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7 from “Monster” to “Mentally Ill” F or two and a half hours, the jury of nine men and three women argued over how to properly punish Susan Smith. The facts of the crime were undisputed; instead, they went over the haunting traumas from Smith’s past one last time. Angry words were exchanged; several jurors cried; and when they passed around the Maxwell House coffee can in which they slipped their votes, one man initially held out for the death penalty. Robbie Christian, a thirtyone -year-old textile worker and father, later showed reporters the packet of antacids he’d had in his pocket the entire trial. “I’ve been eating these every day,” he explained unhappily. His inner conflict as a juror stemmed from his belief that, even after she let go of the emergency brake, Susan Smith could have saved her sons by following them into the water. To Christian, those crucial seconds when she decided to run up the hill rather than wade into the lake made all the difference. In the end, however, his fellow jurors reported having “little trouble” convincing Christian that capital punishment would not be just, and that such a sentence would benefit no one. “Let her live and let her conscience guide her,” explained juror John Dunn, who worked at the local Chevy dealership. As the Clerk of Court read the verdict, Bruck held Susan Smith close to him. She closed her eyes as her family burst into tears and hugged their friends and neighbors.1 With their unanimous decision that Susan Smith should serve a life sentence for her crimes, the “trial of the century in the Carolinas” came to an end. Although she was found guilty, the sentence of life in prison can be seen as a “win” for the defense because they successfully avoided the death penalty. Judge Howard thanked the jury, telling them how “proud” the “community” was of their service. “Under our system,” he told them, “the jury becomes not just the fact finders but the soul searchers, if you will, of the community.”2 As Howard formally sentenced Susan Smith to life in prison a few minutes later, “thunder rolled outside and rain poured as a summer storm cloud passed over,” perhaps signaling a fresh start for the community and its infamous daughter.3 From “Monster” to “Mentally Ill” 163 Observers and journalists streamed out of the courtroom and into the steamy summer rain, and the town breathed a collective sigh of relief. Reactions on Main Street were largely subdued, although speculation about why the jurors saved Smith’s life circulated immediately. Their decision was not based on pity, but rather on justice. Judge Howard believed that the defense portrayed her convincingly as a child “who never matured emotionally ” due to the various traumas in her life. When a child commits a crime, society inevitably looks to the parents; David Bruck later argued that “many people carried these burdens of doubt and guilt” so heavily that each local who testified “thought maybe it was something that they had done.” Tommy Pope agreed, calling it “Union’s case,” a “truly unique” trial that drew in “the whole fabric of the community.” The facts, jurors believed, showed that the “mistreatment by her stepfather, Beverly Russell, and others” played a role in her crimes. “I just feel really bad for Susan Smith because of the way that she’s been treated, the way that men used her,” one juror told the Rock Hill Herald. Juror Deborah Benvenuti, a dry cleaner whose own daughter had been sexually assaulted in the past, agreed that the jury was swayed by Smith’s “rough life.” Beverly Russell, they believed, “bore great responsibility for her actions.” Benvenuti explained, “He was supposed to have been a father figure. . . . he should have been punished for what he did to her.” In the end, Bruck believed, “the jury realized that she truly could have been any of their daughters.”4 In fact, according to the exit interviews of jurors, it was not just Beverly Russell who deserved punishment in this trial. All of the community adults who failed young Susan bore responsibility. “There are lot more people in this case who should have been punished,” argued juror Leroy Belue, a local butcher. “She never received the help she should have.” Juror Michael Roberts, a productions manager at a local textile plant, later summed up the sense of community guilt, saying simply, “It’s a reflection on...

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