Sure, you’ve got the victim’s family and the family of the defendant. You’ve got jurors who handed over six months of their lives to hear testimony and see evidence and make a tough call. You’ve got the prosecutors and defense lawyers. But in the end, the people I really feel for in the Scott Peterson case are the spectators. No more titillation. No more rage on behalf of someone they didn’t know and would never have cared about save for her dreadful fate. No more hatred for a suspect they likewise didn’t know. No more poring over testimony and gossip. No more jockeying for what one news outlet called “the 27 coveted public seats inside the courtroom,” where they could see the monster himself, or the grieving mothers, or the juror with the orange hair. No more booing and cursing the suspect’s family. No more cameras to show off for or reporters to impress.
But it’s not the end of the world. There’s always the execution to look forward to.