There's never a good time to receive a jury summons. But, when you see it in your mail you swallow your frustration and nerves and register, hoping selection passes over you.
But then a follow-up questionnaire is provided, which means you've survived the first round of cuts. So you swallow your horror and take to the keyboard answering more involved questions like, "Would you give a child's testimony the same weight as an adult's?" or "What kind of television shows do you watch?" or "Select in order of importance to you, what the role of the criminal justice system should be."
Goodness! You have to thoughtfully consider some of these. You know a bottom-feeder would answer in an egregious manner—solidifying their chance of being dropped—but you are a truth-teller and you've checked a little box affirming this. Hitting send, you wonder what will happen next, especially as you realize many of your answers have exposed your religion and how it informs the way you choose live and see the world.
Two days later, in a last attempt to see if you've been weeded out, or the court case is cancelled, you check your inbox before traveling into the city. No luck. You're on the hook and have no idea what your expectations should be of the jury trials on this bright Friday morning.
At the courthouse, you find your courtroom on the 7th floor, and the bailiff, who gives you an official jurors tag. You're relieved to see everyone else is as weirded out as you! Joining them on the long hallway benches you await your session commencement.
Fifteen minutes after the start time, everyone is still in the hall waiting. The bailiff calls out "Montgomery? Salizar?" Two jurors are late. So you await their arrival. Thirty minutes after the indicated start time the bailiff calls out again, "Montgomery? Salizar?" The wait continues. Salizar shows up 40 minutes late. Everyone is annoyed. The judge is still holding out for Montgomery. Other jurors start asking people who walk through the hall, "Are you Montgomery?" It becomes humorous.
Suddenly a young adult, with saggy, bleach spotted, ripped jeans and an oversized t-shirt, bounds around the corner down the hallway. Everyone is eager to see if it's Montgomery...but nay, it seems he's headed toward the bathroom. About 30 seconds later several cops start dashing about the hallways, chattering back and forth on their talkies. Turns out the young man was a runner! Someone says, "I hope he wasn't Montgomery." Everyone laughs.
An hour past starting time..."Montgomery?!?" This person is a no-show. The judge will hold them in contempt of court and issue a bench warrant. However, this long wait tells you the judge holds some grace for jurors and you find yourself respecting this. Seventy minutes past starting time you each receive a number and walk into the courtroom in said order. Number 13 is your designation. "How unlucky," you think to yourself.
As you enter the court, all attorneys, defendant and judge are respectfully standing until jurors are seated. The questioning begins.
"Is there any reason you will not be able to attend court next week?" the Judge asks. Hands are raised. Vacation, doctors appointments, travel for work and so forth are the expected excuses. One man's excuse as he puts face in his hands is, "My medication isn't working, it's not letting me paying attention." You can practically feel the collective struggling to prevent their eyes rolling. No one is excused to leave at this point. This, you learn, happens later. And after some thought, you realize it's probably to give some education to as large a group as possible on jury selection proceedings. Another reason to respect the judge.
The prosecuting attorneys start digging in with their presentation and questioning jurors. "What are your thoughts about this Mr. Grandine?" "Do you agree Ms. Casidy?"
You're desperately trying to pay attention, to follow the trail of questioning—your ADD sometimes gets the best of you in situations like this. You don't know when you'll be called upon next nor how frequently. They need 6 jurors, you're number 13—a very solid backup. The proceedings are about 40 minutes in and so far you've been able to answer with a "yes" or a "no" and only a single, "Could you repeat the question?" Your heart is getting a lot of exercise today and so is your mind. Some words being used, you can't define. In this moment, you almost wish you had taken AP Government in High School. Just as another question is directed to you and your mouth is open to speak, Juror One, sitting kitty-corner in front of you, yells out! It startles everyone around him.
Shockingly, Juror One begins to suffer a violent seizure! One might think it was an act, but quickly it becomes apparent this is an emergency situation. It's an awful crisis to be behold, erratic noises of pain, the body contortions, his arm getting stuck between the wall and the bench.... The jury is ushered out of the room and back to the familiar hallway. The EMTs arrive and are rushed in. It's awful.
The hallway is mostly quiet as everyone digests the situation. You feel shaken. You've never witnessed a seizure before. You hope Juror One will recover. It's a long wait before he's wheeled out. He looks fine, but of course he's not. You want to wish him well, but he's not making eye contact.
Jurors are invited back in, everyone is seated and the judge asks how you are all feeling. Others are feeling the same as you. Everyone is then asked, "Will this get in the way of your ability to continue?" Since it's almost lunch time, the judge excuses everyone for a long lunch break. "Oh great," you think, "I'm ready to just get this over with and we haven't even gotten halfway through the first presentation yet." You've been there since 8:00 am. You're not giving up your parking space in the city and you're not walking in heels to find lunch. So you spend the time in your car.
