Grand jury
Based on Wikipedia: Grand jury
In 1974, something extraordinary happened: a grand jury named the sitting President of the United States as an unindicted co-conspirator in a criminal scheme. Richard Nixon, the most powerful man in the world, found himself identified by a group of ordinary citizens as someone who had likely committed crimes—even though he would never face trial for them. This was the grand jury doing what it has done for over eight centuries: standing between the government and the people, wielding both a sword and a shield.
The grand jury is one of the strangest creatures in the legal zoo. It's not a court. Judges don't preside over it. The person being investigated has no right to appear before it, no right to present evidence, no right to even know what's happening until it's over. And yet this secretive body of citizens holds extraordinary power—the power to compel testimony, demand documents, and ultimately decide whether someone will face criminal charges.
The Sword and the Shield
Legal scholars describe the grand jury with a metaphor that cuts both ways: it's simultaneously a sword and a shield.
The shield part is easier to understand. Before the government can put you on trial for a serious crime, it must first convince a group of your fellow citizens that there's enough evidence to warrant a trial. This prevents prosecutors from hauling people into court based on grudges, political vendettas, or flimsy evidence. The grand jury stands between the accused and the full machinery of criminal prosecution.
But the grand jury is also a sword—and here's where things get interesting. It's a sword wielded by the people, not just by the government. A grand jury can investigate crimes on its own initiative. It can dig into corruption. It can expose wrongdoing that prosecutors might prefer to ignore. In this way, it functions as a kind of citizens' oversight committee with subpoena power.
Some historians argue the "shield of the people against the power of the crown" narrative is romanticized mythology. But mythology or not, the idea that ordinary citizens can check prosecutorial power remains embedded in the institution.
Why "Grand"?
The name comes from French. Grand means large. The grand jury is simply bigger than its counterpart, the petit jury—petit meaning small—that decides guilt or innocence at trial.
A typical American federal grand jury has between sixteen and twenty-three members. Traditionally, the number was exactly twenty-three, and at least twelve had to agree before any action could be taken. This meant that even a bare majority of a full grand jury could move forward with charges. Virginia, always eager to do things differently, uses smaller grand juries for certain purposes.
How It Actually Works
Grand jury proceedings happen behind closed doors. No judge presides. The prosecutor runs the show, calling witnesses and presenting evidence. The target of the investigation—the person who might end up charged with a crime—has no right to be there, no right to bring a lawyer into the room, no right to tell their side of the story.
This might sound troublingly one-sided, and it is. The grand jury hears only what the prosecutor wants them to hear. There's an old saying among lawyers: a skilled prosecutor could get a grand jury to indict a ham sandwich. The saying captures something real about the dynamics at play.
When the grand jury finishes deliberating, it issues one of two findings. If they believe there's probable cause—enough evidence to justify a trial—they endorse the indictment with the words "a true bill" and the foreperson's signature. The accused then stands indicted and must face trial.
If the grand jury finds the evidence insufficient, they write either "not a true bill" or, in a wonderful piece of legal Latin that has survived for centuries, "ignoramus"—literally "we do not know" or "we are ignorant of this." The accusation gets thrown out. Lawyers say the defendant has been "no-billed."
An ignored indictment isn't necessarily the end. Prosecutors can try again at the next session with new evidence. But they can't keep bringing the same case forever, and if a trial jury has already returned a verdict, the matter is settled.
Medieval Origins
The grand jury traces its roots to 1166 and an English legal reform called the Assize of Clarendon. King Henry II—the same king whose quarrel with Thomas Becket ended with the archbishop's murder in Canterbury Cathedral—wanted to strengthen royal justice at the expense of the feudal courts run by local lords.
Henry sent traveling judges on regular circuits through the country to enforce the "King's Peace." But how would these judges know which crimes to prosecute? Henry borrowed a technique from William the Conqueror, who had used sworn inquests to compile the Domesday Book, that extraordinary survey of English landholding. In each county, a group of important men would swear an oath to report all crimes committed since the last court session.
This was the proto-grand jury: local worthies identifying wrongdoers for royal justice. The institution evolved over centuries, eventually becoming enshrined in the Magna Carta of 1215, when rebellious nobles forced King John to guarantee certain rights—including protections related to how free men could be accused and tried.
The Grand Jury in America
When the founders drafted the Constitution, they included grand jury protections in the Fifth Amendment: "No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury."
This made grand juries constitutionally required for serious federal crimes. The founders saw them as essential safeguards against government overreach, part of the same fabric as trial by jury and other rights designed to keep power in the hands of citizens.
