Jury Duty

I recently had jury duty, and it was harder to get out of than I figured. And, my faith in American justice has been shaken.  These people were in outer space!

    Click on TRANSCRIPT, above, to read.  Or, just click play.  Thanks for being here! 

Transcript

               I had jury duty today.  I was supposed to arrive at the Santa Monica courthouse at 8:00.  I managed to arrive at 8:45 just as the orientation speech was ending.  Several “jurors-to-be” were asking questions.  Geeeez, no wonder jurors are not allowed to raise their hands and ask questions during a trial.  The first lady with her hand up wants to know if all the doors will lock in case of fire because, she says, she is claustrophobic.  “No,” the clerk assures her, “we don’t lock the doors in case of fire.”  This seems to assure her.  A couple of other people ask questions, and I begin to see the problem with the jury system.  One-third of these people are in outer space.  Why would they lock the doors in case of fire?  What makes us think she can zero in on relevant facts in a criminal trial?

               This is “juror appreciation week” so they have a glass dish full of marbles.  We are supposed to write our guess and our juror ID number on a slip of paper and drop it in the basket.  The white-haired woman next to me is dressed in dark blue with lots of lace.  I’ll bet she was and still is a George W. Bush supporter.  She is writing next to me, and I see that instead of guessing the number of marbles, she wrote “guilty” on her slip of paper.  As she’s leaving the table, she turned to me and said, “I thought there would be more evidence.”  Apparently, that did not disturb her- at least not enough.  I feel like I have fallen down a rabbit hole.  While I am filling out my marble guess, the claustrophobic lady comes up to do her guess.  She is next to me and I see her write, “5,000”.  It is a small dish and my guess is 200.  The jury system is starting to frighten me.

               We’re sent out to the court room for questioning.  The case is going to be a criminal case:  assault and robbery.  The lawyers and judge will question jurors and release any excused for legal cause.  After that, the lawyers each get six “pre-emptory” challenges- allowing them to excuse six jurors without giving a reason.  I have the amazing good fortune to be the first called of the thirty potential jurors.  “All right,” I’m thinking.  “I’ll be out of here at a decent time.  I used to be a cop, lawyer, and now I am wearing bright tie-dye.  They’ll question and then excuse me when they excuse six people for tactical reasons without giving their reason.  I am already planning my afternoon.

               First lawyer asks me if I believe police officers will lie.  I want out of here so I respond, “Half will lie all the time and half only when convenient.”

               So, the attorney asks me, “you would be willing to listen to the evidence before you decide?”  Hmmm, this is going to be harder than I thought.  I will have to be more direct.

               “Sir,” the defense attorney is questioning me now, “the other side gets to present their evidence first.  Can you keep an open mind until you have heard our defense?”

               Okay, here’s my chance.  “Sir,” I respond, “I have short term memory loss.  I am not likely to remember any evidence long enough for that to be a problem.”

               “So, Juror 37 (that’s me), then you will listen to all the evidence?  Very well.  No objection for cause.”

               I am accepted and sit in the jury box.  They call the next juror for question.  She is about 25, has long dreadlocks, and is wearing fluorescent tie-dye.  I have never seen fluorescent tie-dye before.  Somehow, it seems a bit redundant.  She sits in the witness box and is asked if she’ll tell the whole truth.  She blows a kiss to the ceiling and says, “Scuze me while I kiss the sky,” and then says, “Jah guide.”  I now realize my efforts to get out of jury duty were amateurish.  These other jurors know what they are doing.  Still, I want to be on a jury with her, but both attorneys ask at the same time that she be excused for cause.  The judge says she is excused.  She blows the ceiling another kiss and is gone.

               Next guy is excused when he calmly explains during the oath that he always does whatever his secret voices tell him.  He is gone before I even learn his occupation.  I sigh because I underestimated what you have to say to get sent home.

