Five of the special grand jurors investigating interference in Georgia’s 2020 elections spoke to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, including details of a previously unreported Trump call, this one asking then Speaker David Ralston asking him to convene a special session of the Legislature to...
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EXCLUSIVE: Behind the scenes of the Trump grand jury
The bomb-sniffing dog was new. The special grand jurors investigating interference in Georgia’s 2020 elections hadn’t before seen that level of security on the third floor of the Fulton County courthouse where they had been meeting in secret for nearly eight months.
Fulton law enforcement was taking no chances on that unseasonably warm December day, concerned about who might turn up to protect Flynn, a prominent figure among far-right, conspiracy theorist and Christian nationalist groups. Outside, on the courthouse steps, sheriffs’ deputies and marshals carrying automatic weapons
kept watch.
No bomb was found. Flynn, who was ultimately the last witness jurors heard testimony from, went on to assert his Fifth Amendment rights and refused to answer many of prosecutors’ questions.
But the experience brought home to some jurors just how important and consequential their work could be.
How we reported this story
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution interviewed five members of the special purpose grand jury to gain a better understanding of its workings. All five — three men and two women — spoke on the condition of not being named because of concerns about their safety and privacy. It is also the AJC’s policy not to publish the identities of jurors without their permission.
The jurors’ identities have been a closely guarded secret. The AJC confirmed their service using pay stubs from Fulton Superior Court, the special grand jury handbook given to them on selection day and other court documents.
The jurors discussed details surrounding their eight months on the panel but declined to talk about their internal deliberations or share their indictment recommendations.
In an exclusive interview with The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, five of the 23 special grand jurors recounted what it was like to be a pivotal — but anonymous — part of one of the most momentous criminal investigations in U.S. history; one which could lead to indictments of former President Donald Trump and his allies.
“One of the most important things we’ll be a part of in our life was this eight month process that we did,” one juror told the AJC. It was “incredibly important to get it right.”
Over two hours, in a windowless conference room, the jurors shared never-before-heard details about their experiences serving on the panel, which met in private, often three times a week.
They described a process that was by turns fascinating, tedious and emotionally wrenching. One juror said she would cry in her car at the end of the day after hearing from witnesses whose lives had been upended by disinformation and claims of election fraud.
For months, they were unable to talk to friends, family members and co-workers about what they were doing. They said the overall panel was diverse, with different races, economic backgrounds and political viewpoints represented.
Many emerged with heightened respect for election workers and others who kept the state’s voting integrity intact.
‘I took it very seriously’
The grand jury was
dissolved in January after submitting its final report.
The jurors who spoke to the AJC declined to talk about portions of the document which remain under seal, including who they recommended Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis indict. They also remained mum on their internal deliberations. In a
previous interview with the AJC, jury foreperson Emily Kohrs said “it’s not a short list” when asked how many people the special grand jury suggested be indicted. (Kohrs was not among the jurors the AJC interviewed for this article.)
Several jurors said they decided to speak out for the first time in response to criticism leveled at the probe after Kohrs spoke to multiple media outlets last month. Some detractors, including Trump’s Georgia-based legal team, said that Kohrs’ remarks showcased an unprofessional, politically tainted criminal investigation.
The jurors, who stressed their aim was not to drag down Kohrs, underscored that they understood the gravity of their assignment and took care to be active participants and attend as many sessions as possible. They said the investigation was somber and thorough.
“I just felt like we, as a group, were portrayed as not serious,” one of the jurors said. “That really bothered me because that’s not how I felt. I took it very seriously. I showed up, did what I was supposed to do, did not do what I was asked not to do, you know?”
Their friendly rapport was also evident throughout the interview, as jurors at times cracked inside jokes and teased one another. They indicated they held the DA’s team of prosecutors and investigators in high regard.
They also divulged details from the investigation that had yet to become public.
One was that they had heard a recording of a phone call Trump placed to late Georgia House Speaker David Ralston in which the president asked the fellow Republican to convene a special session of the legislature to overturn Democrat Joe Biden’s narrow victory in Georgia.
One juror said Ralston proved to be “an amazing politician.”
The speaker “basically cut the president off. He said, ‘I will do everything in my power that I think is appropriate.’ … He just basically took the wind out of the sails,” the juror said. “‘Well, thank you,’ you know, is all the president could say.”
Ralston and
other legislative leaders did not call a special session. A former Ralston aide declined to comment for this story, and a Trump campaign spokesman did not respond to a request for comment.
‘I’m never gonna be on time ever again’
The Fulton County residents who would become grand jurors first reported to the courthouse on May 2, 2022. Some had no idea what they were in for.
One remembered looking at her phone the morning of jury selection to see an alert from Channel 2 Action News warning about road closures downtown due to selection of the Trump special grand jury. After some quick online searching, she realized what could be in store.
“I emailed my boss and I was like, I’m gonna be out a little bit longer than I probably thought today,” she said.
They arrived to a courthouse under lockdown.
The Fulton Sheriff’s Office had blocked off vehicle traffic on the surrounding streets and stationed deputies with assault rifles at the building’s main entrance. The emptiness inside created an eerie feeling.
Two-hundred Fulton residents were summoned, but Fulton County Judge Robert McBurney whittled down the pool quickly. He asked only two questions: did they have any conflicts and could they keep an open mind?
Would-be jurors were assigned numbers based on the order in which they arrived at the courthouse. Those picked — 23 jurors and three alternates — were the early birds.
“I’m never gonna be on time ever again,” one juror joked.
After briefly introducing themselves, jurors were tasked with selecting a foreperson who would sign subpoenas and administer the oath to witnesses.
Kohrs, 30, quickly volunteered for the position. Despite having never voted, she was interested in politics and the legal process and knew she could devote more time than many others because she was between jobs.
No one stepped up to challenge Kohrs, though one juror considered nominating the panel’s lone lawyer. The lawyer agreed to serve as deputy foreperson, jurors said.
After their work that day was done, jurors were silently led through tunnels to the courthouse basement, walking past a SWAT team stationed in the hallways to armored vans that took them to their off-site cars.
“It was the haunted house of SWAT,” one juror said.
For others, that’s when the gravity of their assignment hit home.
“We knew it was big, but as they were leading us out, then that’s when it hit. I was like, holy moly,” one said.
After that first day the jurors received no special security as they reported to and from the courthouse, carrying bag lunches. Many would walk through the front entrance, past the bay of cameras waiting for A-list witnesses, praying that the news media wouldn’t figure out why they were there.
‘We can do business with that’
The DA’s office gave each juror a binder, which quickly grew swollen with notes. They rarely had advance notice of who would be testifying. Instead, they would file in a little before 9 a.m., taking their usual seats in the three rows of chairs which had been arranged in a large conference room, and be handed a piece of paper with the name and photo of the day’s witness.
Their first order of business was to make sure they had a quorum. When special prosecutor Nathan Wade received a number of 16 or more, he’d say, “We can do business with that,” a phrase the grand jury wove into their final report as a nod to Wade.
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