Transcript: Jodi Arias speaks to jury on May 21, 2013, in death penalty phase (videos)

On May 21, 2013, Jodi Arias addressed the jury to expound upon mitigating factors in a prepared statement and photo presentation where she shared a bit about her family background, talents and ways she feels she could contribute to
Jodi Arias reads statement to jury on May 21, 2013
the bettering of humanity should she be allowed to live.

You may watch the full video of Jodi Arias' statement as well as the transcript below.

Many people have expressed feeling that Jodi Arias was disconnected to the jurors, her crime and the grief she caused Travis Alexander's family. She continued to present herself as a domestic abuse victim and has yet to utter the simple words to Travis Alexander's family, "I'm sorry I killed Travis."

Arias has repeatedly stated she is sorry for her mistakes, sorry for what happened that day, but has never outright said she is sorry she killed Travis Alexander.

One woman who responded following Jodi Arias' statement on HLN spoke to Jane Velez-Mitchell and said that Jodi Arias had no soul. It's easy to make such a statement or judgment because Jodi Arias does not display normal emotions. She does not have normal emotional responses when faced with her victims, her family, the jury whom she needs to beg mercy from, when reflecting upon her crime, or even when she was answering questions from Juan Martinez.

One area that I find rather interesting and completely neglected in this trial is Jodi Arias' mental health and spiritual state. While Jodi Arias' religious faith as a Mormon entered the trial, there were vague glimpses into her past that show a much troubled religious indoctrination. Arias lived with a self-proclaimed vampire, believed the world would end when a Bible thumping street preacher told her it would, dabbled in witchcraft, became a Mormon and followed the teaching that she could change her destiny with her mind from the teachings in the book The Secret by Rhonda Byrne.

 A symptom of demonic possession is supernatural strength and one could easily argue that Arias exhibited supernatural strength when she stabbed Travis Alexander 29 times, slit his throat from ear to ear, dragged his body down a hallway, shoved him in a shower stall all within 2 minutes. But, without looking to a spiritual cause for Jodi Arias' disaffect towards Travis Alexander, a man she told the jury repeatedly she loved, it is clear to see there is something wrong with Jodi Arias' mental health.

An aspect that is noticeably missing from Jodi Arias' character is humility. This woman doesn't have one shred of humility in anything about her. From her arrest and wanting to clean herself up, to refusing to issue a direct apology to Travis' family, Arias exudes pride and self love.

There isn't one ounce of a humble spirit in Jodi Arias, the key ingredient in those who profess to love God and follow Jesus Christ.

In fact, everything about Jodi Arias is just the opposite. So for those who feel that Jodi Arias has no soul, it is an understandable remark. When you consider how much writing Jodi Arias did on God, Jesus, religion and faith, it makes you wonder just what in the world she was getting from religion in the first place. She obviously never heard love your neighbor, love others more than yourself or turn the other cheek.

Not only is Jodi Arias proud and arrogant, but she has no remorse.

The simple truth is that she hasn't apologized for killing Travis Alexander because she ISN'T sorry for killing Travis Alexander.

She's sorry that Travis Alexander didn't behave the way that she wanted him to, therefore in her mind, she is justified in killing him.

So, what do you think? Is Jodi Arias evil, demon possessed or mentally ill?




Jodi Arias Statement: Transcript


Jodi Arias: Some months back, while the first phase of this trial was ongoing, my mom visited me, just like she had been doing every week since this trial began. She told me that after leaving the courthouse she was idling at a stop light, and she happened to look over at the car next to her. Travis' siblings were in that car. My mom and I were silent for a few moments. When she finally voiced exactly what I was thinking. She said, "I know they are going through hell."

Yet nothing drove that point home for me more than when I heard them speak last week. I never meant to cause them so much pain.

When Steven said he read on Travis' 3 x 5 card that it said "Call Steven" and that he had never got that call I know that is because of me. And when Samantha showed us the last picture that she took with Travis I know that is because of me that that will always be the last picture that she will ever take with Travis.

