Episode 1 Transcript
Jury Duty

Sequestered: A Juror’s Perspective on the Murder Trial of Jasmine Pace 

Episode 1: Jury Duty​

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Sequestered.

It's not a word I ever thought would describe my life, but for nine days it did. My phone was taken away. I couldn't talk to my family, and every decision about where I went, what I ate, and even how I spent my free time was made for me. I was isolated, not just from the world, but from the life I knew.

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Yet, as I reflect on the trial, I can't help but think that Jasmine Pace, in her own way, was sequestered too—separated from her family, her friends, and ultimately, her future. What happened to Jasmine wasn't just tragic; it was cruel. And now, it was up to 12 strangers, including me, to find the truth and seek justice for her.

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(news clip)

We want her home, and we want her safe.

"Jasmine Pace hasn't been seen since November 22. Chattanooga Police are investigating the case as a missing person. Police say she may have turned to a boyfriend she met several months ago on a dating app to help her grieve. They believe she may be with that boyfriend."

Jasmine was a vibrant young woman, just 22 years old. She had her whole life ahead of her, but in November of 2022, she went missing. Her family and friends searched desperately for her, plastering her photo across social media and the local news. It didn't take long for the town of Chattanooga to rally behind them, hoping for her safe return. But this story didn't have the ending anyone hoped for.

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Days later, her body was discovered, and the man accused of her murder—her boyfriend, Jason Chen—was arrested. What followed was a trial that shook the community and changed my life forever.

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Chattanooga isn't a place you'd expect to be the center of such a chilling story. It's a picturesque town nestled between the mountains and the Tennessee River, known for its charm and beauty. But in the courtroom, I saw a different side of this city—one filled with grief, anger, and a determination for justice.

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This podcast isn't just about the trial. It's about Jasmine. It's about the people who loved her and the strangers who fought for her. It's about the experience of being sequestered, both as a juror and a human being. And it's about the choices we make when the weight of justice rests on our shoulders.

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This is Sequestered: A Juror's Perspective on the Murder Trial for Jasmine Pace. I'm Sara, Juror #11. Each episode, I'll take you inside the courtroom, behind the scenes, and into the weighty moments of this trial as we honor Jasmine's life and navigate the complexities of seeking justice.

Let's begin.

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Episode 1: Jury Duty

In October 2024, I was caught off guard by a voicemail from the Davidson County Courthouse Jury Services Division.

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"Our records indicate that you were scheduled..."

The message informed me that I had failed to report for jury duty. Jury duty. I had never even received a summons. Unsure of how this had happened, I quickly followed the court's instructions, filling out the necessary information online to rectify the situation.

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Over the next several weeks, life moved on as I traveled to New Zealand and Australia for work. But when I returned home and dove into the daunting task of catching up on unopened mail, there it was: Jury Duty, clear as day. I stared at the envelope, unaware of how profoundly it would shape the weeks to come.

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The holidays and New Year's celebrations came and went, and before I knew it, 2024 had ended. By January 8, 2025, I found myself walking into the Davidson County Courthouse in Nashville, Tennessee, joining 117 other potential jurors in a large, featureless room filled with rows of chairs. I chose a seat toward the back, pulled out my phone, and prepared to settle in. It was clear we were going to be here for a while.

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Some people milled around the coffee station at the front of the room, pouring from a large carafe and stirring in powdered creamer before retreating to their seats. Others were engrossed in books, tapping on laptops, or scrolling mindlessly on their phones. A few small groups formed, exchanging grumbles about how this unexpected civil duty was disrupting their day. The air was thick with a shared sense of impatience and uncertainty as we waited for our names to be called.

We sat in the room for what felt like ages before a couple of important-looking men called the first several rows to stand. One man barked instructions about the third floor and then escorted the group toward a set of elevators. At least half of the room had departed by this point, leaving the rest of us to wait.

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Hours later, I found myself seated on a wooden pew in the gallery of a courtroom. I chose a spot near the back in the second row to the last. The remaining potential jurors filled the other pews, and the two back rows were reserved for what I assumed were family members connected to the case.

