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Two Hispanic musicians who were not called at the first trial said King never attacked police and seemed to submit before being beaten. Dorothy Gibson, a black woman who lives across the street from the beating site, said, "He didn't do anything. He was just dodging blows."
By far the most significant new witness was King. From the beginning he has found himself in a position akin to that of a rape victim. There is no question, beyond niggling over details, about what was done to him. The issue is whether he, by his character and behavior, somehow invited and justified the abuse. Although he is not on trial -- his assailants are -- the core question is if he was scary or erratic enough to legitimize almost any level of force. At the first trial, prosecutors chose not to put him on the stand. He is a high school dropout. He has a criminal record. He was drinking that night. His memory is hazy, whether because of alcohol or injury. He has changed his story more than once. And he is a large black man in a nation often frightened of black men.
Yet many observers felt he provided this trial's most compelling moments. Rather than experience him only as a silent presence or a moving shadow on videotape, jurors could see the fateful night through his eyes. He described lying on the ground waiting to be handcuffed, only to be shocked by Koon with a stun gun. He recalled running toward his car, throwing his hands over his face. He said, in complete accord with the evidence, "I wasn't trying to hit any police officer." Said Denver trial lawyer Dan Caplis, a consultant on the case for NBC News: "The whole defense is based on King as a PCP-crazed monster. His appearance undermined that. He showed no hint of anger; he appeared a very sincere, passive person."
The jurors, eight men and four women, are volunteers. A mailing to 6,000 residents netted about 300 willing to face the pressure and the prospect of being sequestered for a couple of months. The one black woman placed her child with relatives for the duration. The one black man would have been dismissed by defense lawyers. To their astonishment, Judge John Davies blocked them, citing a 1991 U.S. Supreme Court ruling that prohibits exclusion based on race. One juror is Hispanic and the other nine are white, in a city where the population is more than 60% minority. Defense attorney Saltzman insists, "This case has never been about race." In the law, that may be so. In the eyes of the world, as in the eyes of Rodney King and perhaps of his assailants that sad night, race has been at the center of the case -- nettlesomely reminding us that freedom and justice are not settled conditions but eternal debates.