Overview: The Kevin Epps murder trial in San Francisco reveals a court system that is tilted towards the prosecution’s table, with a nearly all-white jury judging a Black defendant. The witness testimony is shaped by the prosecution’s leading questions, and crucial contradictions are not addressed. The violent history of the alleged victim is kept from the jury, and the compensation incentive is not examined. The trial highlights the need for transparency and context in the pursuit of justice.
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California Victim Compensation Law – Gov. Code §13950 et seq.
When you sit inside Department 13 long enough, you begin to feel it — the slant of the room. Not the physical space, but the institutional weight, tilting slowly, almost imperceptibly, toward the prosecution’s table.
It’s a quiet kind of leaning, one that isn’t announced, but revealed in the rhythm of objections, the tone of the judge, and the way certain voices are encouraged while others are restrained.
On Friday, November 21, 2025, I felt that tilt more strongly than ever.
A Witness Called to Remember a Ghost
The witness on the stand was Star Gul, a woman who once loved — and feared — the alleged victim, Marcus Deleon Polk. She is not a loud woman. She does not command the room. More than once, Assistant District Attorney (ADA) Jonathan Schmidt nudged her:
“Please speak up.”
“Can you repeat that?”
“Use your words clearly.”
That alone told me something, she was not a confident narrator of her own past.
And yet, Schmidt pressed forward with a determination that felt rehearsed. Each question came with a subtle push, an implied answer embedded in the phrasing. He was leading her — repeatedly — and defense attorney Darlene Comstedt, called it out again and again.
Five objections.
Six.
Seven.
And nearly every one demolished by Judge Brian Ferrall, who sat above it all with an air of predestined certainty. The message was unmistakable:The prosecution deserves the runway. The defense must fight for yardage.
This is not balance — this is choreography.
A Memory Shaped by Pressure
The event in question occurred more than nine years ago. Nine years. Children have grown into teenagers in that time. Neighborhoods have changed. Entire parts of our lives fade or warp under that kind of distance.
But in this sterile courtroom, Schmidt tried to reconstruct the scene as if it were yesterday.
What emerged from Gul was not certainty — but suggestion.
Not clarity — but interpretation.
Yet, there was one moment of sharp detail, almost cinematic in how vividly it came through.
She said that when Marcus Polk entered the house, “He walked like Sherman Hemsley from The Jeffersons.”
Now, that’s not an ordinary descriptor — that’s a cultural memory. And as an older Black man myself, I knew exactly what she meant. Chest out.Arms swinging. That bold, proud, exaggerated strut.
Her description aligned with what the defense has long argued: Polk did not timidly enter that house — he sauntered in despite warnings not to.
A Contradiction That no one wanted to explore.
The prosecutor asked Star Gul if she feared Polk would kill her that day.
“No,” she said. But then she admitted she screamed at Polk not to go inside.
Why scream if you don’t fear him? Why panic if he poses no risk? And why—of all explanations—did she say this: “I screamed because I was afraid of what Kevin Epps would do to him.”
If there was no fear of Polk, why would you fear for Polk’s safety? This contradiction sat in the air like fog — visible, lingering, unaddressed.
The Question Never Asked: Who Might Benefit?
California law allows victims of violent crime or their families to apply for up to $45,000 in compensation—but only if a conviction occurs. No one has asked Star Gul about this. The jury has not been told this. The court has not explored whether this structural incentive might subconsciously shape testimony.
I am not saying she is lying. I am not saying she is motivated by financial gain. What I am saying is this: Justice requires transparency. Justice requires full context. Justice requires asking hard questions— especially when the stakes are life-changing.
A Room Tilted Too Far
Over the course of this trial, a pattern has emerged: A nearly all-white jury judging a Black defendant; a judge consistently overruling defense objections; a prosecutor rephrasing, redirecting, nudging, leading; a key witness whose memory has shifted over time; crucial contradictions given no sunlight; a violent history of Marcus Polk kept from the jury; a compensation incentive unexamined; and a nine-year-old case reconstructed by selective recollection.
This is not a courtroom seeking balance. This is a courtroom seeking closure — on the prosecution’s terms. And closure without truth is not justice. It is simply a verdict.
Why I Continue Showing Up
I am not here to exonerate Kevin Epps. I am not here to condemn Marcus Polk. I am not here to protect or attack any personality involved.
I am here for one reason: To ensure the people of San Francisco know exactly how their justice system behaves when they are not in the room.
I will keep attending. I will keep documenting. And I will keep pressing on contradictions, structural biases, and ethical omissions, because our community deserves the truth — not the polished narrative of a courtroom eager to move on.
Justice is not gentle. Justice is not passive. Justice is not silent. And neither am I.
This story is republished with the permission of Destination Freedom Media Group and The Davis Vanguard. Destination Freedom Media Group and the Davis Vanguard are solely responsible for its content.