Throughout this trial I have avoided looking at Travis' family for a variety of reasons that I will not go to. I wondered, where is his grandma. Is she here? I didn't learn until last week what happened to her. Samantha said that Travis was the glue to their family. Around Thanksgiving in 2007 Travis called me. He was really upset. He said his grandmother was ill and frail and that he didn't know if she was going to make it. He said he didn't know what the family would do if she didn't make it because she was the glue to their family. To know that they are both gone and to know that I may also have inadvertently induced her passing destroys me.

Every time I have had the thought or desire to commit suicide there is one element that has almost always caused me to waiver. They are sitting right over there. They are my family. At times, I lost track of that element. For example, the incident I testified to when I took my razor apart at the jail. I managed to convince myself that they would get over the pain with time and that in the long run I was doing them a favor by unburdening them of my presence in their lives. I wrote a bunch of them good-bye letters addressed specifically to each person. And in the letters I didn't focus so much on explanations but on how much and why I loved each of them.

And then I wrote a general explanatory letter to help them understand my decision. At that time, I saw it as taking myself off of life support. I didn't know a lot of anything about prison at that time and I didn't think it was fair to expect my family to have to support me for the rest of my life. I didn't know then that if I got life instead of death I could become employed and self-reliant. I didn't know that if I got life, there were many things I can do to effect positive change and contribute in a meaningful way. In prison, there are programs I can start and people I can help and programs that I can continue to participate in.

I'll share a few examples that I thought of. A few months before trial, and by that I mean jury selection, my hair was past my waist and I donated it to Locks of Love, a nonprofit, which creates wigs for cancer patients who lost their hair. In fact, that was my third donation to that organization since I was arrested. If I'm allowed to live in prison, I will continue to donate to that organization for the rest of my life.

Over the years I've spent in incarceration, I received many requests from women to teach them Spanish or American Sign Language. Because my case was pending, I just didn't have the time.

I'll share a few examples that I thought of. A few months before trial, and by that I mean jury selection, my hair was past my waist and I donated it to Locks of Love, a nonprofit, which creates wigs for cancer patients who lost their hair. In fact, that was my third donation to that organization since I was arrested. If I'm allowed to live in prison, I will continue to donate to that organization for the rest of my life.

Over the years I've spent in incarceration, I've received many requests from women to teach them Spanish or American sign language. Because my case was pending, I just didn't have the time. In prison I will. If I'm sentenced to life, I will live among the general population of women and I'll be able to share my knowledge of those subjects with them, the ones who have a desire to learn also. I may even be able to start classes.

If I get permission, I'd like to implement a recycling program. The women's prison in Goodyear houses thousands of women and each week huge loads of waste are hauled off to a landfill. A substantial portion of that could be kept out of a landfill and recycled instead. It may even create new jobs for the people there. This is one small thing that could have a far-reaching and positive impact on the community and on the planet.

There is a higher rate of illiteracy in prison than in everyday society. I know that reading has enriched my life by expanding my knowledge base and opening my eyes to new worlds and different cultures. I can help other women become literate so that they too can add that dimension to their lives. Along the lines of literacy, I'd like to start a book club or a reading group. Something that brings people together in a positive and constructive way so that we can share and recommend other good books and stimulate discussions of a higher nature.

Additionally, I designed a t-shirt -- this is the t-shirt -- which 100 percent of the proceeds go to support non-profit organizations which also assist other victims of domestic violence. Some people may not believe that I am a survivor of domestic violence. They're entitled to their opinion. I'm supporting this cause because it's very, very important to me.

These are only a handful of examples. I've never been to prison. I don't know from personal experience what it's like there. But I'm certain that after I arrive, I'll likely find many other ways in which I can contribute to the women there. I would like to share with you now a few things about me and a few things about my family.

When I was little, my mom took a lot of pictures of me. I'm the first child. She had her camera everywhere and she would take a lot of pictures of me when I was first born. Salinas is near the coast and it's seen a lot of overcast days, but when it was sunny she would take me out to the backyard and turn on the sprinkler so I could play. That's me attempting to dress myself.

