Reporting for Duty

Yesterday, I drove to downtown Detroit to the Frank Murphy Hall of Justice to report for jury duty. For those of you unfamiliar, this is where criminal cases in Wayne County are tried. Fortunately (for me) I was not selected to be on a jury and was released t 12:30 p.m. for the day and year (at least!).

I know, I know, I know.  It's an honor and a privilege to serve on a jury.  It's one of the things that makes our legal system one of the best in the world--the opportunity to be judged by a panel of your peers, not soldiers, leaders, or the government. The judge kept reiterating how it was such an "honor" for us to be called upon.  I kept thinking "If it's such an honor, why isn't someone paying for my $10 a day parking?  And, why do I have to be here at 7:45 a.m. if we're not even getting started until 9:30?"

Being forced out of my comfort zone on a monsoon morning, driving in rush-hour traffic, paying for parking, and playing hurry-up-and-wait all day is not an honor. But what can you do?

When I entered the building, I immediately fell in line for the security check.  I made sure not to bring in my cell phone, which is prohibited, or any sharp objects (like my wit--ha, ha). At first, I felt like I was at the airport, because the drill was the same. Remove your jacket, empty your pockets from change and keys and place them in the plastic bowls, and set your possessions on the conveyor belt for x-ray screening.  I said to the  sheriff, I feel like I'm going on a trip!  He replied "Yeah, and it's going to be a long one."  Hmmmm....not a good sign.

My fellow prospective jurors and I sat in the jury pool room for about 45 minutes before we began receiving any instructions on how our day would proceed.  In that time, I pulled out the Free Press that I picked up at the snack shop located inside the lobby  and munched on some grapes I had brought from home.

As I sat there, it was hard not to observe all that was going on around me, even though I tried my darnedest to focus on that newspaper. Every seat was filled and elbow room was a precious commodity.  I found it interesting that some people came armed with books, and magazines, and newspapers, and some chose to come totally unarmed. The guy next to me, who was dressed like an intelligent professional, brought nothing. I thought to myself "What were you thinking, dude?"  He looked so bored, and kept squirming in his seat.  I could feel his eye balls wandering over to my paper.  At times, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his legs, with his chin cupped in his hand. Much the way a little boy does when he's waiting for his mom to be done trying on clothes at the department store. 

After we watched an informational video and were given additional instructions, we were given a 15-minute break so all smokers could go outside and have a cigarette before the day really began.  Many jumped at the chance. The woman in charge explained that since all smokers' lighters were confiscated at the security checkpoint, they had lighters at the counter that were confiscated from last week's jurors that people could borrow. She actually had a great sense of humor, recognized that no one really wanted to be there at this particular moment, and helped us get through it with a chuckle.

During the break, I sat there and began to work my crossword puzzle.  It was a challenge not to overhear some of the conversations going on around me.  Two women sitting behind me had become fast friends.  One had stepped out into the lobby to check out the convenient shop next door.  She came back and reported to her new best friend what a wonderful little shop it was. In her opinion, the pizza looked pretty darn good, and "they even sell lotto tickets!" I smiled to myself, thinking, this woman must not get out much.  She's actually having fun! She talked about how she was saving a trip to one of the casinos for the end of the day.

Finally, names of people were called and groups were formed.  I happened to be called in the third or fourth grouping.  We were taken upstairs to the fifth floor, and had to be put in an overflow room until the judge and attorneys were ready for us to be brought in.  After another 45-minute wait, they were ready for us to be brought in.  As soon as we all filed in and sat down, we were told another issue had come up for the attorneys and judge to work out, so we had to turn right back around and go back to the holding room.  Maybe 15 minutes later, we returned to the court room for jury selection.

After the judge gave us the lowdown on his courtroom rules--take your coats off, no eating, drinking, or gum chewing--he explained that our day for his courtroom would go until 12:30 p.m. for the day.  Then, if you were selected to be on the jury, the case would begin the next day and go all day, late into the night--possibly until 7 or 8 p.m. He asked if this would pose a hardship for anyone.  

Immediately, multiple hands shot up in the air. A few people were excused because they were full time students and they had exams this week.  They were already missing one day, and if they were empaneled they would miss the next.  

One gentleman, who said he had been out of work for the last four months, had a job interview with EDS the next day.  The judge thought about it carefully, and then released him.  Another woman said she had an eight-month old baby at home that needed to be breast fed.  She said she tried to get it to take a bottle last week, but it just wasn't working.  What could he do?  He let her go.  

Some people were denied excusal, however.  This included a nurse who said she was on call during the late afternoon and evening hours, and a gentleman who indicated that he could not sit for more than a couple of hours in a row because he had a bad back.  The judge graciously said he could stand up whenever he needed to.  What a guy! By then, I decided that raising my hand to tell him "I had a blog to attend to and a cat at home who was wondering where his morning snacks were" was not going to be received well.  

Fourteen names were randomly pulled out by the court clerk.  Twelve were selected for the actual jury, and two were selected for substitutes, should the need arise during the case. As the names were read, you could see that everyone was thinking "Oh God, please please, pleeeeeeeaaasssse don't call me."

Once your name was called, you had to go sit in the jury section.  Each person had a questionnaire on their chair and they were instructed to read it and answer the questions aloud.  It consisted of questions like what is your name, what is your spouse's name, what do you do, what does your spouse do, level of education, friends or relatives who are in law enforcement or in the legal system, have you ever studied law, have you ever been a victim of a crime, have you or anyone in your family ever been arrested, and do you own a gun?  I thought to myself, "Holy crap!"  Who's on trial here? 

I was amazed at how many people had been victims of home robberies and car thefts, and how many people owned guns.  As the judge questioned them specifically about how this or that might affect their judgement pertaining to this case, I thought to myself "Dude, don't even pretend that it's going to affect your judgement.  You CAN do this!!!!"  In the end, the attorneys only excused two people.  One was a skateboarder who worked at a skate park and had some experiences with the police.  I guess the prosecuting attorney felt like he wouldn't look favorably upon police officers (who were the majority of the witnesses). The second was a woman who indicated that her sister had been prosecuted for murder.  Buh, bye!

Now that they were excused, this meant they had to draw two more names out of the jar.  You could just see everyone who hadn't been chosen yet thinking, "Oh, come on. I'm so close.  Please, don't say my name." It was almost as if Ryan Seacrest would be calling our names to let us know who was now in the bottom two. In the end, the two replacements passed muster and the jury panel was formed and the rest of us were excused.   

On the way home, I thought about how they really need to hire a PR firm to rework the "jury" image.  Something that would make people want to be on a jury and feel honored and privileged.  Pay for our parking, start on time and value our time, and have cuter attorneys in the court room--not one of those lawyers looked like Jimmy Smits from LA Law. Because realistically, the majority of us just want to say "We the jury, just want to go home."