The Gathering
You have been randomly
selected for jury duty, congratulations. Your mandated participation in jury
service helps to insure the democratic process and the individual rights of
each citizen. These lofty words were
the first to greet me when I opened my one and only jury summons recently. Thanks in
part to the word mandated, I
approached the experience with much trepidation, and many questions. I was not alone. About 150 of my fellow citizens were, I
deduced by the look in their perplexed and anxious eyes, in lock step with me. But dutifully we met, early one Monday
morning, at the new Criminal Courthouse in
Syracuse. This new facility had no real distinct character or architecture and
reminded me of a vanilla ice cream cone.
It could not compare with the ornate community fixture that is the “old”
courthouse, reverently residing across the street.
Past the screening devices and guards, we found our way to
our gathering place. It was a large,
nondescript room, a typical government utilitarian layout … functional and
largely void of any style or color, with plain walls, plain chairs, plain
furniture, and plain people. In short, it was as bland inside as out. Some
motivational posters were hung such that we could not miss them. Strange, I thought. Prospective jurors need some kind of
motivation to make the grade? Or was
this just a stab at a life philosophy for all, a lesson or two for us to take away,
free of charge?
Of course we had to “check in” before we could sit. The folks who had that chore were pleasant
enough, but infused with an attitude that betrayed that they have been there for a long, long time; the routine was very much ingrained in their
psyche. The chief processor of paper was
a nice person named Maureen, who I bet would have been absolutely delightful had she
not been conditioned by performing her part literally thousands of times. Her bland stabs at humor were met with
nervous, muted laughter. We were
interested in getting the process started.
We wanted to know what was next.
They, well they were on their own schedule, as we soon found out.
While uniforms of any
sort may NOT be worn, there is no specific dress code for jurors, and we ask
only that you dress in a manner that shows the proper respect for these
important court proceedings. Whoa! Proper respect? Cut off jean shorts with
holes, t-shirts fashioned likewise, and flip flops - appropriate in a
courtroom? I was, frankly, shocked at the
number of people who didn’t heed this part of the summons, but there they were,
in all their Wal-Mart glory (if you have a computer and more than 3 friends who
send you “themed” emails, you know what I mean). And no one seemed to care. I think a teachable moment passed here. But let’s face it, if you’ve reached juror
age and still don’t know when an occasion calls for appropriate dress, well,
you’re not very teachable.
First order of business…we filled out an elaborate
questionnaire (designed to weed out undesirables I’m sure), endured some speakers
doing “housekeeping” and orientation stuff, and for the first, but certainly
not the last time, heard the official mantra of jurors, attributable to Abraham
Lincoln: the highest calling of any citizen is to serve as a juror. I always thought it was to die for one’s
country. I like jury service better.
Thus inspired, we watched an excellent video explaining the judicial
process that, while riddled with faults, keeps our county in the sane lane. The
desired effect was achieved, as a distinct, noticeable change in our attitude descended
upon us like magical fairy dust. We had crossed the river. Suddenly, we internalized that a grave responsibility was about to become ours. It was as if
we had the whole world in our hands.
Well, at least some of us would hold that world.
Sometimes jurors have
to wait while important pre-trial activities take place. The trial process could involve unanticipated
delay. You are encouraged to bring a
book or magazine. Could involve delay?
That was an understatement. I
did…bring a book. I did…read a lot of
it. By and by, it was time for a
break. More and more, this was beginning
to resemble a military operation. Line
up, sit down, wait, kill time, take a break, wait some more; repeat same.
During the break I met an interesting gentleman who used no
filter describing to me what he thought of this experience. Loud enough to
render hearing aids unnecessary, he shared with me how the entire legal process
is tainted, everyone is on the take, OJ was guilty, and if called to be on this
jury, he would just go along with the majority so he could get the hell out of
here. He even said that if it weren’t
for the $1,000 fine for not showing up .. that he wouldn’t have! We shall call him “Jerry the juror,” for we will
see him later.
Next: The Choosing
Mark Twain Quote: "We have a criminal jury system which is superior to any in the world, and its efficiency is only marred by the dificulty of finding twelve men every day who don't know anything and can't read."
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