THE words of the local taxi driver rang in my ears after the judge declared the Lindsay Clancy case a mistrial: “Welcome to America, where they turn abject tragedy into entertainment.”
After watching how the extraordinary five-week trial unfolded first-hand, I wasn’t surprised that the jury, made up of nine women and three men, were unable to come to a unanimous verdict.
The Jattvibe’s US Editor, Scarlet Howes outside the Plymouth Trial Court where Lindsay Clancy is on trial Credit: Jeff Rayner/Coleman-Rayner
Lindsay Clancy looks on on the day Judge William Sullivan declared a mistrial Credit: Reuters
It was chaos from the start.
The case is a family tragedy of almost unbearable dimensions.
A mother – described as a “caring” and “wonderful” midwife – strangled her three young children, ages five, three, and eight-months-old, using exercise bands while her husband was picking up food.
She then jumped from a second-storey window at the family’s Massachusetts home and survived but was left paralysed from the waist down.
Christine Fernandes, 48, and her daughter Elsie Medeiiros, 15, protest outside Plymouth Trial Court Credit: Jeff Rayner/Coleman-Rayner
A content creator films themselves outside court Credit: Jeff Rayner/Coleman-Rayner
Her defence team doesn’t deny that she killed her children in January 2023.
They argue that she cannot be held criminally responsible because she was in the grip of postpartum psychosis, overmedicated, and failed by the very mental health system she had turned to for help.
Lindsay apparently heard a voice who told her to hurt herself and her kids.
The prosecution, however, says Lindsay made a calculated, intentional decision to kill her children.
And all of it – the sobbing defendant, the autopsy testimony, the grieving father on the stand – was streamed live for avid true crime fans to watch.
The trial, as a result, attracted the obsessive attention of amateur sleuths and armchair detectives who picked apart every detail and turned it into whodunit content.
Wild conspiracy theories swirled on TikTok and Instagram as people blamed her husband Patrick Clancy, claiming he was the real killer who had framed her.
This was despite CCTV footage and phone records placing him outside of the home during the killings.
Lindsey Clansy with her former partner Patrick Clancy Credit: Facebook
Clancy’s three children, Cora, Dawson and baby Callan were strangled in the basement of their Duxbury, Massachusetts home on January 24, 2023 Credit: Facebook
Content creators also dissected courtroom footage, Lindsay’s body temperature at the time, and her Apple Watch details.
Lindsay’s lawyer Kevin Reddington became an unlikely hero and his “best moments” were clipped up to be shared by hundreds of people who supported her.
The parallel trial began to leak into the real one after Reddington tried to call a former mental health hospital employee as a witness after he found her through a viral TikTok where she criticised the facility.
As the jury spent seven days deliberating, people began to travel to Plymouth Trial Court to voice their opinion on what they thought the verdict should be.
Mum Christine Fernandes, 48, wearing three exercise bands around her neck, brought her 15-year-old daughter Elsie to protest outside the court.
Holding a “First Degree Murder, Stop The Nonsense” sign, she told me: “I watched the trial from the beginning.
“It caught my attention as I could relate to it in some way, shape, or form as I suffered from postpartum and I was on medications.
“It didn’t make sense to me and I needed to get to the bottom of it.”
She then proceeded to go into detail about what she believed had happened – labelling Lindsay as guilty because she had “evil eyes”.
Her teenage daughter chimed in: “It’s just morally wrong.”
Christine added: “She never reported any voices.
“She never did.
Lindsay Clancy looks on as jurors enter the courtroom during her murder trial on September 4 Credit: AFP
Kevin Reddington talks with Lindsay Clancy after a jury question during deliberations on September 3 Credit: Reuters
“I think in this situation the prosecution has the more difficult job as they have to do all the work to show that she was aware of what she was doing.
“I’m wearing exercise bands to remind people that three innocent little kids lost their lives that can’t defend themselves.
“It’s disgusting how a mother can do that and then attach an excuse to it to benefit her.
“It has turned the trial into a joke.”
Later that day, after the jury were sent home yet again, Christine screamed to the media and supporters that Lindsay’s lawyer Reddington was “scum”.
She became embroiled in an argument with another mum, who was on Lindsay’s side, and who had also brought her child along.
I had two questions.
Why were these children not in school and is this really an appropriate place to bring them?
I was ignored, however, as they loudly battled one another in a circle akin to the boxing ring.