In the early Republic, grand juries played a surprisingly active role. Most criminal prosecutions weren't brought by government attorneys—there weren't many of those yet. Instead, private citizens initiated prosecutions. A crime victim, or their family, or even just a concerned citizen could bring a bill of indictment to the grand jury. If the grand jury found sufficient evidence that a crime had been committed and that the court had jurisdiction, they could authorize the private complainant to prosecute the case with essentially the same powers as a modern attorney general.
The grand jury served as a filter, screening out frivolous or malicious prosecutions before they could waste court resources or harm innocent people. This role became less important as professional public prosecutors emerged in the latter half of the nineteenth century, but the grand jury itself persisted.
When Presidents Face Grand Juries
The Nixon case showed the grand jury's power at its most dramatic. The Watergate grand jury didn't just investigate low-level operatives. It reached all the way to the White House inner circle, indicting seven aides including former Attorney General John Mitchell. And it named Nixon himself—not as a defendant, but as an unindicted co-conspirator.
Why unindicted? The Justice Department had a policy, still debated today, that a sitting president cannot be indicted. But the grand jury found enough evidence of criminal conduct to name Nixon in its findings, even if it couldn't charge him directly.
Nixon resigned before he could be impeached, but resignation didn't save him from the grand jury entirely. He was still required to testify. The spectacle of a former president answering questions before a grand jury demonstrated that even the highest office doesn't place someone entirely beyond this ancient institution's reach.
In 1998, Bill Clinton became the first sitting president required to testify before a grand jury as the subject of an investigation. Clinton testified via closed-circuit television, but he testified. The grand jury's power to compel testimony applied even to the Oval Office.
The Modern American Landscape
Today, all fifty states have some provision for grand juries, but only about half actually use them regularly. Twenty-two states have constitutional protections preventing legislatures or courts from abolishing grand juries entirely. Six states—Oklahoma, Nebraska, New Mexico, North Dakota, Nevada, and Kansas—allow citizens to petition for a grand jury, bypassing the normal system where prosecutors decide what gets investigated.
This citizen petition process represents the grand jury's "sword" function in its purest form. If enough people sign a petition, they can force an investigation that prosecutors might prefer to avoid. It's a check on prosecutorial discretion, a way for the community to demand accountability.
Grand Juries Beyond Criminal Prosecution
Not all grand juries focus on crimes. Civil grand juries in states like California serve as independent watchdogs over government, investigating waste, corruption, and maladministration in public agencies. They can't bring criminal charges, but they can issue reports that expose problems and embarrass officials into reform.
This watchdog function has deep historical roots. In Ireland from the seventeenth century until 1898, grand juries served as local government authorities. They set salaries for public officers, regulated prisons, funded hospitals, built and maintained roads and bridges, and levied taxes. They determined which public works to undertake, how much to pay for them, and who would be responsible for completing them. These weren't just legal bodies—they were governing councils.
American grand juries in the early Republic sometimes exercised similar quasi-legislative functions, passing on matters of public policy, approving expenditures, even functioning as a kind of citizen legislature for local affairs.
Japan's Twist on the Concept
When the Allied occupation authorities rebuilt Japan's legal system after World War II, they introduced something inspired by the American grand jury: the Prosecutorial Review Commission, or Kensatsu Shinsakai.
But the Japanese system works in reverse. Rather than deciding whether to bring charges in the first place, these commissions review cases that prosecutors have already decided not to pursue. If a prosecutor drops a case, concerned citizens can ask the Prosecutorial Review Commission to look at whether that decision was correct.
Each commission consists of eleven randomly selected citizens who serve six-month terms. Until 2009, their recommendations were purely advisory—prosecutors could ignore them. That year, new legislation made the commissions' decisions binding under certain circumstances.
A 1990 survey found that nearly seventy percent of Japanese citizens had never heard of the system. It remains relatively obscure, but it serves an important function: combating official misfeasance, especially by public officials who might otherwise escape accountability.
The system represents a fascinating inversion of the American model. American grand juries protect defendants from overzealous prosecution. Japanese review commissions protect crime victims from prosecutors who are too reluctant to pursue cases. Same democratic impulse—citizen oversight of the criminal justice system—but pointed in the opposite direction.
Okinawa's Brief Experiment
For a few years in the mid-twentieth century, grand juries operated on the Japanese island of Okinawa—under American administration.
From 1945 to 1972, the United States controlled Okinawa as part of the post-war occupation. In 1963, the civil administration promulgated an ordinance guaranteeing grand jury indictment and petit jury trial for criminal defendants in its courts. This reflected the U.S. Supreme Court's concern that American civilians tried abroad under American-established tribunals shouldn't lose their constitutional protections.
