listening to pleas of Mr. George Floyd — “can’t breathe, Mama, …” — not just a few seconds, but for many minutes. Did all three defendants simply abandon their humanity for 10 minutes of their lives? It’s one of many challenges to jurors that they will face by month’s end.

Art of the Courthouse 2:

3, Let’s Be Brief, February 13. The courthouse went on hiatus, with a two-day week. One defendant had been diagnosed with Covid, so the judge sent the jury home for the remainder of the week. I described how artists benefit from creative briefs, in my case perhaps not pursued quite tenaciously enough. One important lesson for me learned so far: Starting a sketch is easy, finishing it, not so much.

Art of the Courtroom 3:

4, Intermission, February 21. U.S. v. Thao just concluded its 4th week at the Burger Courthouse in St. Paul. My mood was in flux. My backgrounds lately had mostly been dark gray or black, since — black matters.

Art of the Courthouse at Intermission

5, A Complicated Trifecta as the Trial Winds Down, March 2. In Kurosawa’s film Rashomon much is “unseen” by each protagonist: is that true of journalists and sketch artists? I showed and captioned a half-dozen more sketches as the litigators in U.S. v. Thao offered summations and the trial went to jury deliberation.

Art of the Courthouse Winds Down

Gallery closed, what’s next?

The war in Ukraine immediately eclipsed the newsworthiness of this trial. (So much for Russian whispers.)

My gallery–basically four U.S. v. Thao sketchbooks–is closed. The gallery benches in Burger where visitors, the press, and one marshal sat will now be mostly empty. The courtroom and the media room will reopen, one last time, for sentencing on a still unknown day.

Next? For me, more civil-rights jury trials, I’m hooked. However, trials of this kind are said to be rare. Oddly though, such a jury trial (another civil rights event) occurred during the first week of March in the Burger Courthouse: Jacobson v. County of Chisago.

Former county sheriff Richard Duncan had been convicted of many iterations of sexual harassment of Michelle Jacobson two years ago in a Minnesota county court. The new twist in this federal trial in St. Paul was for “damages.” I attended the trial’s final day. After I sketched a half-day of summations the jury returned a verdict–with a $1.1 million award–for the plaintiff (wow).

Figure 11: Summations, Jacobson v. County of Chisago. The jury numbered eight, left side. (One juror was visually eclipsed so not sketched.) Litigators are on the right, I visually stacked them in this sketch but each delivered a summation independently; I was glad I brought several blue pastel pencils, jurors all donned the same color of mask, March 4.

Civil rights will always be “on trial.” I’ll close with a quote from a Minnesotan of note:

“There are those who say to you–we are rushing this issue of civil rights. I say we are 172 years late.”

– Hubert H. Humphrey

Whether one’s tools are the U.S. Constitution or drawing media it is best to somehow “be in the room where it happens.”

Acknowledgement: Editing assistance courtesy Kathy Heuer. Errors that might remain are mine and mine alone.

J. Kevin Byrne (MA/Minnesota, MFA/Cranbrook, MSc-Cert./Saint Mary’s) is Professor (now Emeritus) at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design (MN/USA). He has published in print and continues to do so online. Feel free to Link-in to him here.