I don’t know why, but I had a feeling about this jury summons. The night before, I was already cranky about going. My husband even checked online, just in case it had been canceled at the last minute. No luck. I had to show up.
So at 8 AM on Monday, I dragged myself to the Comal County Annex building along with about a hundred other people. We filed in like zombies, lining up for the metal detector silent, resigned. After checking in at the window, I was told I’d be in Courtroom 4.
There was space in the front row, so I took a seat. I pulled out my book, America’s First Daughter, and started reading about a time when our country was formed while we waited.
Then, a woman came in, clutching a small pet carrier. I could feel her energy before she even spoke, frazzled and nervous. She turned to me, wide-eyed. “Are you okay with dogs?”
I met her gaze and smiled, reassuring. “Yes, I love dogs.”
Relief flickered across her face as she turned to the man on her left, a white man staring straight down at his phone, unresponsive. She tried again. “Are you okay with dogs?” No reaction. He acted like she wasn’t even there. Invisible. Unseen.
She sighed, gave a little shrug, then unzipped the carrier. A tiny dog climbed onto her lap, obediently curling into the place where she tapped her leg. She let out a few slow, deep breaths.
The tension in the room was thick. I could feel it, not just in her, but everywhere. Something simmering beneath the surface. Then, before we were dismissed to be assigned numbers, words flashed across the overhead projector:
The definition of a sexually violent predator.
It wasn’t up there long, but long enough.
Enough for us to understand exactly what this case was going to be about.
God no.
Now I understood the dread that had been gnawing at me.
When we filed back in, I settled into my assigned seat in the second row from the back, grateful for the space. But the questions reached me anyway.
The prosecuting attorney, flown in from Huntsville, explained that she was part of a special unit designated for these cases. That this was the first case in Texas where a woman could be designated a sexually violent predator under the law.
Great. So we were making history in this way for women.
The prosecuting attorney said that to prove someone was a sexually violent predator, we had to determine two things:
1. They had two prior sexual convictions for which they had served or were serving jail time.
2. They had a psychological abnormality or personality disorder that made them likely to reoffend.
Then came the bias questions.
We all have biases, she said, and that’s okay. This is a judgment-free room.
Except it wasn’t.
Because within days, this same room would be making a literal judgment on someone’s life.
People started sharing their stories one by one.
Have you ever been a victim of sexual violence? the attorney asked the room.
In a room of about 100 people, every three to four people raised their hands.
Most of them were women.
Most of the victims in their stories were women.
And then the prosecutor shifted the topic.
Transgender people.
I’m not saying that anyone in this case is transgender, but how do you feel about transgender people?
A hand shot up.
“I believe God made man and woman, and that’s it.”
“The chromosomes are science that proves it.”
But I know that’s not true. For 15 years, I’ve dedicated my career to fertility and family psychology.
Biological sex is more complex than just XX or XY chromosomes.
I’ve interviewed people born with variations like XXY (Klinefelter syndrome), XYY, or intersex traits, where their anatomy doesn’t fit typical male or female categories.
I also know that male infertility can begin in utero due to genetic and hormonal factors, showing that development isn’t always binary.
Science recognizes that sex and gender involve a spectrum of biological, genetic, and environmental influences.
Without an opportunity for us to share opposing views, the prosecutor pressed further:
Do you believe transgender people have a mental disorder?
Another hand.
“Yes. Something is wrong with them. They’re confused.”
And then she asked the next question:
Do you believe transgender people are more likely to commit sexual crimes?
More hands. More answers.
“Yes.”
“Yes, I do.”
“They’re mentally ill.”
I put my head in my hands.
I felt physically sick.
I should have spoken up.
I should have said: That’s not true. In 2013, the DSM-5 removed Gender Identity Disorder because being trans is not a mental illness. The distress some trans people feel ”Gender Dysphoria” is caused by society forcing them into an identity that isn’t theirs. And in 2019, the World Health Organization removed
“Gender Identity Disorder” from the International Classification of Diseases, recognizing that it should never have been categorized as a mental disorder to begin with.
I should have said that.
But I didn’t.
Because right the prosecutor shared, “There will be psychological experts testifying in this case.”
And then, a potential juror raised their hand and said:
“You can find an expert to say what you want to say.”
Another potential juror chimed in:
“I don’t believe in all that psychology stuff anyway.”
They invalidated my profession. I shared earlier that I was a psychotherapist who administered personality tests so the attorneys would know my bias.
So I sat there, feeling like nothing I could say would matter.
But it does matter.
Because justice can’t exist if we refuse to learn.
Because ignorance isn’t an opinion it’s a choice.
Because I should have spoken up then.
So I am now.
Yesterday, the verdict came in.
Of course, they found her guilty.
She is now the first woman in Texas to be officially designated a sexually violent predator.
The crime she committed against teenagers was heinous. There is no question that she deserved this. Justice was served.
I found myself sitting with a heavy weight—not just the weight of the actions of a sociopath but witnessing injustice in that courtroom. The wrong assumption that the perpetrator was transsexual.
Because in the process of upholding the law, I also saw prejudice, ignorance, and misinformation flourish.
Because both things can be true at the same time.
That courtroom was a study in dialectical thinking—a place where opposing truths existed side by side.
Justice was served.
And yet, among those who served justice, harmful words were spoken—words that could perpetuate further injustice against a minority group.
At the same time, I saw something important: people shared their clear and strong feelings about sexual assault against children. Their unwavering stance against such harm was powerful, and that kind of protection was good to see.
A white man who responded aggressively in the courtroom was the same man who, just moments later, offered his seat to a woman walking with a cane.
The same system that once classified transgender people as mentally ill is the system that rightfully classified this woman as a predator—because science and psychology have evolved. And yet, many people’s beliefs have not.
Some jurors insisted that psychologists can be paid to say anything. While that’s an oversimplification, I also know that the field of psychology has been wrong before.
This is the tension of truth.
I know what it’s like to believe something with certainty, only to later learn I was wrong. I know because I once believed what I was taught.
When I was in grad school, Gender Identity Disorder was still listed in the DSM. At the time, the field told us that transgender people suffered from a mental disorder. And so I believed it—not out of hate, but because that was the prevailing knowledge.
But science evolved. New evidence emerged. The DSM changed—just as it had once changed its classification of homosexuality—because it was wrong.
We have to be able and willing to learn.
Willing to hold two opposing truths at once—the inner conflict, the cognitive dissonance it creates.
To see both the good in people and the damage their ignorance can have on others. To acknowledge that justice was served while also recognizing that biases were reinforced.
Thankfully, when the prosecuting attorney asked if anyone believed “homosexuals” were more likely to commit sexual crimes, no one raised their hand.
And when the attorney asked someone directly, the juror responded, “You have to get to know the person.”
Why was that understanding extended to one group, but not the other?
So I left the courtroom carrying the not only the heaviness of the case, but two opposing truths—
-
- Justice was absolutely served, thankfully. A dangerous person was rightfully labeled for the protection of society.
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- And yet, an innocent group of people were unfairly labeled in the same category- ignorance upheld. Biases were reinforced. Misinformation went unchallenged.
And that’s where the loss is. When we judge before we even know a person.
