Civic Duty

Yeah, been real busy round these parts lately.

While finally healthy, I just haven’t had any time to sit down and collect my thoughts to write. Laptop’s been temperamental. Work’s been crazy – more projects than a lone payroll manager can handle. Plus the tax job has kicked back in. Had a kick-off meeting last Thursday night, and did five hours so far of online training at home since. Little One’s now a bona fide Yankee fan, keeping box scores and checking mlb.com a hundred times a day, so we’ve suffered through the sweep by Boston and gloated over the victory over the hapless White Sox last night.

Now, in the cool of my office before the day opens up, I have a few minutes, and want to speak about Hopper performing his civic duty.

I was called for jury service a week ago.

The first time I had to answer the summons was sometime in the late 80s. Due to, or thanks to, rather, a glitch in the system, I wasn’t called again for twenty years. Next time I was out of work by watching my young ’uns, so I wrote the court asking to be excused as a caretaker, and I was. Last May I got another summons, and this time I couldn’t wriggle out of it.

Unfortunately, my day fell during a payroll week. I did all the prep work that I could, but my boss had to actually process payroll. Fortunately, no mistakes were made. Which is indeed fortunate, as I do payroll for 650 folks, and I wouldn’t want a line of 650 folks outside my door on payday. Still, though, it was unnecessarily stressful. Thank you for that, court system.

Should I mention that my experience at the court house was a negative one? Okay. It was a learning experience, too, one that I don’t wish to repeat. But why negative? Oh, let me count the ways …

I arrived at the court house at 8 am sharp, as I was informed to report at the jury duty room WITH MY ORIGINAL SUMMONS NOTICE at 8:15. I did, and was herded into a 50 x 50 foot room after being scanned in, along with about 120 other potential jurors. I sat on a folded metal chair at the end of a row. The chairs were all crammed too close to their neighbors. That was a negative right there.

At 8:15 a judge came in to address us, thanking us profusely for accepting the call to serve. (She didn’t mention it was under pain of contempt of court though.) She prattled on about civic duty, our constitution, our court system, how people fought and died for the right to trial by jury. I get it. I got it. I agree wholeheartedly with it. I agree with the sacrifice that regular citizens like me and those called to serve have to bear once every three years. I get it, I love it, I am patriotic, I don’t wish to radically change the system, like our socialist friends on the far left.

But, dammit, there has to be a better way! And by better way, I mean the practical nuts and bolts of jury duty.

For example, right after this blustery patriotic speech extolling our heroism, for the next eight hours we were treated like prisoners. Or school children. Our whereabouts must always be known. Yes, we could go to the bathroom unattended, but if I had to go out to make a call, or to my car, or wherever, I had to be scanned out and then scanned back in.

At 9:30 the first group of potential jurors was called. I was not among the forty or so. But 45 minutes later a second group was called, I among them. It was for a criminal case.

We followed a police officer down four flights of stairs to the court room. It was kept very chilly. This new judge lectured us for ten minutes about our heroism and the greatness of the system. Got it, check. Then he proceeded to treat us like school children.

For example: “Okay, when you are done filling out your questionnaire, you are to put it face down on the bench next to you. Do we all understand that? Face down. You are not to look at it again until you are called up … Does everybody understand that? … Does everybody understand that? … Does anybody NOT understand that? Raise your hand if you DO NOT understand that? … if you DO NOT understand that … Okay?”

There were thirty questions to be answered, and I answered them all honestly. The judge then had us all turn our forms back over so we could look at them. He asked those who said “yes” to certain questions – questions reflecting impartiality toward the defendant, the system, the police – to stand up against the wall. I was not among them; I marked down I would be able to be impartial. Those standing he immediately excused.

Then he, the prosecutor, and the defense attorney went to a table off to the side and called us remaining potential jurors up, one by one. There were about 15 of us, and each interview took five or ten minutes. I was the last to be called up.

The interview went off the rails pretty quickly. The judge opened with, “Do you think our legal system is fair.” I said, “Yes.” He countered: “Why?” Huh? I was not prepared for an oral exam. I babbled about the constitution, the first and second amendments, how I was a student of history, how I read the founding fathers. I was completely incoherent.

Then we bogged down on the concept of grand jury and indictments. He asked if I could be impartial to the defendant despite his being indicted by a grand jury. I said “yes”, and he asked me to explain the concept of an indictment. I said that it was my understanding that in a criminal trial evidence is presented to a grand jury to see if there is enough to proceed to a trial by jury. “Since we’re now doing a jury trial, something must have been there – ”

“Juror is excused,” Judge interrupted, and I immediately ceased to exist for him. I packed up my stuff and left the court room, and headed back to the holding pen.

Part two tomorrow …