The concern was serious enough that the District Court in Washington twice invalidated criminal convictions from Okinawa's civil administration courts because they lacked proper jury systems. Grand juries continued operating in Okinawa until the island reverted to Japanese control in 1972.
Liberia's Constitutional Inheritance
Liberia, founded by freed American slaves in the nineteenth century, modeled its constitution on the United States' and included grand jury protections from the start. The 1847 constitution included grand juries in its very first article.
Today, Liberia's constitution states that no person shall be held to answer for a capital or infamous crime—except in cases of impeachment or military matters or petty offenses—unless indicted by a grand jury. It's one of the few countries outside the United States that still uses grand juries in this traditional manner.
The system remains active. In 2015, for instance, the Monteserrado County Grand Jury indicted the managing director of the national Port Authority on charges of economic sabotage, theft of property, and criminal conspiracy. The grand jury continues to function as a check on official corruption in a country that has struggled with governance challenges.
The English Inheritance
To understand how grand juries work, it helps to understand their English procedural heritage, which shaped American practice.
In England, the sheriff of every county was required to summon twenty-four men to each quarter session and assize—the regular court sessions held throughout the year. These men would "inquire into, present, do and execute" whatever the Crown commanded. They had to number at least fourteen but no more than twenty-three.
At county quarter sessions, grand jurors needed to meet the same property qualifications as regular trial jurors. But at the assizes—the more serious court sessions presided over by traveling royal judges—grand jurors were typically gentlemen of high standing, the local worthies whose social position gave their findings weight.
When court opened, the judge or presiding officer would deliver a "charge" to the grand jury, directing their attention to important points in the cases they would consider. Then the grand jury withdrew to their own room with the bills of indictment.
Witnesses came in to testify. The foreman administered oaths, noting each witness's appearance with his initials on the back of the bill. Only prosecution witnesses testified—the grand jury's job was merely to determine whether there was enough evidence to justify a trial, not to decide guilt or innocence.
If at least twelve grand jurors thought the evidence sufficient, they endorsed the bill as "a true bill." If not, they wrote "ignoramus" or "not a true bill," and the charge was thrown out. The grand jury could find a true bill on some charges but not others, or against some defendants but not others. What they couldn't do was return conditional or partial findings on individual charges—that nuanced fact-finding was reserved for the trial jury.
A Failed Canadian Experiment
In 2011, a member of the Ontario provincial parliament introduced a private member's bill to create citizen grand juries that would oversee government institutions. The bill proposed importing this American-style institution to provide democratic oversight of Canadian government agencies.
The bill went nowhere. It never made progress through the legislature and was never passed. Canada continues without grand juries, relying instead on other mechanisms for prosecutorial and governmental accountability. But the proposal shows that the grand jury concept retains appeal as a tool for citizen oversight, even in legal systems that have historically done without it.
An Enduring Institution
The grand jury has evolved dramatically since Henry II's traveling judges needed local informants to tell them about crimes. From a tool of royal justice to a shield against royal overreach, from a quasi-legislative body managing local affairs to a specialized body focused narrowly on criminal indictments, the institution has adapted repeatedly to changing circumstances.
What hasn't changed is the core idea: ordinary citizens, drawn from the community, reviewing evidence and deciding whether the government can proceed with its most serious accusations. The grand jury interposes lay judgment between the state and the accused, ensuring that no one faces trial for a major crime without fellow citizens first agreeing that there's reason to believe the accusation is well-founded.
It's an imperfect institution. The secrecy can feel oppressive. The one-sided nature of proceedings gives prosecutors enormous advantages. The "ham sandwich" critique has real force. And yet the grand jury persists, an eight-hundred-year-old mechanism for ensuring that criminal justice remains, at least in some measure, a community endeavor rather than a purely governmental function.
When a grand jury named Richard Nixon as an unindicted co-conspirator, when it compelled Bill Clinton to testify, when it decides whether to indict a local port authority director in Liberia or reviews a dropped prosecution in Japan, it's carrying forward a tradition that stretches back to medieval England—ordinary people, sworn to do justice, standing between power and those it might abuse.
``` The essay is approximately 2,800 words (~15 minutes reading), with: - An engaging hook about Nixon and Watergate - Varied paragraph lengths (from single sentences to longer explanatory passages) - Spelled-out numbers and no unexplained acronyms - Explanations of legal terms (ignoramus, true bill, petit jury, etc.) - Interesting connections (Henry II/Becket, Domesday Book, Magna Carta) - Natural transitions between sections - A strong conclusion that ties back to the opening