Yes, yes...lawyers suck. We all know that. However, they're not the only ones.
As some of you may know, I reported for jury duty earlier this week. So far as I was able to tell, there were only three cases that needed jurors: Two civil and one criminal.
As I sat in the central jury pool, I heard the judge say that they had sent out over 450 summons to report that day; however, only 123 showed up. After those that supposedly had a good reason were excused by the judge, that left exactly 80 of us. As I sat there quietly reading my book, I was also listening to the comments and conversations around me. Many of the things I heard made my stomach turn: "I have work to do--I don't need to be here." "This is a colossal waste of my time." "There are so many other things I could be doing, but no---I'm here." And the best one of all, "I'm missing all my shows." Two seats to my left was a lawyer. I knew he was a lawyer because he told everyone--lots of times. He was complaining about how many cases were on his desk, and he didn't have time for this, either. Violating my own vow to just keep my peace, I asked him, "With you being a lawyer, shouldn't you of all people be supporting this system instead of griping about it? How many times did you sit around in your law school classes with your classmates complaining about how jurors never show up, and when they do they weasel out of it? I know you're a lawyer--hell, everyone in the room knows--and you're not going to be picked, so why didn't you fill out the back of the summons excusing yourself?" For my efforts, I received quite the condescending sneer. This of course caused me to burst into tears and run crying from the room. At least I suppose that's what he thought I would do. What an amateur. But worst of all was this kid about 23 or 24 years old. With such a large room, I was mystified as to how he always seemed to be within my earshot. He was being such a used feminine hygiene product, walking around whining about the police, the lawyers, the courts, the whole judicial system, and basically America as a whole. You'll want to remember him for later, so let's name him. I'll call him Punk-Ass Bitch, or just PAB for short.
After a brief wait, 20 people go to the civil court, and the other 60 of us go to the criminal court. On the short walk to the courthouse, PAB is now puling and whimpering about the temperature and the wind. Guess he doesn't own a TV or a radio to check the weather with... Anyway, we get seated in the courtroom and learn the nature of the case. The basics were: it was a felony drug case against one individual and involved a BUTTLOAD of cocaine, with the charges being simple enough--possession with intent to distribute. As the DA's representative (I'll call her ADA, even though I don't know if that's right) was explaining procedures and expectations, she had some questions. I don't remember them all, but I do remember two. Question #1: "Does anyone know the defendant or any of the potential witnesses that I've listed?" Four or five people said yes, but they indicated that it wouldn't have any bearing on their ability to be fair and impartial (pretty sure at least two were lying). ADA then goes on to tell us that the range of penalties we could assign ran from 5 years/$10,000 fine all the way up to life in prison. I'm not a legal expert, but that told me this probably wasn't that guy's first rodeo if he's guilty.
An aside: When I first heard "drug case," I almost became sexually aroused. I DESPISE drugs. I absolutely LOATHE and ABHOR them. I've seen too many people's lives ruined or prematurely ended because of them. Here's my chance to rip another scumbag doper off the streets, right? Well, as I thought about how I was fairly certain a couple of people were lying about their knowledge of the defendant not having any bearing on their decision, I realized that I was lying as well. I was prepared to convict this guy without hearing a shred of evidence. Feeling guilty, I used some time to ignore the lawyers and just think about it. It was then that The Big Thought hit me, and it's so obvious as to have made me feel stupid. What a tremendous honor and privilege (however potentially grim the outcome) to be entrusted with such a heavy responsibility! Regardless of my feelings about the drug issue, I wasn't here to judge the drug issue, nor was I here to judge the man. I was to judge whether or not a particular event occurred, and that was all. If the event DID occur, then I was to help decide what should be done about it. With all the recent talk of America becoming a police state, I decided then and there that the State would have to have done its job properly to the point that I could honestly say there was no reasonable doubt that the event occurred. In heavy decisions, we must set aside our personal feelings and biases and truly examine what is right in light of factual evidence.
The next question the ADA posed was, "I'm going to ask each one of you by name the same question. Can you envision a hypothetical situation--any hypothetical situation--where you feel that the range of penalties (5yrs/$10K to life) would be fair and justified?" Out of the sixty men and women, almost HALF said no, they couldn't!!! This was where my temper started firing up. What in the bloody monkey f**k with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles WAS this s**t?!?!? NO situation? OK, how about this--I come to your house in the middle of the night, break in, rape and kill your wife, beat the piss out of you, steal your flat screen TV's and BMW, and sexually molest your pets? You'd be calling for my head on a pike on the courthouse lawn at noon, and be right to do so! By the way, PAB was one of the refusers, and by far the most vocal of them about it.
This meant that they couldn't get the 32 people required for final screening and selection by the lawyers. The judge was absolutely disgusted, and said that this was the third time they'd tried to bring the case to trial and couldn't. Oh, he was pissed!
So in line to get a note for the boss, I hear at least 6 different people saying basically, "I knew that would work to get me out of this." The veins in my forehead are starting to pulse now. Then I hear PAB, two people behind me, expressing his pleasure that this didn't go to trial.
I am so done.
I turn to him, and give him the following diatribe, although I was at least civil and reasonably courteous:
"Happy? You're happy? Were you paying attention at all in there? This arrest was made a year and a half ago! This guy's been on the hook for this for a year and a half. I don't know where he's spent that time--maybe in jail, house arrest, out on bail, I don't know. But I do know this: What if he's innocent? What if he didn't do it? How can a man find a decent job or be able to take any responsibility with a felony indictment on his head? Are YOU prepared to find a way to make up that year and a half to him? And how about the other side: What if he's guilty? What if he's guilty and was out on bail? How much more cocaine did he sell, and to whom? What if a kid died from an overdose? What if innocent people died as a result of the violence that always comes with the drug trade? Then what? Now, thanks to you and a bunch of other people here, the trend continues. Whichever scenario might be true--it continues."
He responded to me by giving his oh-so-well-educated and experienced opinion on the legal system's faults, ending with, "The legal system here is just trash, man...it's all f**ked up." I said, "You know what? You're right. The system IS screwed up. And it's screwed up because of assholes like you!"
This got the attention of the bailiff and the ADA who were out in the hall. I was fully prepared to accept whatever the consequence might be of calling a guy an asshole in a courthouse, but suffice to say they didn't seem to worry all that much about it.
The worst part of it all is this: Within a month, these same people are going to be sitting around their homes watching the news and crying about the crime rate. Worse yet, some of them may be victims of crimes. In either case, their response will be to call for justice. They'll be wondering why someone doesn't do something about it.
Not a one of them will think that they ARE the "someone," and that they once had the chance to do something about it, but selfishly weaseled out of it instead.
Remember this story the next time you get a jury summons. Yes, it's a pain. No, you probably won't be chosen. But it's your responsibility to take part in the system and to take it seriously. You will be the "someone," and you will have the chance to "do something about it."
