There was no mention of the shooting of the dog.

But that didn't stop the jury on Wednesday from taking just 20 minutes to return a verdict of not guilty for disorderly conduct.

One juror even came over to shake the hand of Richard Junkins, the man who for months has complained of the way he was treated by the Madison County Sheriff's Department on the day he lost everything.

On March 6, 2015, a week after a record snowfall, Junkins watched his trailer burn down with all his possessions inside. His wife, Angie, escaped without shoes.

His black lab, named Mr. Bear, also made it out.

"He was an inside dog. He never slept outside in his life," said Junkins. "He was like a son to me. To some people, that may sound funny."

Richard Junkins, 46, stands where his single-wide trailer used to sit on Wall-Triana Highway in norther Madison County. Junkins said he left jail the morning after the fire to find his dog dead on the back porch. (Challen Stephens/cstephens@al.com)

Deputies arrived later that evening, about 10 hours after the fire. A driver had called police to say a man was acting strangely, sitting in the roadway.

Deputy Daniel De Jong walked down the dark driveway toward the smoldering trailer, flashlight in hand. Junkins could be heard bellowing, making loud anguished sounds. There was barking in the distance. A dog ran out of the darkness and growled.

Deputy De Jong yelled, "Hey, hey!" He shot and killed the dog.

Junkins lost his mind. Standing in the bitter cold, half-dressed, with red dots of Taser sights on him, he began cursing the man who just killed his dog, daring deputies to fire again.

"Hey, stay where you're at!" commanded De Jong.

"Son of a bitch...you shot my dog!"

De Jong repeated: "Get on the ground!"

Junkins twice tells him: "Shoot me!"

There is much yelling, some indecipherable, some profane.

"Do you understand get on the ground?!?"

"My house burned down today and now you shot my dog!"

Disorderly conduct

After the yelling, Junkins was taken into custody without force. He was arrested for disorderly conduct for obstructing traffic.

On the footage from the body camera, De Jong can be heard explaining: "We're trying to figure out what's going on, I get a big-ass dog running at me, I ain't going to get bit."

But Junkins, now in custody, tells him: "You killed my baby."

None of this would come out during the perplexing trial on Wednesday.

The jury would not see the video.

Judge Ruth Ann Hall ruled that lawyers could not discuss the shooting of Mr. Bear.

The judge also warned: "There will not be any mention of any other cases involving this officer."

That officer would be Deputy De Jong, who was in the news last year for tasing a man in the back during his housewarming party.

Perplexing trial

Richard Junkins said he repeatedly attempted to file charges over the shooting of his dog. (Challen Stephens/cstephens@al.com)

Instead, on Wednesday, lawyers dueled for a couple hours over what started the whole matter: A man sitting in the road.

They debated whether Richard Junkins sat in the road for too long while he stared at his burned down trailer, or whether he laid in the road with eyes closed, or whether his head was near the center line, or whether his feet were near the side of the road, or whether there is even traffic to obstruct on the quiet two lanes at the end of Wall Triana Highway miles north of Huntsville.

"Let's put this in a simple perspective," defense attorney James Foley told the jury at one point. "This is his front yard."

De Jong faced Junkins across a mostly empty court room, the dead dog relegated to the silence between them.

Could De Jong tell there had been a trailer fire? "Post the incident I could," he testified, although the jury couldn't know what the deputy meant by "the incident."

"Did he go peacefully?" defense attorney James Foley asked about Junkins' arrest. Assistant District Attorney Allison Blackburn objected. That prompted a lengthy sidebar, as there was no way to discuss Junkins' demeanor without discussing the dog. The line of questioning was abandoned.

Yet at one point, Judge Hall directly asked Junkins: "What was your dog's name?"

"Mr. Bear," he answered, "he was like my son."

Sheriff's department troubles

The Madison County Sheriff's Department has seen greater problems than the shooting of a dog.

Madison County Chief Deputy Dave Jernigan (file)

A Madison County deputy this year pleaded guilty in federal court to lying under oath after stalking, stopping and beating a man he fought in a bar. He awaits sentencing.

Another Madison County deputy was arrested this year for having sex with a student where he worked at Sparkman High School.

Meanwhile, depositions are underway this month in a series of lawsuits over three deaths for untreated minor medical conditions inside the county jail.

The FBI is also investigating the hospitalization of a repeat troublemaker injured while restrained in the jail. The sheriff's department will not release the video to the public or to elected county officials.

