Review: This Jury Is Guilty by Laurie Blake
Hollywood's biggest movie star, Danny Scott, stands accused of trying to murder his wife, starlet Hope Harrison, in a case that has taken the world by storm. Everyone is What led to the events of that night, and what darker truths simmer beneath the surface of Danny and Hope's marriage? As the world watches, twelve sequestered jurors must decide Danny's fate. But even a jury has its secrets…
Juror 6 is risking everything for this trial. Even her life.
Juror 2 is playing games. But can he keep one step ahead of his own lies?
Juror 13, the alternate, will do anything to be on that jury. Anything.
Juror 7 is hardly noticed by anyone. Just as she planned.
As each juror vies for the verdict they want, secrets, obsessions, and plots for revenge will come to light in the stands. Because everyone is lying. Everyone is guilty. And one of them might be planning a murder of their own.
This one required me to suspend disbelief A LOT. We're talking multiple occasions where I found myself wondering whether the emotional payoff at the end was actually going to be worth all the nonsense I was putting up with. Spoiler alert: it wasn't. But I'll get to that in a second.
First, let's talk about the sheer number of characters we're expected to keep track of in this book. Because good lord, there are a LOT of them. Aside from the two attorneys, the accused, and the defendant, we have four jurors that we're actively hearing from: Dee, Michelle, Franny, and Rick. All four of them are lying, and all four have their own ulterior motives, because apparently serving on a jury isn't complicated enough without everyone having a secret agenda. Then there's Gloria, the guard responsible for shepherding the jurors back and forth, along with the other jurors: Allie, Brian, William, Simon, Tommy Lee, Zach, Sofia, and Freddie. There's also a second alternate who quits, and let's not forget John, a juror who may or may not have been murdered for no other reason than being juror number one. And why is that significant, you ask? Apparently, the author is under the impression that being juror number one automatically makes you the foreperson. Except that's not how it works. The foreperson is selected by the jury, not automatically assigned based on their selection number. But poor John apparently had to go so someone else could potentially become foreperson.
To be fair, I did appreciate that the author tried to give the background characters distinguishing traits and personalities rather than making them all interchangeable cardboard cutouts. Unfortunately, with this many people to keep track of, those efforts only went so far. Before long, I found myself struggling to remember who was who, and eventually, I stopped caring about anything they had to say unless it directly related to the case. And that's not exactly ideal when so much of the story depends on the jurors themselves.
Which brings me to my biggest problem with This Jury Is Guilty.
The entire story relies heavily on secrets, withheld information, and jurors behaving in increasingly implausible ways. Everyone has something to hide, everyone seems to have their own agenda, and we're repeatedly given reasons to question what these people are really up to. There's a lot of buildup, with characters behaving in certain ways and seemingly planting seeds to get the other jurors on board with their way of thinking. And then the author throws in an unexpected plot twist. Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE a good plot twist. Give me something clever that makes me rethink everything I've just read, and I'll happily sing its praises. But there's a difference between a twist that's genuinely surprising because the author has cleverly misdirected the reader, and one that's surprising because the idea is so ridiculous that it never even crossed your mind as a possibility. Unfortunately, this one fell firmly into the latter category. I didn't guess the twist because it was particularly clever or well-hidden or because the author had successfully led me down one path while carefully concealing the truth. No, I simply didn't guess it because it was too stupid to think anyone would actually do what was being suggested. And honestly? That felt like an insult to the reader.
What do you mean you've spent the entire book behaving a certain way, working to convince the other jurors to see things your way, and seemingly following a particular plan, only to abandon that plan at the very end of your time on the jury? What was the point of all that buildup if you're just going to throw it out the window when it suits you? I could maybe have accepted it if the reasoning behind the decision had been convincing, but it wasn't. Instead, the whole thing felt like halfway through the author changed their own mind on how they wanted things to end and needed a new way to get from point A to point B and decided that logic was apparently optional.
And all of this leads to a finale that is so spectacularly over-the-top and preposterous that I was left staring at my Kindle wondering what exactly I'd just spent hours reading. Remember when I said I kept questioning whether the emotional payoff would be worth it? This was the moment when I realized the answer was a resounding no. I don't mind suspending disbelief to enjoy a good thriller. I'm perfectly happy to go along with an implausible situation if the author can make it believable enough within the world they've created. But when I'm repeatedly questioning the decisions characters are making, struggling to keep track of who's who, and waiting for a payoff that never materializes, there comes a point where I simply can't be bothered anymore.
At some point, you have to give the reader something worthwhile in return for all that suspension of disbelief. A clever reveal. A satisfying conclusion. Something that makes all the twists, secrets, and questionable decisions feel like they were leading somewhere. Instead, I got an ending that left me thinking, Well, that's a couple hours of my life I'm never getting back.



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