I had the pleasure of being called to Jury Duty this week. I barely lived through the time I was the foreman of a jury for a week-long medical malpractice trial, so I was not looking forward to this second chance of fulfilling my civic duty. I decided I would pray to the Baby Jesus, reminding him how awful my previous jury duty had been, asking him to keep me out of the jury box. In the spirit of the holidays, I begged: "Baby Jesus--please spare me!"
When we were finally seated in the jury waiting area, I took a gander at my peers. There were about 85 or 100 of us. I have to say--it was an older crowd, mainly white males with a smattering of this or that mixed in. I knew a few of the people in the room, which gave me pause. It's either a really small world...or, I know a lot of people....or, the Universe thought I needed to see these people for this reason or another. I pulled out my laptop and started working on a project. (Can you believe they actually allow laptops, smart phones, iPads and the like in the jury waiting room? I read it in the directions but thought they were kidding. They weren't!) A young lady approached the table and asked if anyone was sitting there. I smiled and invited her to sit down. I never stopped typing but I did smile.
I pretty much ignored everyone and everything for the first 45 minutes. Hey, that's how I roll.
I eventually decided to buy a bottle of water, so I got up, meandered around and then sat back down. I originally had planned on NOT drinking anything because I didn't want to have to pee while sitting in the court room. I started getting a head ache, mainly because I hadn't drunk anything all morning, so I gave in to my thirst. As I sat down, I made eye contact with the young lady--the international sign that I am now willing to speak, I guess. She quickly made small talk--very polite, obviously about 12 years old and hilariously naive.
She thought it would be GREAT to be on a jury! I didn't have the heart to crush her like a bug. I smiled and nodded.
I learned all about her in less than 15 minutes...I got to see photos of her new baby and her family dog. I learned what she did for a living, about who was watching her baby, how she had always wanted to sit on a jury. It was all fine until......
....she stopped and asked me: "Do you have any grandchildren?"
I choked on my water.
I guess we skipped kids and went straight to grandchildren. Ouch!
No, no I do not have any grandchildren. After I stopped choking, I turned my computer around so she could see a photo of our dogs in their Christmas outfits.
Grandchildren. Sheesh. I knew it was going to be a very long day.
Fast forward to the court room. The judge, four lawyers and one defendant were standing when we paraded in to the room. It was a pretty big parade. Thankfully, I got to sit by one of the people I knew. I made sure I wasn't smacking my gum (no gum in the court room), that my phone was off (which wasn't a problem because I forgot my phone at home) and that the computer was tucked away. The judge started talking about this or that, assuring us how lucky and honored we should feel.
It was then he indicated they were picking a jury for a murder trial.
I shit myself.
A murder trial? I don't have time for a murder trial! It's the holidays, I'm starting vacation in a week or two, I don't want to hear about a murder. I certainly don't want to sit in judgement of someone. Oh dear god. I think I made an audible gasp when he said that.
Imagine how excited I was when he indicated it would probably be a two-week trial.
Imagine how excited I was when he spoke about how the press was allowed to be in the courtroom and that they'd be filming the proceedings.
You know who was excited? That young lady who asked me if I had grandchildren. She was beaming. I swear, had it been remotely appropriate, she would've been jumping up and down in her seat, yelling "pick me! pick me!"
I sank low in my chair and hoped for the best. I felt like I was at the Reaping.
I'll spare you all the details. Suffice to say: (1) people are full of shit and say whatever they have to say to get out of jury duty; and, (2) I didn't get called up to the jury box until 4 PM, when there were only SIX of us left.
I had started to count my chickens before they hatched. I couldn't believe it I had made it that far. The odds weren't in my favorite by 4 PM. They were now interviewing for alternates. They only needed one more. With only six of us, it seemed rather possible they'd call my name.
I sat straight up in the chair, my computer bag between my feet, my winter coat on my lap. I told him I was starting vacation on such and such day. He confirmed with the lawyers that they'd be done by then, so that was a moot point. It then seemed rather unusual because the judge started with a different line of questioning with me than he had with the others. Maybe it was because it was so late in the day. Maybe it was because I was sitting up straight and looking him straight in the eye. Maybe he was wondering if I had grandchildren. Maybe he had been asking these questions all along and I hadn't been paying attention.
He read aloud the things I had written on my jury slip. He confirmed I had a master's degree, that I had served as an expert witness during a trial way back when and that I had testified for a client. He clarified I knew a police officer (this was relevant as various police officers would be testifying).
It was then he asked me about my previous jury duty experience: "I see you were the foreman of a jury in 19blah blah blah." I agreed that I had been the foreman and tightened the grip on my coat. He then asked me the question of which I prayed he would ask.
He asked me about my experience.
My answer? "While I was proud to do my civic duty, being the foreman of that jury was one of the worst experiences of my entire life and I never want to be the foreman of a jury again."
I don't think they saw this answer coming. Everyone else had noted that they had a good experience as a juror or that others they knew had found it to be a fulfilling experience. Not me. I felt my disdain and disgust start to seep out. I couldn't hide it. It was seeping out and I couldn't plug it up.
I answered his questions about the happening, noting that people were screaming at each other and that even the Bailiff had his hands full. I reiterated that I never wanted to be a foreman again.
He looked at me and stated, "but, we can't promise that won't happen. You could end up the foreman of this jury."
I'm not sure what I muttered but I know I was sticking to my guns. I wouldn't do it again. No, Nope. Nada. I think I said I'd do what I'd have to do but I was not going to be the foreman.
I didn't dare look around. I'm not sure what I would have seen. I didn't want to know.
It was then one of the lawyers got up to ask me some questions. I was hoping he'd ask me about the bumper stickers on my car (they had asked everyone else that) or about how I knew if someone was lying (I wanted to say a whole room full of liars had been there today). He didn't really seem into it. I was rather disappointed. Something was wrong.
He didn't ask me very many questions before telling me in a very polite fashion that I was recused. Recused! I was being deemed unqualified to sit on the jury because of possible conflict of interest or possibly because of a lack of impartiality.
I wasn't going to be on this jury!
I didn't have to fake my shock as it was real. I didn't see that coming, just as they hadn't seen my reaction to being a foreman. I was unqualified! Had it been appropriate, I would have SPRINTED out of that room.
This morning, I saw a news blurb about how the trial had started yesterday. There they were--the lawyers, the defendant, the judge. You know what I didn't see?
ME! How awesome is that? I was nowhere near that courtroom.
Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. I owe you one. I'll be nice at church this week....
....you know, I'd like to wait a few more years before anyone asks me about grandchildren--could you please work on that?
Thanks.
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