Sheriff Blake Dorning has stood behind his men in most cases.

Dorning in August of 2014 assured the public the department had done nothing wrong in the $625,000 payout over the revenge beatdown, even though his own officers had documented the wrongdoing months earlier.

Despite deaths and lawsuits and a federal investigation, the elected county commission had to force Dorning to make a change in leadership at the jail.

One county official, speaking anonymously last week, said no one is in charge of the department. "It's a carnival, it runs itself."

In at least three of the recent suits against deputies, the county settled after the complainants were cleared of any criminal charges. In this case, the county again chased a losing hand.

"I guess I just don't get why they are so adamant about prosecution," wondered Foley, Junkins' attorney, in January.

Mr. Bear

The dog shooting was witnessed by a teenage boy who lives in the trailer next door.

Madison County Courthouse in Huntsville, Alabama (Challen Stephens/cstephens@al.com)

"His dog was just barking and it didn't do nothing. It was just barking at him," the boy told AL.com. But the boy would not testify.

And the shooting would not appear in the arrest report.

The only impartial witness on Wednesday would be utility worker Anthony Swinford.

Swinford testified that Junkins on March 6, 2015, waved excitedly at him from the side of the road. "I thought he was drunk. I didn't know. He was staggering. I thought he was hurt," testified Swinford.

Swinford wheeled around so his window, not his wife's, was facing Junkins. The assistant district attorney said Swinford also pulled out his pistol because he was alarmed by Junkins' state. Swinford rolled his window down and asked if Junkins needed help.

All agree Junkins repeatedly told him to: "Go on."

The Swinfords pulled down the lane, watched Junkins sit down in the road and called police.

Junkins testified he ran 200 feet because he saw his dog running toward the Swinford's car. Junkins said he was out of breath. He said the yard was soaked from the fire hoses, so the road was the only place to sit. Then he laid back in despair.

"I wasn't all right, I was extremely sick, I was mentally sick," testified Junkins on Wednesday, searching for the words to describe his inability to cope with the loss of his home. "I should have been in the hospital that day."

He said he was not drunk, although deputies took his indecipherable cursing for intoxication. He said he didn't have more than a beer to drink that night, as he'd lost his money and his truck was stuck in the mud from the water to fight the fire.

As for obstructing traffic, he said of watching De Jong pull up: "There is no traffic there. I was amazed to see him."

Day in court

Junkins has appealed to multiple lawyers, to the governor's office, to state troopers. He has been on a year-long mission to bring charges of animal cruelty against Deputy De Jong.

But Chief Deputy Dave Jernigan said a review board looked at the shooting and found it within policy. The law does not require police officers to wait to be injured to use force, and Chief Jernigan suggested the video is an almost textbook case of when to use force and could be used in training.

Jernigan said it was dark, police were called, there were questions about the use of alcohol or maybe drugs, and De Jong was trying to protect himself. "He did the right thing," said Jernigan.

Junkins said he was prepared to offer what he calls a truce with De Jong on the night of the arrest, but De Jong told him he was going to jail for cursing him. Junkins claims De Jong made him listen to "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden in the patrol car before booking him, and that's when Junkins decided he would never let it go.

In the months that followed, he said Sheriff Blake Dorning wouldn't see him. He said he spoke with multiple supervisors at the sheriff's department. He said they refused to take his statement asserting a crime had been committed by De Jong, but they would take a complaint. He has receipts from some of the encounters.

He provided the complaint form from the sheriff's office. "This is toilet paper. Can't do nothing with it."

"They tried to let it die," Junkins said, standing in his front yard on Jan. 7, 2016, predicting: "This dude is going to end up killing somebody."

Fatal shooting

Randy Joe Sanders had a long, unsavory record. Public drunkenness. DUI. Sex with an underage girl. Marijuana. Probation violations. He was once arrested for "night hunting" with a bow and arrow in New Market.

Patrol car in Madison County (file)

Late on Jan. 20, someone called to complain Sanders was bothering people at the Jet-Pep gas station in Meridianville. Callers said the man was armed. A deputy arrived. Sanders was shot and killed.

In some news reports, police say Sanders aimed a gun at the deputy. In others, police said Sanders refused to stop walking or show his hands.

De Jong was the deputy, according to multiple sources in the courthouse and within law enforcement.

