I was summoned to perform my civic responsibility, jury duty that is, for September 21st. It wasn’t the first time I was called forth for that so I knew what to expect when I got there. It was around 8 or so years ago when I was called in for jury selection. It was a lot of waiting around in a large room, waiting to be called forth to a courtroom to be interviewed by both a prosecutor and a defense attorney, for each to determine fairness and lack of bias from each potential juror. I knew last time that I could do that, listen to the facts and judge them without personal emotions.
When I sat in the courtroom last time 8 years ago, they put a bunch of us, 12 at a time, in the jury box and the judge gave us basic info about the charges, reminding us that all persons are presumed innocent until proven guilty. It was a narcotics crime that we would be doing if picked, a crime involving two people. While we waited for the other attorneys to start, I found myself looking at the very well-dressed drop-dead gorgeous co-defense attorney sitting at the defense table. I mused that if I were ever on trial, having a lawyer like that saving my ass would sure be easy on the eyes. Then I realized when the lawyers were speaking to the judge, that she wasn’t an attorney, she was the defendant. She sure was gorgeous though, and looked quite classy in her formal attire. Could I be fair and unbiased when I found myself captivated by her beauty?
I knew myself to be a logical and reasonable man; of course I would not let her beauty sway me. But how could someone so beautiful let herself get into the trouble she was accused of? How could someone with such looks be guilty? Ack! She was seducing me with her looks, pulling hints of bias from within me! I had to take control, assert myself, and remain just and impartial. Then I noticed her looking back at me, she knew I was staring at her. I wondered if she would tell her lawyer, and if he would select me based on that. If so, he would find himself surprised. I was too mature and logical a person to judge based on looks alone. Damn, she was pretty though.
This time in early September when I got the new jury summons it said for me to be there by 7:45 AM, which did not bode well for me. It meant that for me to be there in time I’d have to be at the bus stop at 6 AM, awake at 5 AM. Hell, I’m usually not in bed until 1 or 2 AM, sometimes later. How the hell would I wake up in time? I would have to ensure I was in bed by 11 PM, 12 AM the very latest, or risk oversleeping. Don’t ask me what time I finally went to bed, don’t even ask, but sure enough, I did oversleep and missed the bus. OK, what to do, what to do? Take the next bus and risk not getting to the courthouse in time, or take a taxi and pay $25 or more to get to the courthouse in downtown Fort Lauderdale? I’ve spent far too much on taxi fare over the last year from missing buses; I didn’t want to spend another $25-30 dollars. But jury duty is not something to take lightly, so how could I show up late?
I chose the bus route anyway, and made it to the courthouse only a few minutes late. Nobody noticed. And so began the day of sitting and waiting to be called up for potential selection. I hoped the day would end quickly.
Waiting, waiting, waiting…
We were all told to rise as a judge entered the waiting area.
We rose and waited.
He was introduced and he sat behind a long podium where he would tell us of what to expect that day.
We sat and listened.
His Honor told us of what to expect for that day; what to expect if we were chosen for court duty, or if not chosen. He talked about the US Constitution, the Justice System, the rights of all to a fair and speedy trial; and about our duties as jurors and the value of service. He ended his discourse with a lighthearted question no one was expected to have an answer to, but a question to provoke thought anyway. If a bird is inside a moving plane, flapping its wings and flying in place above one of the aisles while the plane is doing hundreds of miles per hour, does the bird add any weight to weight of the plane?
The defense attorney eight years ago asked me if I believed in redemption of character, or whether once accused they could not be trusted again. I told him that I did believe in redemption, that a person if guilty could be rehabilitated and return to make a positive commitment to society. I wasn’t sure if that was the answer he was looking for, but it was the truth from my views. Then the prosecutor stepped up to ask me some questions. One of those questions struck a chord for me. He asked me if when the police said a person was guilty whether I took their word for it, whether I took it for granted that when a person was charged with a crime, that they would not have been charged unless they were guilty. In other words, would I be willing to take their word for it? Interesting question. He was not expecting my answer.