A few years later, Carl came along, my little brother, and we became inseparable. When we were little, my parents took us everywhere, including Sea World, here, and Hawaii. But my fondest memories with him are of us goofing off at home on a lazy Saturday just making a mess of the living room in our pajamas.

When I was 11 years old, and this slide is backward, I apologize. When I was 11 years old, my little sister Angela was born four weeks early. (INAUDIBLE). I was so excited to have a baby sister. I watched my mom's stomach grow. I watched Angela come into this world. And after the doctor swaddled her, he turned to me and said -- my mom said, do you want to hold her first?

These are various school pictures. And on occasions my family and I would get together for family portraits such as these. In ninth grade my family and I moved back to Yreka, but I still went back to Santa Maria periodically to visit friends.

This is Patty. She was my best friend for years. She was here last week to testify on my behalf, as you heard Mr. Nurmi tell you in opening statements, but she didn't return today because she and her nine-year-old daughter were threatened and harassed if she came back to the state.

I'm 21 years old here. After I moved out of my parents' house at age 17, my relationship with my dad improved a little. This is my grandma and her twins. My aunt is on the left, my mom is on the right. These were my parents when they were just a little bit younger. This is Bobby and I. A little out of order chronologically.

We're hanging out in our dirty little run down house, mind you, that I had mentioned previously. At times we lived there without power and phone. The winterers were freezing. We could see our breath inside the house. My parents did not support this relationship. And we were young and just trying to figure out life on our own.

When this picture -- when I see this picture, I'm reminded of that quote by Charles Dickens when he says, "they were the best of times, they were the worst of times." We're smiling here in the picture (INAUDIBLE) that. It was a difficult relationship, but Bobby will always, always be special to me.

I'm 21 here. This is a photo of Matt McCartney and I taken a few months after we broke up, a few months after he moved down to Big Sur where I was working at the time. As you know, we remain friends. And on this day when your life  (INAUDIBLE). Darryl and I began seeing each other a little over a year after that. In this photo I'm coming out of a red-headed stage that I went through for a few years.

This is one of my favorite pictures of Darryl and me. We were actually both working at a restaurant in Monterey where our friend Tony and his band were playing blues and reggae live. He dedicated songs to us and we danced. Darryl was a good dancer. When we began dating, we started a yearly tradition. It was, we'd go camping every summer at this remote little campground. It's called Kirk Creek. It's down at Big Sur. It is an area that the locals called "the south coast."

This is Darryl, Jack and I at the time. It's hard to see in this photo, but the ocean is in the background. It's on the terrace. After we bought our house in Palm Desert, we sought out some snow in the nearby mountain that first winter. We settled in and made a little life for ourselves from that span of time. Jack was always with us on the weekends. He took that picture of me.

I made friends with my co-workers and sometimes we'd go out after a shift just to chill and hang out. Darryl and Jack and I did a lot of things together. Here we rode the aerial tram in Palm Springs to the top of the (INAUDIBLE) Mountain. Darryl's ex-wife took this picture. We were all at Chuck E. Cheese's celebrating Jack's 7th birthday. Jack and I bonded. He's a great kid. I haven't seen him since June 3, 2008. I hear he's much bigger now, taller than me.

My family and I still got together periodically for group portraits. These were taken at a park in Yreka. In 2010, my little sister gave birth to this beautiful little girl on the right. The tiny premature baby that I witnessed come into this world now has a baby of her own. She is a mature, responsible, dedicated mother. She is also engaged to a wonderful man. And his daughter, this gorgeous girl on the left, is my niece's new big sister.

I've met these girls only through a thick pane of glass. They get along, but they've always known each other. I won't be at my sister's wedding when she ties the knot next year. And I won't be at - I won't be her wedding photographer like we had always talked about.

The same is true for my brother, Carl. The boy I grew up with became a family man. He and his wife married in 2010. I wasn't there to celebrate with them and I wasn't there to take their pictures and I have no one to blame but myself.

