Where are the dancing bears?
I've got jury duty this Wednesday. In honor of that and because I haven't posted anything in a while, here's a column that originally ran in the Statesboro Herald on December 10, 2004, right after my last experience with jury duty. (Yes, I'm aware the blog title isn't a song title, but I'm using the headline that went with the column, sorry.) I hope everyone had a good holiday season (I'll cover mine in greater detail later.)
This past Wednesday, I experienced first-hand the fun and excitement of jury duty - and by “fun and excitement” I mean constant boredom.
Anyway, I kept a running diary. Here it is.
7:15 a.m. — You’ve got to be kidding me. Now I know why people are wrongfully convicted. The jurors are upset at having to get up this early. I can count on one hand the times in the past year I’ve been up this early. Already, the day’s off to a bad start.
8:15 a.m. — The summons I received told me I had to be at the judicial annex at this time or face a fine of up to $300. Yet here I am and no sign of any official-looking people.
8:30 a.m. — We’re been assigned a number and told that will be our name for the day.
So basically, so far I’ve gotten up early and been told that the name on my driver’s license (a legal document for identification purposes) isn’t good enough and I’ll be referred to by a number.
It’s the personal touches that make our government so great.
9 a.m. — Judge William Woodrum arrives and tells us that he’s happy to see us all. I get the feeling he tells all prospective jurors that, so I’m not sure how much he actually meant it.
9:25 a.m. — Now that we’ve been here over an hour the attorneys are finally asking questions to the jurors. They break the group into panels, and I’m not in the first group, so there’s no chance I could be selected. Fortunately for me, I’ve got a good book.
9:30 a.m. — I’ve only been here an hour and 15 minutes and my back is hurting from these chairs. There’s a nice metal bar in the middle of my back, making it nearly impossible to sit back and relax. Is it to much to ask for comfortable chairs . . . oh, it is. Ok, then, carry on.
9:45 a.m. — I just realized they never checked any ID. Anyone could have come in my place and lied.
By the way, next time I’m called for jury duty, I’m auctioning my place off on Ebay. (Note: I know it's late notice, but anyone intrested in taking my spot Wednesday. I'd appreciate it.)
10 a.m. — The bailiff turned the air conditioner on about an hour ago and I think they forgot about it. Either that or they’re simply preparing the room for its night use of being a meat locker.
10:45 a.m. — Finally, I’m in the pool of potential jurors for a case. This one involves a man allegedly pointing a gun at someone and a case of road rage. Unfortunately, still no theme music from “Law & Order.”
Anyway, I end up knowing one of the attorneys and had interviewed him a couple times for various stories. I don’t know if that had any effect, but . . .
12 noon — I didn’t get chosen for the case. And now we get a 90 minute lunch break. No wonder we only get $25, they make up for it with long lunch breaks.
2 p.m. — I really wish the bailiffs would begin painting the walls. Not that I think the room needs to be repainted, but at least I could watch the paint dry as a form of entertainment. Or maybe some dancing bears in a cage off to the side. Something, anything to pass the time.
2:05 p.m. — Maybe it’s a good thing those walls weren’t painted as some excitement begins. One of the jurors is called up to the bench because she feels she couldn’t be an impartial juror. Maybe I should try that trick for the next time.
2:15 p.m. — Someone gets picked for their second trial. There’s obvious empathy for this person as everyone turns to their neighbor and said “that’s her second one. I’m glad I’m not her.” She deserves some kind of award.
3 p.m. — For the second time, I avoid being selected for a case. This one was a cocaine sale. There’s only two more cases to go, so it’s looking good that I won’t get picked.
You know, jury selection is like the opposite of kickball when you were a kid. No one wants to get picked first, or at all.
4:15 — One last case, but its a good one. The defendant is accused of robbing several gas stations. However, there’s a glimmer of hope for me. Judge Woodrum tells us the trial is scheduled for December 14-15, and Yes Dear’s sister is graduating that night. When the judge asks if anyone has a conflict. I tell him my situation. I guess having a sister-in-law graduating from college is a good enough excuse as neither attorney objected and I was sent home for the day.
