A Columbus, Ohio, jury convicted former Franklin County sheriff's deputy Jason Meade of reckless homicide on Thursday for the 2020 shooting death of 23-year-old Casey Goodson Jr., but deadlocked on the more serious murder charge, forcing the judge to declare a mistrial on that count and leaving the case only partially resolved.
The split verdict, reached after jurors reported they were hopelessly deadlocked and believed a unanimous decision was "impossible," caps a legal saga that has stretched nearly six years. It also leaves open the question of whether prosecutors will seek a third trial on the murder charge.
Meade, who pleaded not guilty, had his bond revoked after the partial verdict was read inside Franklin County Court of Common Pleas. ABC News reported that special prosecutor Tim Merkle called the murder count "unresolved" and said no decision had been made on whether to bring the case back a third time.
The shooting on December 4, 2020
The facts of that December afternoon remain sharply contested, and no body-camera footage exists, because Franklin County Sheriff's deputies were not issued body-worn cameras at the time.
Merkle told the jury that on Dec. 4, 2020, Goodson had gone to a dentist appointment and was returning to his grandmother's home carrying a bag of Subway sandwiches and listening to music on his AirPods. The prosecutor framed the encounter bluntly during opening statements:
"The evidence will show that on Dec. 4, 2020, the defendant shot Casey Goodson Jr. six times in the back, killing him. At the time Casey had entered his house, he was carrying a bag of Subways and was listening to YouTube music on his AirPods."
Meade had been working with the U.S. Marshals that day, searching for a potential violent fugitive. The encounter with Goodson was separate from that operation. AP News reported that prosecutors argued Goodson's gun was not in his hands when he was shot, that evidence suggested the firearm was under his belt rather than drawn.
Police confirmed Goodson was a legal gun owner. A concealed carry permit was found in his wallet, and the gun recovered from him had its safety on.
That detail sits at the center of the case. A man lawfully carrying a firearm, with the safety engaged, shot multiple times in the back as he entered a family home. For the prosecution, the physical evidence told its own story. For the defense, the story was about what Meade perceived in a fast-moving moment.
The defense: a 'justified tragedy'
Defense attorney Kaitlyn Stephens told jurors the shooting was a "justified tragedy" and asked them to evaluate the encounter through the eyes of a law enforcement officer in real time, not with the benefit of hindsight. She framed the defense around two questions:
"Our defense will require you to answer two questions. Question one, did Jason believe he was about to be shot when he saw Mr. Goodson point the gun at him? And question two was Jason's decision to use deadly force reasonable through the eyes of a reasonable police officer standing in Jason's shoes without 2020 hindsight."
Meade did not take the witness stand during the retrial. But Fox News reported that in earlier proceedings, he testified he fired because he believed Goodson was raising a gun at him. "I thought he was going to shoot me. I'm thinking, I don't want to die. I didn't want to shoot him," Meade said at that time.
The defense called one witness, a use-of-force expert. The prosecution called members of Goodson's family, including his grandmother Sharon Payne, his sister Janae Jones, and his uncle Ernest Payne Jr. An FBI reenactment video was also shown to the jury.
Fox News also noted that prosecutors raised recordings in which Meade made inflammatory remarks about police work, including saying he gets to "hunt" people. Those comments, whatever their original context, gave prosecutors a window into the former deputy's mindset, and gave the jury something to weigh against the self-defense claim.
A long road to a partial answer
This was Meade's second trial. The first ended in a mistrial in February 2024 after that jury also failed to reach an agreement. The retrial began with opening statements last week. Deliberations started Wednesday afternoon and resumed Thursday morning.
The 12-member jury, nine women and three men, told the judge Thursday that they were deadlocked and believed a unanimous decision was impossible. The judge instructed them to continue deliberating. They returned with the partial verdict: guilty on reckless homicide, no agreement on murder.
Merkle, the special prosecutor, expressed satisfaction with what the jury did deliver. "We appreciate the hard work the jury did. They have spoken, and we're pleased with that," he said. The question of whether to pursue a third trial on the murder charge now falls to his office.
The outcome in Columbus reflects a broader pattern across the country, cases involving officers who used deadly force grinding through the courts with mixed results. In one recent Kansas City case, an officer who killed two people walked away with a settlement and a resignation rather than a criminal conviction.
Goodson's mother, Tamala Payne, welcomed the verdict. She said Meade "has to stand accountable for what he did to Casey." Her relief was palpable:
"It gives us closure. It gives us peace. And now I'm sure I speak for my family when I say this, I know now, Casey can rest."
What the verdict means, and what it doesn't
Reckless homicide is a lesser charge than murder. The conviction means the jury found Meade acted with a reckless disregard for Goodson's life, but it could not unanimously agree that the shooting rose to the level of murder. The potential sentence for reckless homicide was not specified in the reporting.
The hung jury on the murder count leaves a significant legal question unanswered. Prosecutors now face a decision that carries real weight: try the murder charge a third time, or accept the reckless homicide conviction and move on. Two juries have now failed to reach consensus on the top charge.
For those who believe in both robust law enforcement and genuine accountability, this case presents uncomfortable facts on every side. Goodson was a legal gun owner exercising his rights. Meade was a deputy working a fugitive operation. No body camera recorded what happened between them. The physical evidence, shots in the back, safety engaged, sandwiches in hand, told the jury enough to convict on one charge but not the other.
The absence of body-camera footage is a recurring problem in cases like these. It leaves juries to reconstruct split-second encounters from physical evidence, expert testimony, and competing narratives. Departments that still resist equipping officers with cameras are doing neither the public nor their own officers any favors. In a Los Angeles case where charges against officers were dropped, the evidentiary gaps shaped the outcome just as much as the underlying facts.
Meade's bond has been revoked. He awaits sentencing on the reckless homicide conviction. Whether he will face a third trial on the murder charge remains an open question, one that Merkle's office has given no timeline to answer.
The broader landscape of law enforcement accountability continues to demand that the public hold two ideas at once: officers deserve the benefit of the doubt in genuinely dangerous encounters, and citizens, including armed citizens exercising their constitutional rights, deserve not to be shot in the back while walking into their grandmother's house.
The system worked, partially. It took six years, two trials, and a hung jury to get a reckless homicide conviction for a man shot six times while carrying sandwiches. Whether that pace and that outcome represent justice depends on what you think justice requires, and whether you believe the system owes Casey Goodson Jr. a more complete answer than the one it has delivered so far.
Accountability is not a partisan idea. When a man with a badge shoots a man with a concealed carry permit in the back, the public deserves a full accounting, not two mistrials and a lesser conviction that leaves the hardest question still on the table.
