Yup, it is a simple issue, generally speaking: people ought not, by and large, make promises that they don’t intend to keep. But even the law — which, as we know, is an ass — recognizes exceptions to that; duress, say. Point a gun at my head and make me promise to pay you twenty bucks, and I don’t have to keep that promise.

Jury nullification is much the same thing, even though the metaphorical gun is, by and large, pointed at somebody else’s head. Windy brings up the Richard Paey case, which is an easy example. A guy who’s done not a damn thing wrong is put on trial, with huge penalties if he’s convicted of the crime of which he is, no question, guilty.

Compared to putting him in a cell for years, what’s little fib? — which, by the way, is made under duress. (If an erstwhile juror actually tells the truth during voir dire, and the actual truth is, “I’m going to do what makes sense to me and my conscience, and if that’s not in accord with what you and that person in the black robes think, I do hope you’ll suffer great mental anguish,” think that they’re safe from a contempt citation?)

But that’s an easy case, and even there, there are some repercussions to doing the right thing in that instance. (The chance of stopping the insane War on Some Drugs goes down, just a little, when jury nullifications happen only in such obvious and egregious cases.) Yup, in another easy case, it’s wrong to let the white murderers of a civil rights worker, proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, go because they’re white guys. But it’s wrong not because of the fib involved in taking the oath, but because, well, it’s the wrong decision.

Getting on a jury while being consciously willing to engage in nullification is, in and of itself, a little fib. Any grownup should know that little fibs are sometimes okay. Depends on the situation.

But sure, absent some good enough reason to fib, it’s wrong to fib. And if you can totally ignore all the good reasons why a good person might fib, we’re back to the old Abe Lincoln bit: if you call a tail a leg, how many legs does a lamb have?

Answer: four. Because calling a tail a leg doesn’t make it one. And neither does calling jury nullification inherently wrong make it so.

[If you don't have time to read others' comments, why would anyone bother to read yours? I'm cutting out the middleman and deleting the rest. MB]

a) Zero.

b) Zero.

http://www.joebageant.com/joe/2008/06/jury-nullificat.html

I am an attorney in Texas albeit a business transaction guy with a fondness of Constitutional Law.

You asked right off the bat, “Can you please explain to me how jury nullification is not a gross and unconscionable violation of the juror’s oath?”

I will tell you EXACTLY how, with no hard feelings attached.

Scenario 1: When a legislature/executive signs a law that encroaches on our natural and inalienable rights. i.e. when those branches neglect their own oaths to the Constitution when they took office.

Scenario 2: During the law enforcement phase, enforcement is applied against the intention and policy of the enacted law, in a manner that is a detriment to the community it serves, well prejudicial enforcement, etc. This occurs when the law enforcement officer has already breached his oath to the Constitution and the law.

It seems to me that in either of these situations, it is the jury’s duty to stop them in order to MAINTAIN their own oath. In so doing, the jury of ones peers retains the power to keep both of these in check. They don’t set precedent, but in that specific scenario they can “call foul”, but again, Do you not trust your own community to be able to make that call?

I do.