“A few years ago my good friend’s wife was murdered by her coke-head brother, who then stabbed my friend 12 times and told the police it was my friend who killed her. My friend almost died, coming out of surgery to be told by the detective that his wife was dead and that they knew he was the one who killed her. When my friend was released from the hospital he was immediately arrested and held in jail for just short of 30 days, because the police said that he was guilty, yet with no evidence against him. Everybody knew he was innocent, even his wife’s mother and sister told the detective that they knew he was innocent. Yet he still remained in county jail for almost a month because the cops said he was guilty. Hell, even the nurse in my friend’s room said that he was still doped up from surgery when the detective got him to confess to killing his wife.
‘You wife is dead. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Whaaaa? Whaaa?’
‘She’s dead and we know you killed her.’
‘Huhhhh?’
‘You killed her but you killed her by accident, right?’
‘...whaaaa? …Uhhh, yeah….’”
My friend had told the police that his blood was all over the coke-head brother when he was fighting him off while being stabbed. The police said my friend was lying because when they arrested the brother (for assaulting my friend, while on probation) his clothes were not bloody. I myself, being a photographer, went to my friend’s apartment and the manager let me into the crime scene and I took photos. That’s right, it was a crime scene, with the yellow tape and all, and I walked right in. That’s how sloppy the police were. I photographed the telephone line that was cut, and the blood that was smeared all over the bed and walls in the bedroom where my friend fought his knife wielding attacker and fought him from wall to wall. The brother of his wife told police he stabbed my friend in the living room (he claimed that he stabbed him to save his sister, who was smothered in the living room), so why was my friend’s blood all over the bedroom? I showed those photos to the police and they didn’t care. After all, the brother wasn’t wearing bloody clothes when they arrested him, like my friend had said. That meant, according to the police, that my friend was a liar, and guilty as accused.
My friend was finally released as ordered by a judge, because they didn’t have enough evidence to charge him, but not yet free and clear and not allowed to leave the county. Later they also released the brother-in-law. When the coke-head brother was given his clothes and other possessions, he first had to put on the clothes he was wearing UNDER his clothes when he was arrested. And those clothes he wore unseen under the clothes the cops saw when they arrested him, were the very same bloody clothes my friend had told the police about. They had the evidence in their possession the entire time and never thought to look, because the police said my friend was guilty, and you can’t believe a guilty man, right?
Mind you, I did not relay that entire story to the questioning prosecutor, but I did tell him enough to let him know that there was no way I would believe in a person’s guilt simply because the police said the person was guilty. I needed to see evidence; I needed to see facts first.
The prosecutor told the judge he didn’t want me on his jury. It was clear, he wanted someone who would be easily swayed, who would not question accusations. That juror was not me.
That was what I thought about on September 21st as I sat waiting in the prospective jury waiting room. Then around 1 PM it was announced that they had all the jurors they needed for the day and we were all free to leave, our service fulfilled. We were thanked for our time and told we would not be called again for a minimum of 12 months. I headed home, but I must admit I was disappointed. I would like to have experienced a court trial, and served. Nobody wants to have to do jury duty, but I would have still liked to have contributed somewhat and made a difference for guilt or innocence.
Someday I may get to serve in a trial, though it probably won’t be like the dramatic trials we see in the movies and TV. It may go something like this joke I recently heard:
A lady about 8 months pregnant got on a bus. She noticed the man opposite her was smiling at her. She immediately moved to another seat. This time the smile turned into a grin, so she moved again. The man seemed more amused. When on the fourth move, the man burst out laughing, she complained to the driver and he had the man arrested.
The case came up in court. The judge asked the man (about 20 years old) what he had to say for himself. The man replied, 'Well your Honor, it was like this: when the lady got on the bus, I couldn't help but notice her condition. She sat down under a sign that said, 'The Double Mint Twins are coming' and I grinned. Then she moved and sat under a sign that said, 'Logan's Liniment will reduce the swelling,' and I had to smile. Then she placed herself under a deodorant sign that said, 'William's Big Stick Did the Trick,' and I could hardly contain myself. But, Your Honor, when she moved the fourth time and sat under a sign that said, 'Goodyear Rubber could have prevented this Accident!' I just lost it.
Or perhaps this line of questioning:
Q: “Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?”
A: “All my autopsies are performed on dead people.”
Q: “Do you recall the time that you examined the body?”
A: “The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.”
Q: “And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?”
A: “No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.”
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