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I am not in jail so that’s good I guess

Remember, I had to show up for jury duty today or risk a bench warrant for my arrest. I mean, jeeez! So, fine, I showed up. I had to be there at 7:30 in the morning. That meant not only was I sleepy but I’d had no coffee and no breakfast. This was not an auspicious start.

Don’t you know that I was immediately selected for a panel. We had to trudge three blocks like little ducks to another court and then, because the universe hates me, I was selected to move to the jury box.

I was juror number ten. They were only choosing six, so I figured I had a pretty good chance that I would be eliminated.

We began the interview process wherein the judge — who was named Paul Simon (totally not kidding) — and all the attorneys asked us a million questions. I told them all kinds of stuff about me I hoped would persuade them to hate me. I told them I work in finance, that I’m a comedy blogger, that I’m a published author. I told them I read all the newspapers (The Times, Wall Street Journal, local papers, the ENTIRE internet). As a regular human I would have found that incredibly annoying. I told them I walked in on a home burglary. They informed us the defendant was charged with DUI. I informed the court I have a relative with a DUI. I told them I was only available for one day (more on that reason next week!).

I was pretty sure I was golden.

The universe had other ideas. I was selected. Seriously. Of all the people they had to choose from, ALL of the attorneys asked for me. WTF? Ava said that it was my own damn fault for acting smart.

I was given a notepad and a pen. I took extensive notes. People looked at me weird while I scribbled furiously, but Vincent Gambinihonestly, you put a writer in a jury box, notes are going to happen. I wrote down e v e r y t h i n g.

We were instructed a gazillion times that the state had to provide PROOF BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT to find the defendant guilty.

This is what I know beyond a reasonable doubt –

  • I’m entirely too fidgety for a jury. Everyone else on the jury was able to sit still like an adult. Not me. Fidget fidget fidget.
  • The judge didn’t wear a robe. Isn’t that the best part of the judge job? The wardrobe? I’d have insisted on the robe.
  • The defense attorney thought he was a comedienne. I swear to god during his opening statements he invoked the movie My Cousin Vinny using the line, “The two yutes”. I assure you he is not a comedienne. He was not funny. He irritated the hell out of me. He got the blank death stare when he directed a funny to the comedy blogger.
  • I told the court I was freaked out about missing Friday at work if the trial ran over. It’s true, I was, but what I was really freaked out about was missing my hair appointment. Those things are hard to get.
  • I discovered somewhere about the 37 minute mark of the trial that I had an enormous zit brewing on my chin. I then became obsessed with that.
  • The defendant had a very foreign name – one of those with way too many consonants and not enough vowels from the general area of Eastern Europe. I became very interested in learning the correct pronunciation, but I never learned it.
  • The judge instructed us that the jury members could write notes to the judge to ask questions. I really, really, REALLY wanted to do that, but I couldn’t for the life of me come up with a question that wouldn’t get me yelled at.
  • I found it absolutely fascinating that the oath given to the witnesses did not include swearing to God.
  • Whenever the lawyers had a side bar with the judge, he turned on a white noise machine. It sounded like static and it totally cracked me up every time.
  • There was extensive time taken over the prospect of field sobriety tests. I have very deep concerns that I could not pass a FST even on my soberest day. Walking heel to toe and a one-legged stand? Nope. I’ll bet Ava couldn’t do it either.
  • When the criminologist took the stand they actually made her do math during her testimony. She had to pull out a note-book and a calculator and figure out blood alcohol levels in front of an audience. My stomach got woozy on her behalf.
  • Every time one of the lawyers finished with statements or a witness ended their testimony I had to sit on my hands to keep from applauding. It just felt like the polite thing to do.
  • During the testimony, we learned that the judge was deaf in his left ear. Really. I guess there’s nothing wrong with that, but it seemed interesting, and I pondered it for quite a while when I should have been listening about chemical tests that no one was disputing the validity of.

jaywalkingWhen we were sent to lunch I made a point of jaywalking. I was hoping for an arrest because it would get me out of the rest of the trial. I don’t think they can yell at you for that, can they? I mean, jeez, you’re in jail.

Finally, the lawyers rested their cases and the six of us were sent to deliberate.

Guess who was the jury foreman? That’s right. Me. Because I have shit to do. It took less than five minutes.

That, my friends, is how you do jury duty.

 

 

6 Responses to I am not in jail so that’s good I guess

  • Kilian Metcalf says:

    The last time I was summoned for jury duty, the notice fell down behind the refrigerator, and I forgot all about it. Never heard another word from them. They must have thought I died or something, because I never receive summons any more. I would love to serve on a jury, and I never got picked. Guess I looked too eager. Out of 20 seasons of Law & Order, I have watched the 16 that are available from Netflix. Still waiting on the other four. Love watching courtroom drama but don’t enjoy reading fiction about them. Nonfiction, true-crime stories can be fun sometimes.

  • That pretty much sums up my jury experience, except I got some yummy pad Thai for lunch so not all was lost.
    I was not put in charge and it took a while to deliberate because the rest of the jury had to convince me ‘normal people’ are scared of police and panic.

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