Tales from the jury box

Now that the trial is over, I can talk about it. Admonition has been lifted. Good, I have so many things to say!

In the middle of January, I received it. It stared at me while I sorted through my mail. There IT was...a JURY SUMMONS. Well, shit. I just served on a jury 2.5 years before. Was my name seriously drawn again? I put a note on my white board and pinned the summons (summons...that word makes me shudder) to my cork board. And there it sat.

I didn't know if I would have to report until 4 PM the night prior. I sat at work, anxiously watching the clock approach 4. I dialed. Hoping I wouldn't get picked, I listened to the recording. The second group she listed was mine. 1502. Yep. Well, great. Looks like I was headed to downtown Phoenix in the morning.

Day 1: the selection
I hate driving downtown. It's perpetually under construction, there's a lot of traffic and one way streets. Google maps sent me in the wrong direction. I looked at the clock. Holy Hell, I'm going to be late. I drive around and try to find the parking garage. Dammit. I'm so late! I had to be there at 8:30 and it was already 9. So, I gave up and parked in a metered spot. $1.50 for 2 hours. I walked to the court house in my heels. Clickity clak, I hauled ass down the street. Great, long line at the security scanners. I walk through. Beep. Sorry, turn around, spread your legs, lift your pant legs. Ok, you're good to go. Run to the the jury room. I hand the lady my summons and tell her I parked in a metered spot and I didn't know where the parking garage was. She laughed...it happens a lot apparently. She gave me a map and told me where to go. I ran back to my car and relocate it. I wait for the shuttle to the court house. It pulls up. The little old man promptly introduces himself as Walt, and asks "what says you, beautiful?" To the court house! I'm so late! He takes me there and says goodbye in a Donald Duck voice. I like this guy.

And again, through security. Beep. Sorry, turn around, spread your legs, lift your pant legs. Ok, you're good to go. Run to the the jury room. Get my juror form and fill it out...and wait. And wait. Drink the NASTY hot tea they had. Finally, the bailiff arrives and starts calling out names. Then, I hear mine. Fuck. I honestly dropped the F-bomb out loud. #33. Awesome. Finally, we are directed to the elevators like cattle and were instructed to go to floor 11. It took 20 minutes alone to get on an elevator. Arrive on the floor. No seats available, so I sit on the cold, hard floor. Wait some more. Finally, the bailiff arrives and gives us instructions. We file into the court room. What a crowd. Fat, skinny, white, black, yellow, hairy, beautiful, ugly, smelly, young, old. The judge mentions the details of the case. Some people have issues and some won't/can't serve. The case is about a man that had sexually molested sisters when they were 14 years old (5 years apart). The charges are read, and they are graphic. The jurors answer questions and are weeded out. Lunch break! Time to go pay $9 for a crappy salad in the cafeteria. Go back to floor 11. Wait some more.

The herd had been thinned by about 20 people. More questions. More answers. Afternoon break. Wait, and wait some more. Finally, around 4, we get called in again. Good thing I told my boss I'd be out all day. They have chosen their 14 people. They start calling numbers. Listening, listening....trying not to hack. At this time, I had an awful barking cough. And there it was. NUMBER 33?? You're juror #9. Why do they keep picking me! The jury had been selected. The odd thing was that it was a sexual abuse case, and the jury was 13 women, 1 man. The defendant was black, yet the jury was primarily white. I'm still not sure why they chose who they did. Both sides get a say. Ok, off for Friday and the weekend. I report on Monday. Valentine's day...how appropriate.

Day 2: the trial begins
It was sort of nice to sleep in a bit. I didn't have to be to court until 10:45. Sweet! I took my leisurely time getting myself and the kid ready. We even watched some cartoons together! Then, I take her to her dad's place. Time to jump into traffic and get lost in downtown Phoenix. I found the parking garage, got on the shuttle with a few jury members I remembered, and headed to court.

Ah, yes, security time. Walk through. Beep! Raise your arms, spread your legs, lift up your pant legs. Ok, you're good. WAIT! Is this your lunch bag? Yes, why? Is that Tupperware glass? Yes? Oh, no glass allowed. You need to run to the cafeteria and get a plastic container and then give us the glass. Seriously?? So, I run to the cafeteria and ask for a plastic container. He takes his time. I steal 3 packs of butter. That's right! I did make banana bread for the jury, so I think I'm entitled to 3 packs of butter. I get the container, transfer my salad, and run back to security. Same deal. Beep! Ok, you're good. I hop on the elevator with some interesting people up to the 11th floor. 13 our of 14 are there...we call the bailiff to let us into the juror room. We file into what is our home for the next few days.

