To Hell and Back without leaving town

I have been to hell and back and I didn't even have to leave town.

Rather, I answered my jury summons. It seems that jury duty is getting so popular in these parts, the county has to send out 1500 "invitations" in order to impanel four juries totaling 48 people.

But, one only has to take a stroll through the process to see why when the oversized green form makes its way into one's box, one runs the other way or puts one's house up for sale.

And quite a stroll it will be. The only place that moves slower than a county courthouse on impaneling day is the trauma center at midnight. We were admonished to show up at 8:30a.m. While we wait like opening night theater goers, the judge comes in at 8:45a.m. to announce the bench is now open to hear good reasons why someone should be excused from this plague upon their house. Most of the reasons the judge allows are rather intractable reasons and could have been handled in a more efficient way: some way invented since the telegraph. But no! The three hundred or more (not 1500) wait as the Judge listens to each person state the reason why they are better than the rest of us and should be excused. Such a parade takes about 45 minutes.

At that point, we take a break. Judges are fond of breaks. I don't know if they have weak bladders, or they get a part of the concessions in the courthouse. The alleged reason for the break is so that everyone who is left, can be entered into a computer where they will be randomly sorted for the four juries to be picked. Apparently, numbering 1-2-3-4 in not judicial enough. So, we take a thirty minute break.

Forty minutes later we are asked to take our seats, where we are promptly reshuffled according to the computer's random picking. I get picked for the first pool. I have rarely been so honored. Every name is called, every person seated, every person put in their proper seat. Then having labored so intensively, we are directed to the court room where we are to appear, and we take another break. Our courthouse is four stories tall and can be reached by elevator or stairs in a matter of minutes. There are rest rooms on every floor so long breaks are just wasting time. But we take a 20 minute break which gives us time to reach our destination.

Then we are seated, where we undergo a group cross examination that is a cross between a poorly done lecture on the judicial system, an informational session on what the case is about, questions to prospective jurors that go from the mundane to the insane and chit-chat that will help us like the attorney. Then, because we have taken so many breaks, we break for lunch. But, only for an hour.

One hour later, we are in our places outside the courtroom: all except the token later arrivals who are compelled to be late. Just as surely as the judge must be late, the process slow, the seats uncomfortable, these folks must be late. And they are. Now if the judge were on time, it would be a true act of justice, perhaps the first in the history of the courthouse, to fine these people for wasting our time, but if he did that, then he would have to fine himself, and where would it all end?

The defense attorney starts her list of questions, but since the prosecutor has done such a good job of asking her questions, the defense attorney only has about 400 more. Things do not appear to be going well in the Chancellor seat, and it appears for the first time in his adult life, he might be picked to serve on a jury. So, with a careful slight of hands and crafty words, he looks the defense attorney in the eyes--all three of them (oh wait, that is just my glasses on crooked), and tells her why he would not feel himself willing to serve on this particular jury at this particular time. So what do we do? We take a break. Everyone is to stand outside the court room until we are summoned back in. We leave like sheep and return like sheep.

Each person is sitting waiting to see if they have won the jury lottery. Slowly, the names are read. Slowly the person's shoulders slump and they slowly rise from their seat and glare at the defendant. (He is already guilty, and you can read it in their faces) Slowly the twelve chairs fill up and just before I pass out from holding my breath, the last name is called and the jury death angel has passed over once again.

I have no problem with serving on a jury. But this particular jury, on this particular subject was more than I could handle.

So, after wasting a day,(I exited the building at 3:00) I went to my car knowing that I had contributed to the convoluted system of American justice by sitting in several chairs, using the concession machine, using the facilities, and walking up and down the stairs. And best of all, taking breaks!

Did I mention I also earned $7.50 to boot?