We are proud of how Ross handled one of the most difficult ordeals we can imagine. Being at the trial, and watching Ross’ defense sabotaged and hamstrung, was hard enough for us. But for Ross, who knows the whole story and the evidence being concealed, it must have been a torment. Before the trial he was optimistic, saying: I’m so excited. I’m going to be free soon. There’s an explanation for everything. The evidence will show it. But then he watched as that evidence was suppressed; witnesses were blocked; his attorney was muzzled.
Yet Ross comported himself with dignity and courage throughout. Even at the end, after the devastating verdict was read, he stayed strong. He turned around to us – his loved ones – and gave us a concerned smile of comfort. “It’s ok,” he said. “It will be ok.” He was worried about us. That is so Ross. (And to the reporter who wrote he seemed “happy,” are you kidding? I can guarantee you, he was NOT happy).
Ross spoke to us about how hard it was to sit there, day after endless day, being the focal point of the jury, the press and everyone else. Of wanting to stay alert, to look good, but sometimes being exhausted. When we broke for lunch, he went to a cell for a sparse, lonely meal of a dry bologna sandwich and piece of fruit. He told us how hard it is to be on display. To have jurors, observers and press scrutinize you for hours. To have prosecutors point at you, condemn you to the room and the world, while you are forced to sit silent, unable to respond.
How hard it is to be voted guilty by a jury deprived of essential information.
Yet Ross stayed strong, calm and dignified throughout. And that shows who he is.