               A dark-haired, middle-aged woman next explains that she decides everything by horoscope analysis.  It will be more accurate than the evidence.  Having seen jury trials from the lawyer’s side, I secretly agree with her; but, she is excused anyway.  I am still alone in the jury box.

               A gray-haired man who looks like a retired cop is next.  In questioning, turns out he IS a retired cop.  He patriotically announces he is there to help the police do their job.  He says something about an eye for an eye.  The defense lawyer rolls his eyes, and the judge excuses the retired cop.  I want to raise my hand and ask if I can be questioned again.  I want to mention the aliens that control me.

               Next comes a nervous looking fellow about 30-year-old.  He is asked if there is any reason he cannot serve on a jury.  “Yes,” he responds, “I get hungry.”  The judge quiets twitters in the courtroom and asks why that is a problem.  “I have low blood sugar, and I need to eat frequently,” he explains.   “Otherwise, I have trouble controlling my behavior.”  His right eye twitched several times, and he drooled a bit.  I don’t believe a word of it, but the judge looks frightened and dismisses him.  These jurors are pros, and I am up the creek without a paddle.

               A retiree with a plastic pocket protector full of pens is questioned next.  Turns out he is a member of a religious group that is waiting for a saucer to the stars.  He is afraid it will come in the middle of the trial.  He is excused.  I can’t tell if it’s because he believes in saucers or because he might not be here for the whole trial.  Someone behind me wants to know when we get to send someone to jail.  I am ready to volunteer.  Anything to get out of here.

               I am considering taking off my clothes, talking to the empty chair next to me, or both.  Before I can decide, a conservative lady about my age is called.  She is, I hear, a physician at nearby St. John’s Hospital.  She says she has patients waiting, and she is promptly excused.  I am offended.  Why is my time not important?  My dog is waiting for me.

               Up next is a 21-year woman with long blond hair.  She explains she can’t serve because she was bitten by a rattlesnake a few years ago, and sometimes her brain swells.  I thought, ‘Big deal, sounds like she has lots of extra room in her head to allow for swelling.  Apparently, the judge agreed because she was seated in the jury box next to me. The judge tells her to raise her hand if she thinks her brain is starting to swell.  The attorneys grin, and the blond looks disappointed.  I feel like a complete idiot.  Only one other person except myself could not pull this off, and she has room for her brain to swell.

               A Hispanic that spoke no English at all was quickly dismissed.  The following juror announces that he can’t serve because he has HIV.  The judge explains this is no reason to be excused from jury service.  The blond next to me stands up to say she ‘like totally can’t serve because she would be like totally too afraid.’  The judge sighs and dismisses them both.  The blond pulled it off, and I am alone again.  I wonder if people in the courtroom can see the desperation in my face.  I don’t care.

               A Martha Stewart clone takes the stand and answers all the questions correctly and patriotically.  She is directed to sit in the jury box next to me.  I can’t imagine deciding a case with this paragon of wayward virtues.

               Next fellow is in his fifties, balding, thick glasses, and looks bored.  He take the witness stand just as the attorneys go to the bench to conference with the judge.  It takes about five minutes, and when they return the juror has fallen asleep on the witness stand.  They wake him up, and I can see the wheels turning in his head.  “Er, yes, I fall asleep in the middle of things.  It is medical, and I can’t control it.”  He is dismissed, and I decide to fall asleep.  When they wake me up, I’ll twitch a few times, and yell, “INCOMING!”  I’ll be dismissed before the bailiff can get me out from under the table.  This might work.

               Before I can put my plan into action, the judge announces it is time for lunch, 12:00 to 1:30. One and one-half hour lunch?  As a school teacher, I eat in about twenty minutes.  I am beginning to understand anarchists.

               After lunch, Martha Stewart Jr. and I go back.  During lunch, the defendant (perhaps intimidated by Martha Stewart Jr. deciding his fate) reached a plea bargain.  I’m told I am finished with jury duty for twelve months.  How come they can call be back in just twelve months, but I can only go to traffic school every eighteen months?