Jury Duty: the Good Citizen job

Jury summons

The dreaded envelope arrived. Superior Court of California, County of San Francisco:

You are summoned for JURY SERVICE (capitalization theirs) during the week, and at the place indicated below. Please read the entire summons entirely…

Who has not received – usually with a little dread – that windowed envelope? Because it means a day, or a week, or a month or more of your life has just been appropriated for Citizenship Duty. That is, after all, what Jury Duty is all about: being the Good Citizen. Doing what you can for the greater good of your fellow citizens.

Actually, I have always loved jury duty. Over the years, my jury duty experiences have ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

There was the sweet young thing who scammed a few dozen friends and relations out of a few thousand dollars each, and wanted us to believe she really meant just to make everyone rich and didn’t understand why anybody was mad at her. The unanimous vote to convict came by about the time we got seated and organized.

There were times we deliberated to the point of exhaustion, and times I wondered if a better lawyer would have had us voting differently. There were plenty of times I spent a day or two and wasn’t chosen for duty; usually with a great sense of relief.

There was the time, in a jury pool for a domestic violence case, when the defense attorney introduced his spiffed-up client, and addressed the pool: “There could be implications about Mr. Smith… that he had a few glasses of wine…” The attorney smiled knowingly at us, wanting to be sure we’re all grown-ups and what’s a few glasses of wine after all? I was tempted to say, “Man, don’t give me that bull. You don’t want me on this jury, I will so fry your client.” But I asked to be excused, saying I felt personal bias would make it difficult for me to remain open-minded.

jury-selection-1

The only other time I asked to be excused was when the case involved two corporate entities and some sort of asbestos issue. The judge told us at the beginning that it could run six months. Six months? A couple of corporations wanted 12 citizens (plus alternates) to give up six months of their lives to settle something they should lock their lawyers into a small room to work out? I was beyond irate. The judge invited anyone who felt jury service would be a hardship to come to an adjacent room; virtually the entire pool rose. Uncertain what exactly I would say I began, “My brother-in-law is a chest physician…” and that was as far as I got. “Excused,” said the judge, without looking up. I wasn’t actually very sure where I was going with that explanation, but apparently the judge just wanted to get it over with. I felt sorry for him.

But that’s the way the system works. Good people go to law school, get to be judges and have to sit through all this. More good people give up their time to try to find justice for other good people and perhaps a little justice for the bad guys while they’re at it.

For now, though, I’m opting out. This presents a problem, since apparently you never age out of jury duty and there is no excuse box for Overwhelmed.

One can opt out if under 18, not a citizen, or if one has been convicted of a felony or malfeasance in office. Or if one has a physical or mental disability. None of the above quite worked for me.

At the bottom of the opting-out section, though, I discovered one can be excused if one has a full-time, non-professional obligation to provide care for a related disabled person and alternative arrangements are not possible during court hours. (California Rules of Court, rule 2.1008.)

At last. A reward for the caregiving business. Does caregiving equate to good citizenship? One hopes.

Juries of our peers

If I were on trial, I’d want someone like me – having worked hard to be open-minded throughout my entire good-citizenship career – for one of my jurors. But not for the jury to which I was just summoned. The prosecution may have wanted me; the defense would’ve had me outa there in a heartbeat.

It was a fascinating exercise. For openers, the giant jury assembly room was nearly filled, all of us summoned for this one trial. We were all duly sworn in on the spot, and eventually the judge and two main attorneys appeared. This case, the judge said, could be unpleasant for some, and complicated for others, and they hoped to sort it all out before getting down to business the next day. She then read out the form: a questionnaire about you the juror. Have you ever been sexually assaulted? Do you know anyone who has? And questions to that effect.

Here’s what the deal seemed to be: A woman had been abused by a guy. It didn’t seem to be rape; it seemed to be everything else. Kidnapping with intent to commit rape. Maybe attempted rape. Even attempted arousal for purposes of who knows what. The trial, if the judge’s overview was any indication, would turn on who you believed, and how far is too far. In the 1950s, when I had my own trials (physical/emotional, not judicial) with date rape/workplace rape of this exact sort, women had little power and less choice. Today it can come down to who has real power and who has real choice. Did she really go somewhere with him willingly? Did she say No? Did he listen?

Sorry guys, unless she’s 6′ tall and outweighs him by 40 pounds, I am going to lean toward the lady. Handily having a disabled husband to look after, I begged hardship exemption.

Hopefully, for plaintiff and defendant both, a jury of their peers was seated the next day.