As I’m leaving, someone tells me, “well, looks like you got out of it.” Sweeter words have never been spoken.
This past Wednesday, I experienced first-hand the fun and excitement of jury duty - and by “fun and excitement” I mean constant boredom.
Anyway, I kept a running diary. Here it is.
7:15 a.m. — You’ve got to be kidding me. Now I know why people are wrongfully convicted. The jurors are upset at having to get up this early. I can count on one hand the times in the past year I’ve been up this early. Already, the day’s off to a bad start.
8:15 a.m. — The summons I received told me I had to be at the judicial annex at this time or face a fine of up to $300. Yet here I am and no sign of any official-looking people.
8:30 a.m. — We’re been assigned a number and told that will be our name for the day.
So basically, so far I’ve gotten up early and been told that the name on my driver’s license (a legal document for identification purposes) isn’t good enough and I’ll be referred to by a number.
It’s the personal touches that make our government so great.
9 a.m. — Judge William Woodrum arrives and tells us that he’s happy to see us all. I get the feeling he tells all prospective jurors that, so I’m not sure how much he actually meant it.
9:25 a.m. — Now that we’ve been here over an hour the attorneys are finally asking questions to the jurors. They break the group into panels, and I’m not in the first group, so there’s no chance I could be selected. Fortunately for me, I’ve got a good book.
9:30 a.m. — I’ve only been here an hour and 15 minutes and my back is hurting from these chairs. There’s a nice metal bar in the middle of my back, making it nearly impossible to sit back and relax. Is it to much to ask for comfortable chairs . . . oh, it is. Ok, then, carry on.
9:45 a.m. — I just realized they never checked any ID. Anyone could have come in my place and lied.
By the way, next time I’m called for jury duty, I’m auctioning my place off on Ebay. (Note: I know it's late notice, but anyone intrested in taking my spot Wednesday. I'd appreciate it.)
10 a.m. — The bailiff turned the air conditioner on about an hour ago and I think they forgot about it. Either that or they’re simply preparing the room for its night use of being a meat locker.
10:45 a.m. — Finally, I’m in the pool of potential jurors for a case. This one involves a man allegedly pointing a gun at someone and a case of road rage. Unfortunately, still no theme music from “Law & Order.”
Anyway, I end up knowing one of the attorneys and had interviewed him a couple times for various stories. I don’t know if that had any effect, but . . .
12 noon — I didn’t get chosen for the case. And now we get a 90 minute lunch break. No wonder we only get $25, they make up for it with long lunch breaks.
2 p.m. — I really wish the bailiffs would begin painting the walls. Not that I think the room needs to be repainted, but at least I could watch the paint dry as a form of entertainment. Or maybe some dancing bears in a cage off to the side. Something, anything to pass the time.
2:05 p.m. — Maybe it’s a good thing those walls weren’t painted as some excitement begins. One of the jurors is called up to the bench because she feels she couldn’t be an impartial juror. Maybe I should try that trick for the next time.
2:15 p.m. — Someone gets picked for their second trial. There’s obvious empathy for this person as everyone turns to their neighbor and said “that’s her second one. I’m glad I’m not her.” She deserves some kind of award.
3 p.m. — For the second time, I avoid being selected for a case. This one was a cocaine sale. There’s only two more cases to go, so it’s looking good that I won’t get picked.
You know, jury selection is like the opposite of kickball when you were a kid. No one wants to get picked first, or at all.
4:15 — One last case, but its a good one. The defendant is accused of robbing several gas stations. However, there’s a glimmer of hope for me. Judge Woodrum tells us the trial is scheduled for December 14-15, and Yes Dear’s sister is graduating that night. When the judge asks if anyone has a conflict. I tell him my situation. I guess having a sister-in-law graduating from college is a good enough excuse as neither attorney objected and I was sent home for the day.
As I’m leaving, someone tells me, “well, looks like you got out of it.” Sweeter words have never been spoken.
posted by Luke at 12:02 PM
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