One year ago, on Oct. 25th, James Michael Sythe visited the bar off Old Quarry Road, Rowdy’s Hideaway. He was there with his girlfriend, Kendall Carter.
The two had a few drinks, and as the evening turned into a late night, they began to argue.
The inebriated Kendall chose to walk home in the rain.
And according to Faith Killebrew, the prosecuting attorney, that’s when James followed her, mercilessly beat her to death and dumped her body over a bridge railing.
It seems an open-and-shut case.
Except, as Juror #2, Justin Kemp, listens to the facts, he becomes increasingly less sure that James is guilty. In fact, Justin is pretty sure that James didn’t kill Kendall.
Justin’s pretty sure he did.
Juror #2 explores themes of truth and justice. Justin, for instance, isn’t fully certain that he killed Kendall. After all, it was a dark, rainy night; he didn’t see any blood or body; and there was a deer crossing sign directly in front of him. He did hit something. But for all he knows, he just hit a deer. It’s not until the case begins that he realizes he may have been the one to accidentally strike the woman down.
But when he does begin to wonder if he did it—and realizes the consequences of admitting to it—we empathize with him, since the hit-and-run would have been an accident. Justin’s in an ethical bind: He’s not a cold-blooded killer, and to admit to the crime now would be to more-or-less abandon his wife and baby in the pursuit of justice. But to remain silent would be to rob a potentially innocent man of justice, even if he isn’t the best guy around.
And speaking of James not being the best guy, a couple of jurors threaten to put him away just because they recognize James was once involved with a gang—a past that James admits while testifying. But he also claims he’s left that chapter behind him. And Justin tells the jury from personal experience that people can experience real change, and he believes they need to give such people second chances. And on a similar note, the film depicts how, though jurors and lawyers alike are meant to strive for justice, our personal biases may cloud that process.
A prosecutor grapples with whether she’s truly seeking justice or if she’s just going through the motions and locking people away to secure a “win.” As she considers this dilemma, she begins studying the case deeper to make sure she’s doing the right thing.
Someone says a silent prayer. People at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting recite the Serenity Prayer.
Justin and his wife share a few quick kisses. Justin jokes that he’ll tell the judge that he’s “having a big old orgy tomorrow” to get out of jury duty. A song references a woman approaching a man for sex.
We see Kendall’s mangled and blood-covered body resting in a creek bed. Faith alleges that James “beat her viciously” before he “pushed her over a railing to the creek below and left her to die.”
Before her death, James forcefully grabs Kendall in anger, and Kendall likewise punches at him a few times and attempts to encourage him to hit her in public. James accidentally shatters a beer bottle.
We also see Justin hit something offscreen with his car. There’s a reference to a boy who died in a shootout.
The f-word is used once, and the s-word is used nine times in Juror #2. We hear a handful of instances of both “d–n” and “h—.” “A–,” “b–ch” and “p-ss” are also used. God’s name is used in vain seven times, including two instances containing “d–n.” Jesus’ name is likewise misused twice. A woman displays her middle finger.
People drink alcohol in various scenes. We’re told that Justin was an alcoholic at one point but has since stayed away from drinking for some time. A woman admits to being intoxicated.
We’re told that someone’s tattoo indicates that he’s a member of a drug-pushing gang. One person accuses a man of being stoned.
We hear that someone suffered a miscarriage in the past. There’s a reference to street racing. Justin vomits offscreen. One character mentions urination.
One jury member is more concerned with wrapping up deliberations quickly, because she wants to get home, than she is concerned with a just verdict.
Clint Eastwood’s Juror #2 feels a bit like a modern-day 12 Angry Men. But it also introduces a twist, in that one of the jurors may very well be the true guilty party.
And if there’s anything the film succeeds at doing, it’s causing us to question what we might do in Justin’s lose-lose situation. We can recognize that Justin seems to be a good guy, and we might ponder whether Justin spending the rest of his life in prison for a murder that not even he can be fully confident he committed seems fair or not. That said, it certainly isn’t fair to stay silent and let a potentially innocent man receive that sentence, either.
That moral dilemma leaves an empathetic audience grappling with the nature of guilt, justice and truth itself. And in the pursuit of that justice, the film likewise shows how a group of people, though they all enter the courtroom with good intentions, can bring their own biases into a case and make true justice a little harder to obtain.
But this courtroom drama also comes with a spattering of crude language as well as a couple scenes featuring the mangled body of the victim. And those elements may leave this case a little too messy for some families to solve.
Kennedy Unthank studied journalism at the University of Missouri. He knew he wanted to write for a living when he won a contest for “best fantasy story” while in the 4th grade. What he didn’t know at the time, however, was that he was the only person to submit a story. Regardless, the seed was planted. Kennedy collects and plays board games in his free time, and he loves to talk about biblical apologetics. He thinks the ending of Lost “wasn’t that bad.”
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