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The courtroom had a sense of quiet gravity. At the front of the room, I immediately noticed the judge, the bailiff, and other administrative staff moving with reverence. The defense team was seated at a table facing the jury box, an attorney seated on either side of the man I quickly identified as the defendant. His name, I would soon learn, was Jason Chen.

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Chen appeared in the courtroom with a reserved demeanor. He had a slender build, short black hair, glasses, and was dressed neatly in professional attire. To me, he seemed nervous, though he maintained a calm and composed presence. His body language was restrained but alert.

In this courtroom, the jury box was positioned across from the defense table with General Wamp and the prosecuting team seated to the right, directly across from them. Presiding over the courtroom with calm authority was Judge Patterson.

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It was clear to me at this point in the day that the process was already well underway. In the jury box, 16 potential jurors occupied two rows of sleek black office chairs. Each chair was padded and noticeably comfortable. Just in front of them, another five potential jurors were seated in a single row of less accommodating chairs—a stark contrast to the cushy ones behind them.

To me, the arrangement highlighted the orderly and deliberate structure of the selection process, underscoring the weight of the task at hand.

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The orderly process continued, with potential jurors being called forward one by one. What followed was a strategic and methodical process, with both sides volleying eliminations, excusing jurors one by one. Slowly, those seated in the less comfortable seats were called forward to fill the more prominent jury chairs, and new names were summoned to replenish the front row. It was a delicate game of musical chairs, each step bringing the trial one step closer to beginning in earnest.

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Just before our lunch break, my name was called.

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What followed lunch on that day was a blur of events that seemed to happen in mere minutes. My seat was promptly upgraded to what I referred to as the "first class" section in the jury box. The legal teams returned to their sticky notes, deliberating once again, and before I had fully processed what was happening, Judge Patterson had announced that the jury had been selected.

The remaining potential jurors were excused from service, and the final 16—12 primary jurors and 4 alternates—were officially sworn in to serve for the trial. With that, we were whisked away into a jury room tucked behind the courtroom where we received our official instructions.

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"Ladies and gentlemen, you have been selected to serve as jurors in this case. Because of the nature of this trial, you will be sequestered in Chattanooga for the duration of the proceedings. This means that you will be isolated from the public and certain outside influences to ensure that you remain impartial and base your verdict solely on the evidence presented in the courtroom."

Judge Patterson's instructions continued with clear guidelines meant to protect the integrity of the trial.

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"You must avoid any contact with the media, news outlets, or anyone who is not directly involved in this trial. Do not read, watch, or listen to any news reports about this case or conduct your own research. You may not discuss this case with family, friends, coworkers, or even among yourselves until you are directed by the judge."

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"You will stay in accommodations arranged by the court during your time there. You will be supervised by deputies from the Chattanooga Police Department at all times to ensure compliance with these instructions. Your phones, computers, and other electronic devices will be collected and securely stored. You will be allowed one five-minute phone call once per day. Contact information for the bailiff will be provided in case your family needs to communicate with you for any urgent reason."

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"Remember, the purpose of sequestration is to protect the fairness of the trial and to ensure that your verdict is based only on the evidence and testimony presented. Your role is critical, and I thank you for your service and dedication to this important responsibility."

With that, we were excused.

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Next Time on Sequestered

The trial begins with shocking opening statements that set a defining tone. We'll hear from a mother desperate for answers and an investigator determined to uncover the truth. This is just the beginning.

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We'll see you in the next episode.

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Thank you for listening to Sequestered: A Juror's Perspective on the Murder Trial for Jasmine Pace. Each episode brings us closer to understanding the trial, the people involved, and the weight of seeking justice. If this story speaks to you, please follow, share, and continue the conversation with us. Jasmine's story deserves to be remembered.

This is a BP production. The show is written, edited, and produced by me, Sara Reid, with co-production by Andrea Kleid. News clips featured in this episode were sourced from WTVC News Channel Nine, Local Three News Chattanooga, and the Law and Crime Network. Music and sound design are curated to reflect the gravity and sensitivity of this story, with the intent to honor Jasmine, her family, and the community affected by her death.

For more information or to connect with us, visit SequesteredPod.com or follow us on Instagram at @sequesteredpod.

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Thank you for listening. Until next time, stay curious and stay safe.

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