Finally, the trial begins. The girls (victims) are the first to take the stand. They are beautiful. They start to testify. Homeless for most of their lives. Their oldest sister finally moved out on her own, pregnant, and met the defendant. They both break down and say he sexually molested them at age 14. They cry. I almost cried, but I am supposed to be unbiased. I listen. I put my head down. I let them cry. I can only imagine what's going on in their heads and hearts. It's hard to keep a straight face. But a juror is supposed to be emotionless. We go to lunch. I get offered a job on a sticky note. That was pretty funny, and very legitimate. We go back to finish the testimonies. Day two is over.

Day 3: the plot thickens
I get to sleep in again. Ahh, nice. I am liking this. I drop the kid off at daycare and get on my way. I'm a pro now! I don't get lost or anything. Park my car, get on the shuttle with Walt, head to the court house. I don't set the metal detector off, and I didn't bring my lunch this time. The guy behind me is trying to smuggle in 2 mini bottles of Jack Daniels. Really? Wow! Up to floor 11. We're all there, we go into our room. They are on time today. We are led into our box. Today, we hear the police officers and detectives, and a "blind" expert witness. It's a lot of information to take in. We break for lunch. A few of us go to a new sandwich shop. We order and enjoy the beautiful weather outside. We watch and listen to the protesters. A pigeon scares the ever loving crap out of me. Gotta love downtown! Time to go back. We continue to listen to testimonies. I'm drained and the lights are sucking the life out of me. The judge and deputy almost nod off. We finally get through the state's side. The day is over. I go pick up the kiddo and hug her endlessly.

Day 4: hearing the defendant's story
He's been sitting in the court room this entire time. Nicely dressed, nodding his head "no" through all of the testimonies. He's glad he gets to tell his "story" now. He takes the stand. His lawyer asks him questions, and he answers. I know it was a horrible case, but when he said "titties" on the stand...I almost laughed out loud. Who says that in a court room? He keeps answering questions, giving way too much detail. His lawyer is mad at him. He's digging himself deeper. He gets angry. He gets emotional. "They kill people that hurt children in prison, I'm scared for my life." But, he maintains his story. He only touched their breasts. He did not get them high. He did not "rape" them. They are lying. He only touched their breasts. We break for lunch. I try to lighten the mood. The prosecutor is cross-eyed. How can I not comment about that? I really didn't know who he was looking at. And he certainly gave new meaning to "cross-examination." Ha! I have them rolling. Sometimes, you have to laugh. We go back for the conclusion.

We listen to the closing arguments. Both sides really make valid points. The prosecutor doesn't get the girls' names right. I cringe. It seems he's just trying to get his payday. The defense argues and pokes a few holes in the prosecutor's statement. We are sent back to our room to wait. We are finally called back in. Time to pick the alternate jurors. There are 14 of us; they only need 12. I start to get flushed, and I gather my things. I already knew. They pick numbers out of a hat. Jurors 6 and 9. Yep, that's me. Juror #9. Somehow, I was relieved and disappointed at the same time. I put all of that time in and listened to this case. I took time from my job. I paid for over-priced food. I was invested. But, by the random hand of fate, I was excused. I didn't get to share my opinions. What a crap shoot. But, at the same time, I was relieved to not be responsible for this man's fate. What if I made the wrong choice?

The bailiff said she would call to let me know the verdict. I couldn't wait. I looked up his case details online. Curiosity kills! The verdict was posted. He had been found guilty of sexual misconduct/abuse with a minor. The only charges he was not convicted of were giving drugs to a minor, and kidnapping. I do agree with that. He was sentenced for 14/17 charges against him. I have to admit I felt a little bad, as he does have children of his own...but then again, who says this couldn't happen to his own children? I do not know how much time he was sentenced to yet.

I am very honored to live in a country that actually has a justice system. It may not always be as accurate as we'd like, but for the most part, people get punished for their crimes. I feel better that there's one less creep off the street. I know this trial will forever divide his family. It is very difficult to remain unbiased during a case. I'm human. I cry. I feel sympathy. I feel anger. Even though I wasn't a part of his final sentencing, I know my fellow jurors did the right thing. Being on a jury truly is a bonding experience. You are tasked with deciding some one's future. That's a heavy burden. What if you make the wrong decision?

Now that it is over, I am glad to have been a part of it. I have served my civil duty. Twice! I hope I'm not summoned again!