A few weeks before trial, they welcomed this precious little baby into the world. I haven't met her yet. Until a few weeks ago, I had huge hopes of becoming a part of these girls' lives some day. My nieces are the closest I'll ever come to motherhood because I'm not going to have children of my own. I'm not going to become a mother. Because of my own terrible choices, I've had to lay that dream to rest.

You've heard before that I'm an artist. As it now stands, I'll never create another oil painting. But these are some of my drawings. I'm pretty good with hands and nature, but I like to do portraits. There's Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, Elizabeth Taylor. This picture is a little distorted. This is my niece when she was a bit younger playing the piano. Well, attempting to play the piano.

My family and I have a lot of memories, especially ones like this at Christmas. We won't be creating anymore of these kinds of memories together. This is how I used to spend the holidays, with my family.

It was Carl's idea to hold my portrait in this Christmas family portrait taken a few years ago. My parents were there. My siblings were there. My brother's wife was there. From now on, this is how my family's going to spend the holidays with me.

Following my arrest, I wanted so much to avoid trial, not necessarily the outcome, although that's naturally not something I was looking forward to, but trial. All of the graphic, mortifying, horrific details paraded out into a public arena. Instead, I was hoping to go quietly into the night, whether off to prison or the next life. But with the amount of attention my case received early on, I felt in my ignorance that it was necessary to speak out. I got on TV and I lied. I lied about what I did and I lied about the nature of my relationship with Travis.

It's never been my intention to malign his name or character. In fact, it was a goal of mine to preserve his reputation. I didn't want to drag out Travis' skeletons or mine and explain my experiences with him. I didn't want to unveil all those ugly text messages and e-mails and that awful tape. All these things which now stand as a public and permanent testimony of the darker aspects of our relationship to 18 strangers, in front of Travis' family, in front of my family, in front of what feels like the whole world.

It's never been my intention to throw mud on Travis' name. When I took the stand, I was obligated to answer the questions posed to me. And if you'll remember, many times I was quick to defend him in the same breath. I loved Travis and I looked up to him. At one point, he was the world to me.

This is the worst mistake of my life. It's the worst thing I've ever done. It's the worst thing I ever could have seen myself doing. In fact, I couldn't have seen myself doing it. Before that day, I wouldn't even want to harm a spider. I'd gather them up in cups and put them outside.

To this day, I can hardly believe I was capable of such violence, but I know that I was. And for that, I'm going to be sorry for the rest of my life, probably longer. I was horrified by what I had done and I'm horrified still.

In many ways, my family has also suffered a great loss. Their pain is fresh because they only learned about it two weeks ago, the moment the verdict was read. The moment their hopes of ever welcoming me home someday were dashed. My dad, who's here today, was in California waiting anxiously in front of the TV.

My mom came to visit me after court that dark day. She had spoken to my dad on the way over and she told me that in the 34 years that they'd been together, she's never heard him cry the way he did that day. I caused that pain. I caused them to hurt that way. And I will concede that with Travis' family, theirs is a much greater loss and I can never make up for it. It's my hope that with the verdict you've rendered thus far, that they will finally gain a sense of closure. Steven said he doesn't want to look at his brother's murderer anymore. If I get life, he won't have to.

I've made many public statements that I would prefer the death penalty to life in prison. Each time I said that, though I meant it, I lacked perspective. Until very recently, I could not have imagined standing before you all and asking you to give me life. To me, life in prison was the most unappealing outcome I could possibly think of. I thought I'd rather die.

But as I stand here now, I can't in good conscious ask you to sentence me to death because of them. Asking for death is tantamount to suicide. Either way, I'm going to spend the rest of my life in prison. It will either be shortened or not. If it's shortened, the people who will hurt the most are my family. I am asking you, please, please don't do that to them. I have already hurt them so badly, along with so many other people. I want everyone's healing to begin and I want everyone's pain to stop.

Thank you.