Chief Deputy Dave Jernigan and District Attorney Rob Broussard would not comment on the shooting. De Jong has not been officially identified as the shooter.

Civil rights attorney Hank Sherrod publicly accused the sheriff's department of covering up a bad shooting, arguing that evidence suggests Sanders was not holding or pointing a gun at the time.

One source close to the investigation says Sanders ignored commands and was reaching for a pistol with an active laser sight.

When asked outside the Junkins trial, De Jong made no comment on the Sanders shooting. Broussard has said that Madison County would not release information about the shooting or release the video until the case had been presented to a grand jury. That could be a month or two.

Tased in the back

Still, neither shooting would mark the first time De Jong was thrust into local news. On March 2, 2015, just four days before he encountered Junkins, De Jong was in the news for being sued.

Madison County late last year would pay $124,000 to settle a case filed by Dominique Kenebrew, an electrical engineer.

De Jong, responding to a noise complaint, demanded to enter Kenebrew's home to search for underage drinking. Kenebrew refused, asking for a warrant. De Jong tased Kenebrew three times in the back and then searched the house. There was no underage drinking nor any other criminal activity.

Kenebrew was arrested for obstructing government operation, but Kenebrew was also found not guilty.

As for Junkins, De Jong expresses regret in the 40 minutes of bodycam footage following the shooting of Junkins' dog.

He puts Angie and Junkins in the back of separate cars, while DeJong and another deputy go in search of the dog. They find the casing and blood, but no Mr. Bear.

De Jong tells the other deputy: "I should have let you have this call."

He describes the dog as a charging Rottweiller or pit bull of over 100 pounds. He tells another deputy: "I hope I just scared it."

No dogs at the hotel

De Jong tells his supervisor he doesn't want to charge Junkins because Junkins just lost everything in a fire. But they can't decide what to do with Junkins. Their truck is stuck in the mud, due to the water from the fire department. They have no way to go anywhere, they have no house.

De Jong finds out the Red Cross provided a hotel room, but Junkin's wife, Angie, tells deputies that they couldn't go to the hotel because it wouldn't allow dogs.

"He'd rather stay here in the cold with his dog," she says.

The tape shows police suspect he was drunk, they debate whether to charge him with anything, and finally book him for disorderly conduct.

Junkins has said De Jong told him that he was arrested for disorderly for cursing an officer, but the actual charge was for disorderly conduct for blocking traffic.

Junkins was found guilty at a bench trial but refused to pay the $100 fine, instead he demanded his day in court. He tried to press charges against De Jong for coming on his property and shooting his dog.

As for the Mr. Bear, Chief Deputy Jernigan noted the dog had a record.

Animal control supervisor Mike Fitz said they'd had at least two complaints about the black lab in 2013, one for aggressive behavior and one for "running at large."

When asked, Junkins said a neighbor moved away and Mr. Bear would still go to the man's porch. Junkins said a real estate agent called animal control. Fitz said he recalled that.

Four patents

Junkins is an honest-to-goodness inventor, holding four patents. His biggest is a paint brush cleaner, known as the Paint Piranha, carried in stores and featured on local news. He said the sales on his inventions are what pays the bills.

He's also hosted a few home repair and music shows on local network TV, including "Quality Controlled Dream Homes" on WAAY-TV, and has been featured in the local newspaper for his gadgets.

Junkins is eccentric on a good day.

And this was the second worst day of his life, following the day his daughter died, he testified in court.

Richard Junkins was featured in The Huntsville Times in 2004 after inventing the air-conditioning hat (Huntsville Times)

He said it was the anniversary of his father's death when a blanket resting too near the kerosene heater somehow started the blaze. He was already howling in despair, making some really strange noises, when DeJong arrived.

"I'm very sorry"

In the back of the patrol car, about half an hour after the arrest, Junkins spoke in a whisper, still fixated on one thing alone: "Did y'all kill my dog?"

"Sir, I don't know to be honest," said De Jong.

Deputies never found the dog. Junkins said the next day, after he got out of jail, he found the dog dead at the back porch.

"Where is Mr. Bear then? Mr. Bear sleeps with me every night," he said in the back of the patrol car, now sobbing.

De Jong never apologized to Junkins. But he did apologize to Angie while she sat under a blanket in another patrol car: "I'm very sorry all this had to come to a head."

At one point, he told another deputy: "I don't know what all procedurally needs to be done about the dog...other than just document it."

"I've never had to shoot a dog before."