The subsequent proceedings and questioning feel like a beating. It's confusing and repetitive (bad presenting skills). You come to understand the case will be tried as either a class A or B misdemeanor in relation to driving while intoxicated at almost twice the legal limit. Most of the questioning is to suss out the juror's opinions of the matter. You KNOW you will be asked about this. One of the questions on your second form had been, "What is your use of alcohol?" The answer you recall with great clarity, "I don't drink. I never have." And now you realize that's how you've gained access to this jury trial.
So, when the question is posed, "Ms. Z_____. What are your thoughts about driving while intoxicated?" You struggle a bit in your answer. You know the attorney is exactly aware of what you have written. So you begin with that, "Well, you know I don't drink and never have." You go on, "In my personal opinion I agree with this gentleman," indicating the man in front of you, "that a person should never drink and drive, no matter how many drinks they've had. But, I have no personal experience to base my opinion on, so in this case I would have to go with the information that is presented to me." There had been discussion over how many drinks a person could have before it effects them, how it effects everyone differently, the legal versus perceived indicators of an intoxicated person and so forth. You feel that perhaps your answer makes you sound naive but it's literally all you can offer. You feel embarrassed. You don't know how you've come across. But seriously, whatever. Stranger things have happened today.
Questioning FINALLY over, the jurors are all released back into the hallway while selection begins behind closed doors. A few people are taken back in for one-on-one questioning. You want to relax, there are 24 of you and only 6 will be asked to stay, but there's still a chance. And you didn't have any acceptable reasons to be excused, and didn't stand out as being a bad choice like so many others.
After a time, the bailiff enters the hallway and begins role call. "Salizar?...Salizar?" Salizar was once again a no show. You'd seen her take the elevator downstairs. Annoyance enters the group. Despite her absence, the bailiff ushers everyone back into the courtroom. Selection begins without Salizar because she hasn't made the cut anyway. You are all instructed that if your number and name are called you should take a seat in the jury box. Then it happens. Your name is called—you take a sharp breath. Of course. Dread and excitement saddle up inside your chest as you move toward the box. Three men and three women make the jury official.
Your little group of nervous strangers are ushered into the juror's quarters where you are given verbal and written instructions to avoid research or related discussion before the trial. The Bailiff introduces himself, he takes questions. You are told "No, this is not a television show," when you ask if note-taking is allowed during the trial—his answer makes you feel stupid. Note-taking helps you combat your ADD! You have no idea if this is something jurors do on television, and aren't necessarily familiar with courtroom rules. Why would you be? So you jokingly and lightly reply, "Well, nobody asked me about my memory in there!" You get a few laughs. And with that, you spend the weekend trying not to think about Monday.
Monday arrives quickly but you feel slightly more confident and curious about the case. What could have occurred that would need two days in court to settle? You've prepared your mind to consider only the facts as presented to you. You feel slightly proud to be wearing your juror name tag around your neck and into the courthouse. You're about to fulfill your civic duty! After observing the behavior of some of the jury pool, you realize how in-need this community is of good people who are willing to do what's needed for the benefit of all.
After the bailiff calls out "Jurors in the hall!" you and your fellow jurors are led down the hallway into the jury quarters. You are shown the coffee maker, the fridge, the bathrooms (the entrances are INSIDE the room) and how to use the "alarm" that will notify anyone in the hallway that a juror is coming.
Ten minutes later the judge steps in and says, "I have some good news and some bad news." And he begins to give you the dirt: The good news is you get to go home. The bad news is that the trial is being thrown out. Here's what you learn:
The defendant is in the states on a Visa. He was pulled over for driving while intoxicated and tested at a .15 blood alcohol level (legal limit is .08). The trial was going to be a battle of the experts in regards to the tests used to obtain blood alcohol levels and so forth. But, the part the judge is frustrated about? He'd just come out of a preliminary hearing where it was proven it all started with a bad traffic stop. Which by law, means anything occurring after the stop is now inadmissible in court.
The defendant had been going 61 mph in a 65 zone and slightly swerving. But, the argument was that he could have been going slightly slower because a cop was behind him. So that detail would have to be ignored. And this meant the swerving alone wasn't enough to uphold the traffic stop—so anything that happened after the stop wasn't admissible.
The judge is angry. He says this young man is VERY lucky. You guess the judge probably leaned into the guy before coming in to talk to the jurors. You aren't told any further details, but you can tell the judge didn't want to let this one go.
Everyone is thanked for their time served. You make a motion with your hands, swooshing down and out while saying "Whoooooo." Which is what you know everyone is feeling because they releases their breath too with a chuckle. You all collect your paychecks which pay for two days of parking, leaving you $16 total compensation for your time. It’s an experience you don't want to repeat, though inevitable. But you’ll be prepared for the unexpected next time! Perhaps.
