Civic Duty part 2

Now, the judge had said that if we were excused, not to take it personally or as a blow to your character. And I did just that! How dare him, I fumed walking back up those four flights of stairs, how dare he think I can’t be impartial! And I know I know what a grand jury does. I can just set it aside and –

Then I realized: I was excused. Excused! I would not have to give up two or three weeks of my time, time I could not afford away from my job. The last time I took three weeks off from my job I was replaced. I felt relieved, though I still inwardly fumed a bit.

It was lunchtime. I ate the snack I brought. I didn’t expect to be there all day (“Come in to work as soon as they excuse you!” my boss pleaded with me the day before) but it looked like they were going to make good on their threat and hold us until 4:30.

Right after lunch, at 1:30, they called another panel.

I got nervous.

Then it was 2, and no further panels were called. I started a crossword puzzle. I texted work. I charged my phone and surfed the web a bit. I people-watched, until I spotted an elderly Indian woman take off her sandal and vigorously pick between her toes. Then I went back to the crossword puzzle.

2:45. I started feeling energetic. There had been a palpable feeling of blah in that room. No one wanted to be there. A few were quite verbal about it, loudly mocking our captors among themselves. But most just settled into that quiet life of desperation. Kinda like the line at the Department of Motor Vehicles. But when I saw 3 o’clock approach, I began counting the minutes until freedom –

“New panel for Judge so-and-so!” the clerk called. She crawled up to the podium and rattled off names. Mine included.

Another panel! At three in the afternoon! Ah!

This time it was only twenty of us. None of us wanted to be on that line. We were all tired, drained, head-achy, and everyone wanted to escape the prison of the juror pen for the beautiful sunny day outside the barred windows. (I don’t know if they were barred but it felt like they were.) All of us shambled on out the door following the court officer to our new purgatory, like orange-suited members of a chain gang shackled together at the ankles.

Now it was a civil case. We shuffled into the new court room, smaller, denser, quite claustrophobic compared to the one that held the criminal trial. A Soviet-era air conditioner as big as the front end of a Volkswagen rattled behind the juror box, frosting the room to meat locker condition. I saw that five jurors had already been selected from the morning sessions. They would look to us twenty for the remaining seven.

After ten minutes the “All rise!” sounded and the judge came in. For the fourth time I heard the patriotic speech. He mentioned his uncle and grandfather dying in various wars for our right to have a trial by jury. Yes, I know, I agree, I only wish the system was practically reformed somehow.

Then, all the jurors except me and the girl next to me, sitting in front of that old rattling AC, got up and left.

What?

The girl stood up, as did I. “Excuse me, sir,” she said to the judge, “with this air conditioner being so noisy, I didn’t hear what you said.”

He did not deign to answer her. I looked back and forth between the two. He sat there, stonily in silence, lidded eyeballs frostily glaring at her.

I silently cursed and realized I was squandering my chance. I immediately bee-lined to the door, not looking back, and followed the last potential juror out into the hall.

On the way back up I later discovered that the judge had simply said, “If serving on this jury would be a hardship to you, you can leave,” and up left 18 people. For the life of me I cannot figure out why he said that, in lieu of the hardball tactics the prior judge played with us. Is it because of the difference between a criminal and a civil trial? Dunno. Have to ask the next lawyer I meet.

Back in the pen, I pulled out a paperback on the civil war and started to read, but couldn’t get in to it. Then, at 3:15, the lady guard stood up and made an announcement: “You are all free to leave. Thank you for serving. A check will be mailed out to you, and there are letters at the door once you are scanned out.”

A huge smile spread across my face. Aretha Franklin sung “Freedom!” in my head. Adrenaline pumped as I packed my bag and got on the line to leave (a whole day of lines, I realized). Got in the car and zoomed out of there, placing a quick call to my boss who said everything went well with payroll. Alleluia!

Took Patch with me to Barnes and Noble and picked up a science fiction paperback as a reward. It would be my $5 jury duty check well spent!