As the cast of characters assembled for the trial of John Berchielli, they proved to be a strange assortment. The prosecuting attorney and Berchielli’s lawyer turned out to have the same last name -- O’Connor -- and early attempts to address them as “Ms. O’Connor” resulted in nothing more than acute confusion. Courtroom administrators soon developed the habit of referring to the attorneys by their first names, creating an illusion of loose familiarity that could not have been more deceptive. The true atmosphere of the trial was one of distinct and unrelenting tension.
Judge Rothwell B. Mason, to be sure, does not tolerate much by way of casual informality in his courtroom. Well advanced in years, he displays a perpetual frown of concentration that was only amplified in its intensity by chronic fits of coughing. He looks every bit like the type of man who harangues neighborhood children to stay off of his lawn. One has no trouble imagining that, should a ball roll accidentally into Judge Mason’s yard or a frisbee fly carelessly onto his roof, its owner can kiss it goodbye for good.
Though the climb to the bench appeared to be a feat of physical accomplishment for the judge, he had nonetheless managed to travel nearly a thousand miles to preside over this particular case. The reason, however, was not due to any special interest or expertise in the issues involved in the case. Instead, the judge confessed to a habit of combining vacation opportunities with the few trials he’s required to take per year, and so he had chosen the Berchielli trial for geographical reasons only -- its latitude and longitude would allow him to visit old friends he had left behind when he moved away from California 16 years ago.
Starting out in the trial, the judge told the jurors that he did not want them to ask any questions about the proceedings. It was the first thing they heard as they settled into their seats in the jury box. “These attorneys will cover everything you’ll need to consider,” Judge Mason said sternly. “Maybe you could pass a note, if there’s an oversight on either side, but I won’t guarantee you’ll get an answer.”
Expectations thus clarified, the prosecution was invited to make its opening statement. Deputy District Attorney Maureen O’Connor promptly set the scene at Berchielli’s North Highlands home, where local police officers gathered on February 7th, 2006, to investigate a claim of welfare fraud. Upon discovering what the prosecutor described as a “tremendous amount of marijuana plants” enclosed by a “heavily fortified fence,” the investigating officers promptly called for backup from the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Department.
The resulting search and seizure landed Berchielli with an assortment of five felony counts. The fortifications to his backyard fence laid the foundation for the charge of setting a booby trap, or -- in technical terms -- a camouflaged device designed to cause great bodily harm. The presence of his 12-year old daughter in this environment precipitated her temporary removal from the home and the filing of a child endangerment charge against Berchielli.
The marijuana itself, which consisted of 1363 small plants and approximately 12 ounces of dried bud, formed the basis for the trinity of charges commonly faced in such cases: cultivation, distribution, and possession with the intent to distribute. These counts were brought against Berchielli and a co-defendant named Sheldon Webber, a friend who was living in Berchielli’s garage at the time of the bust.
Both Berchielli and Webber, however, had been evaluated by licensed physicians who approved their use of marijuana for medical purposes, in compliance with the requirements of California’s Compassionate Use Act. While conceding this point in her opening statement, the prosecutor was quick to boast that she would prove that the case involved amounts that grossly exceeded the protections of the state’s medical marijuana laws.
“Medical marijuana, I’ll submit to you now, is not a free-for-all,” Maureen O’Connor lectured the jury with poise and zeal, her shrewd eyes flashing. “It’s not ‘do whatever you want’ just because you have a claim. The law is very specific and narrow.”
This assertion took much of the wind out of the defense’s argument, but Joni O’Connor delivered her planned opening statement nevertheless. “Mr. Berchielli has been a lawful medical marijuana user since 1996,” the public defender said of her client. “He wasn’t cultivating marijuana unlawfully -- he was cultivating for medicinal purposes.”
Joni O’Connor concluded with a few simple denials of the charges, including the allegation that Mr. Berchielli had placed his daughter in danger of physical harm. “There is an emotional nature when the charges involve a child,” she pleaded, “but we have to put that aside and look only at the evidence.”
Webber’s attorney, Arturo Reyes, followed up with his own speech. Evoking the polished charisma and confidence of television lawyers, Reyes paced strategically around the courtroom while assuring the jury that he would not deny that marijuana was cultivated by his client. The issue, of course, was whether that cultivation was done legally.
Though Webber did have a medical marijuana recommendation from a licensed physician, it had expired just a few days before the bust. This was a typical example of the rotten luck that plagued the case, but Reyes was not mindful of this disadvantage and paid it very little lip-service.
The defense attorney instead described the dire circumstances of his client, concisely recounting the misfortune of being stranded in Mississippi after a flood and of the subsequent move into Berchielli’s garage. “In exchange for a roof over his head, [Mr. Webber] watered the plants,” Reyes explained. “Mr. Webber helped Mr. Berchielli, but he did not intend to break the law, and he did not break the law.”
When his pacing brought him back to the defense table, Reyes took his seat with a distinct sense of finality that was equal to the flair he exhibited while moving and speaking. And with that flourish as a segue, the court moved on to hear the evidence of the witnesses.
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