Onlookers gathered and TikTokers made sure to film it, delighted that they had something to stream to their fans.
At one point, the kid, who looked no older than 10-years-old, told Christine: “Shut your yapper. You don’t know anything.”
In a moment that summed up the atmosphere outside the courtroom, Christine stopped her ranting to tell cameras her name (she even spelt it) and age, just in case they needed it.
TikTok Vloggers are turning the whole trial into a circus Credit: Jeff Rayner/Coleman-Rayner
Vloggers scramble for space to film as they stream to viewers outside court Credit: Jeff Rayner/Coleman-Rayner
It was unlike any court case I had witnessed in the UK.
Here, people were desperate for exposure, whether that be to get themselves on telly, or to gain new followers.
Melissa Merrill, who was spending seven-hours a day live-streaming the outside of the courthouse to TokTok, said she had started with a modest 2,000 followers and had now gained 10,000.
The next day, which happened to be the third day of jury deliberations, 13,000 people were watching.
I interviewed Melissa while she was live on TikTok to that audience (she often stopped to check her comments and speak intermittently to them).
She said she was supporting Lindsay, explaining: “This is touching a lot of mums.
“I had postpartum depression and there’s a stigma around it and mental health.
“Everyone wants to be a picture-perfect mum and it’s harder to admit when you need help as a parent.
“This case has opened up the door to that communication.”
When Melissa spent time in the courtroom – where her livestreaming wasn’t allowed – her 20-year-old son Josh would take over.
I asked him why it was interesting for viewers to watch an empty building? He then asked them my question and they instantly responded.
Josh said: “They want justice.
Patrick Clancy on the stand during the Lindsay Clancy murder trial at Plymouth Superior Court on July 29 Credit: AP
Lindsay Clancy holds her head in her hands as her former partner Patrick testifies in her trial Credit: Reuters
“They want to know what is going on.
“They want opinions and commentary.
“They want to know what is going through people’s minds.
“It’s all opinion-based.”
Melissa was just one of dozens who had travelled across the US to spend their entire days filming non-stop commentary on the developments.
When Lindsay’s lawyer Reddington left the courthouse everyday, they would also become part of the media scrum, clambering to show viewers his face and competing to ask a question.
At one point, the day before the judge declared a mistrial, it became so frenzied that we were almost crushed in the swarm, with nobody able to move, as TikTokers pushed their way to the front to hug Reddington.
One press photographer, who had been bashed to the point he had fallen to the ground, muttered: “This isn’t normal.”
Reddington himself became somewhat of a celebrity with supporters flocking outside the courthouse in the hope of catching a glimpse of him, telling him that he was an icon, and even giving him presents.
One woman said she had been there every day since the trial ended to tell him what an “incredible human being he was” and hopefully get a selfie with him.
She was dressed in a pink top alongside hundreds of other women who wore the slogan “Peace For Lindsay” to show her they were on her side.
Reddington speaks to media after the judge declared a mistrial Credit: AP
Defense attorney Kevin Reddington reacts to the judge’s decision to declare a mistrial Credit: Reuters
As the deliberations wrapped up, I decided to join the masses and try my hand at livestreaming.
With a meagre 200 followers on TikTok, I wasn’t hopeful that I would get any attention, but to my surprise after an hour of streaming outside the courtroom, I had over 600 viewers.
That became 9,000 views by the time I finished 90 minutes later.
I had to be careful, of course, not to answer questions about what my own opinion was, but I discussed the possibility of a mistrial and told viewers what was going on inside.
This was the moment that Reddington had dramatically asked the judge to remove a juror who he believed was not following the law in regards to reasonable doubt.
The jury was split 11-1.
The judge, however, refused.
People argued in the comments and they rightly told me that I was wrong when I mistook Reddington for the district attorney Tim Cruz.
But dare I say, I started to see the point of these livestreams.
I revelled in the interaction, delighted in answering the questions and experienced the thrill of having a new person watching.
On Friday, when the jury handed a note to the judge to say that they were still deadlocked, and the public awaited the formal ruling of a mistrial, the US media joined in on the spectacle.
A CNN anchor began to cry as she discussed how the children were killed and a legal analyst tried to coin the catchphrase: “The deadlock on Plymouth Rock.”
Now prosecutors will decide whether they want to try the case again.
Let’s hope next time around things will be, as my cabbie aptly put it, a little less farcical.
