Despite being on every public list out there (I have owned a house for years; always vote; I even have a library card), I had never been called for jury duty before last week. Well, the bell finally tolled for me, and I spent two days getting a chance to serve the criminal justice system. Indeed, if waiting around doing nothing for hours counts as service, then I performed with great distinction.
On Day 1, I arrived about 8 a.m., 15 minutes before the requested time. By about 8:30 or so, the people in charge started calling out names for various panels of 30 or 40 people, who were then directed to the courtrooms where trials were scheduled to occur. About two hours, two newspapers, and a crossword puzzle later, my name finally was called. At which point I and the others in my group were told to stay in our seats and continue waiting. Nothing further happened until noon, when we were all released for lunch and asked to be back at 1:30. The highlight of the morning, other than the free bagels, was watching the young woman seated directly in front of me turn around and tell me that she was tired of the waiting. Apparently, my response did nothing to ease her concerns, because she then very loudly announced that "this is a big f-----g waste of time. I am tired of this f-----g sitting around." This, of course, is the kind of insight that lawyers are looking for in potential jurors.
At about 1:45, my panel was finally assembled and told that we would be heading to a courtroom on the 7th floor. Whereupon our crackerjack Official Escorter took most of us to the 11th floor, and we all enjoyed wandering around like an overgrown scout troop while he looked for the courtroom that all the rest of us knew was on the 7th floor. God bless the civil service.
We finally made it to the 7th floor, at about 2:30 the judge appeared, and eventually she and the lawyers started questioning the members of the panel (what we lawyer types call "voir dire"). Although it took more than two hours to get to all 40 panel members, much of what everyone had to say was quite interesting. For example, all but 2-3 of the 40 people had been the victim of a crime. One person's father had been murdered, and another person's son had been murdered. One man had been shot twice -- in two separate incidents. And in fewer than five of these situations had anyone been arrested or had the panel members been asked to testify.
It was also interesting watching the desperate -- at times almost comical -- lengths to which people would go to avoid being picked for the jury, a fate that awaited 14 of the 40 panel members. My favorite was the guy who said that his religious beliefs prevented him from being able to serve. When the judge asked what religion was involved, he said, "I'm a Methodist." When the judge asked what about being a Methodist prevented him from serving, he said, "I'm not sure. I have only been a Methodist for about two years."
As person after person was interviewed, I began feeling increasingly certain that I would end up on the jury. People often believe that lawyers don't get picked to serve on juries, but that is not true. There were two other lawyers on the panel, and I knew that both would be struck before me since one was a current federal prosecutor and the other was a former public defender. When you are not even the first lawyer to go, you know you have a serious chance of being picked.
Sure enough, at about 5:15, the judge announced that I and 13 others had been chosen and dismissed the other 26. Each of those chosen received a number from 1 through 14 (I was Juror 6). It not being late enough, the judge then said that she wanted each of us to see where in the jury box we would be sitting for the trial, which was not as hard as it sounds since every chair had a big number on it. I felt pretty confident I could find seat number 6 the next morning, but practice makes perfect, so I had to go through the dress rehearsal with everyone else. We finally got out of there at 5:40.
On Day 2, we gathered in the jury room connected to the courtroom. And then did abso-bleeping nothing for a bit more than six hours, except go to lunch. I became concerned that this was all a psychology experiment and someone was observing us from another room, so, in an effort to appear well adjusted, I struck up conversations with some of my fellow jurors when I tired of reading my book. I even chatted with the guy who had been shot twice, but he was sitting next to a big window, and I figured it was not worth the risk, so I kept that conversation kind of short. Finally, at a little after 4 p.m., the judge entered the jury room, announced that the defendant had accepted a plea deal, and thanked us for our service.
Two days later, in the only example of efficiency I experienced during the entire process, my check for $18 arrived.
Is this a great country, or what?
