Well, well, well.

After nearly two weeks of Lindsay Clancy jurors taking to television to trash the lone man who refused to acquit her, the holdout has apparently broken his silence.

And if his account of what happened inside that jury room is accurate, some of his fellow jurors have some explaining to do.

The holdout has been identified by the Boston Globe and other outlets as Michael P. Desronvil, 48, of Bridgewater, Massachusetts. Desronvil recently spoke with Ray Marcel of Fugitive TV, although he has not appeared on camera.

His account is stunning. According to Marcel, Desronvil says the jury wasn't gradually persuaded over nearly 40 hours of deliberations that Clancy lacked criminal responsibility when she killed her three children. 

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Eight jurors, he says, were already there on day one.

"He said that from day one, he said eight of them were going for Lindsay Clancy not guilty," Marcel recounted. "That was on day one. Eight were going not guilty. Two were for guilty. And two didn't know. They didn't make up their mind."

Desronvil reportedly had a word for those eight jurors: "Activists."

"He said to him those eight felt like they were activists," Marcel said. "Every day they would vote. The eight that felt that Lindsay was not guilty were trying to convince the other four, 'Hey, Lindsay is not guilty.'"

That description is particularly explosive in light of what one of those jurors has already said publicly.

Juror Paula Devlin told Fox News that the panel knew it had "a chance to get a conversation started" about women's mental health and postpartum illnesses.

"We knew that this was a turning point, and this would be something that could change something to make it better for other women," she said.

Sound familiar? Desronvil says there were "activists" in the jury room.

Devlin has publicly said she viewed the case as an opportunity to "get a conversation started" and potentially "change something."

You can draw your own conclusions. But a criminal trial isn't supposed to be a vehicle for changing society.

It isn't a public-awareness campaign. It isn't a referendum on women's mental healthcare. And jurors aren't there to "start a conversation." They're there to decide the case in front of them based on the evidence and the law.

And according to Desronvil, that is exactly what he was trying to do. He reportedly told Marcel that he concluded Clancy was guilty based on the evidence and did not believe she met the standard for lack of criminal responsibility.

Desronvil also disputes the picture his fellow jurors have painted of a stubborn man standing alone against an otherwise unified panel.

According to his account, the jury began deliberations with eight favoring acquittal, two favoring guilt and two undecided. And even near the end, he says he wasn't alone.

Desronvil claims another juror remained with him in favor of guilt before finally changing her position.

"He said at the very end, it was him and another juror," Marcel recounted. "She was also voting guilty. At the last minute, she caved."

That is quite different from the impression left by days of interviews portraying one immovable juror inexplicably resisting 11 people who had supposedly reasoned their way together to the same conclusion.

And remember what happened after the mistrial. Clancy attorney, Kevin Reddington, immediately went after the holdout.

He accused him of having some unexplained "agenda." He said the other 11 jurors had been "robbed."

"I hope that guy can sleep well at night," Reddington told reporters. Days later, he doubled down to Fox News.

"I was angry because of his refusal to follow the law," Reddington said.

Except Judge William Sullivan had already declined to make that finding.

When jurors sent Sullivan a note claiming the holdout had "acknowledged doubt but refuses to apply it," the judge specifically said the note did not establish that the juror was refusing to follow the law.

Then the jurors started talking. One complained that the holdout wouldn't accept information supplied during deliberations by nurses sitting on the jury concerning Clancy's medications and toxicology evidence.

Another complained about prosecutors being "harsh," "biased," "unprofessional," and "cold," and questioned why they hadn't presented character witnesses.

Devlin said the case represented an opportunity to start a broader conversation about women's mental health.

And now the holdout says eight members of that panel struck him as "activists" from the beginning.

Suddenly, his refusal to fold looks a little different. There is another part of this story that needs to be addressed.

Since the mistrial, Desronvil's personal history has been dragged into public view.

NBC10 Boston reported that he was charged in 2021 with assaulting his then-wife. That charge was later dismissed. Court records also showed that his nephew obtained a restraining order against him following a separate alleged assault, and the Boston Globe reported that the order remained active during part of the Clancy trial.

Those allegations are serious. But they also aren't convictions. And those kinds of stories can be highly selective and misleading.

And Desronvil now says he disclosed his previous arrest during jury selection.

"I did not lie on the questionnaire," he told Fugitive TV.

Whether that can be independently verified remains an important question. Juror questionnaires are confidential, and the Globe reported that prospective jurors were asked about criminal histories and court orders.

But there is a larger point here. None of Desronvil's possible baggage tells us whether Lindsay Clancy was criminally responsible when she killed Cora, 5, Dawson, 3, and Callan, 8 months.

The question before that jury wasn't whether the holdout had a spotless life. It was whether the prosecution proved its case against Clancy under Massachusetts law.

Desronvil says he believed it did. And for refusing to abandon that conclusion, he has been publicly blamed for the mistrial, accused of having an "agenda," scrutinized over his private life and, according to his account, threatened and stalked at his home.

An online fundraiser established for the holdout has meanwhile raised more than $100,000, according to People.

There is plenty we still don't know about what happened inside that deliberation room. Desronvil's account is his account, just as the other jurors' television interviews represent theirs.

But something has changed. For days, the public heard almost exclusively from the other jurors.

They told us the holdout wouldn't listen and he had an agenda. Now we're hearing from the man himself, and there is plenty to suggest that the opposite is the truth.

He says eight jurors entered deliberations already favoring acquittal, behaved like "activists," and spent the ensuing days trying to bring the remaining four over to their side.

Most strikingly, one of the jurors criticizing him has already publicly described the case as an opportunity to "get a conversation started" and "change something."

That’s not a juror’s job. In fact, that’s an extremely dangerous corruption of justice. 

Only one man stood up to the 11-person mob. America owes him a debt of gratitude for sticking to what he believed was right.