Justice For All
I took my jury duty assignment seriously. Well, as seriously as most. I postponed it twice, and feeling the threat of imprisonment cleared my schedule for my call in for yesterday. My number was called.
Feeling like cattle I herded with hundreds of others in a room where the coffee machine served hot water only. Feeling burned by the loss of 75 cents, I waited for my name to be called...and waited...and waited...and waited.
I talked to a couple of total strangers, saw a couple of old friends in the room, and was even thrilled that one of the Buffalo Bills was waiting on his name being called. At least they had to go through the same sort of crap.
I answered a few work calls, but the main thing on my mind was a father-son basketball game with my boy at the end of the day. Sore back and all, it was all I really wanted to accomplish. I'd promised him I would dominate him and his buddies.
Finally, just after ten I was summoned to a courtroom. There were about sixty of us headed to a room where ultimately 14 would be asked to serve.
The judge began by giving us a civics lesson. I nearly raised my hand to tell him I watched Judge Judy nearly every night and that I was familiar with it all. Yet I sat back and listened, to one lame-ass excuse after another as to why someone wouldn't be able to serve.
"I'm too wishy-washy," one woman said. "I really don't have a mind of my own. I would go along with the crowd."
"I think I know the victim," another lady said. When she was quizzed about her neighborhood it turned out she was about 120 miles away from where the alleged crime took place.
And everyone and her brother knew a cop, or hated a cop, or loved a cop, or thought of being a cop.
By the time lunch had ended (a great assorted sub) we were no closer than when we'd started, but the number of people in the room had dwindled to about thirty. I still hadn't been called.
My back stiffened as I waited and I stretched out on the empty chair in front of me. A freaking cop told me I couldn't have my legs on a chair. One after another the people were questioned and excused, and it occurred to me that most of those gathered were unbelievably uninteresting. Some of them couldn't read the questionnaire, others listed woodworking, or snowboarding as their main interests.
Not for me to judge, but the one guy who was about to be judged also caught my attention. I wondered if he understood the consequences of his actions and how his alleged stupidity had an effect on hundreds of people who just wanted to play basketball with their sons, or get back to woodworking, or snowboarding.
By 4 PM, we were down to ten people in the pen and just 7 jurors seated for the trial. I called home and listened to Sam who wanted to tell me he'd score over me.
"I'm trying to get there," I said.
Finally, at 4:20 I was called to the pit - the chairs were a lot more comfortable. I buzzed through the questionnaire but was drilled about the books. The judge asked the lawyers what they thought of the three of us that were left. One of the lawyers requested they step into another room.
"They didn't like one of us," I said.
They returned as I checked my watch. If I had to come back tomorrow that was fine, but I needed to lace up my sneakers.
"You're all dismissed," the judge said. "We'll try and fill the jury again tomorrow."
So, off I went, feeling as if it had all been a colossal waste of time. I felt a little rejected too - I could have found that guy guilty.
Yet twenty minutes later, I limped toward the basket with my son guarding me. I took a short jumper that swished through the net - "It's going to be like rain on your head," I told him.
Moments later, I grabbed a rebound under our basket and pretending to make an outlet pass, I tossed it straight to Sam who banked it home and immediately got in my face.
"Did you hear the sound of the net?" he asked. "Whap!"
And finally, after a long day, it was justice for all.
Feeling like cattle I herded with hundreds of others in a room where the coffee machine served hot water only. Feeling burned by the loss of 75 cents, I waited for my name to be called...and waited...and waited...and waited.
I talked to a couple of total strangers, saw a couple of old friends in the room, and was even thrilled that one of the Buffalo Bills was waiting on his name being called. At least they had to go through the same sort of crap.
I answered a few work calls, but the main thing on my mind was a father-son basketball game with my boy at the end of the day. Sore back and all, it was all I really wanted to accomplish. I'd promised him I would dominate him and his buddies.
Finally, just after ten I was summoned to a courtroom. There were about sixty of us headed to a room where ultimately 14 would be asked to serve.
The judge began by giving us a civics lesson. I nearly raised my hand to tell him I watched Judge Judy nearly every night and that I was familiar with it all. Yet I sat back and listened, to one lame-ass excuse after another as to why someone wouldn't be able to serve.
"I'm too wishy-washy," one woman said. "I really don't have a mind of my own. I would go along with the crowd."
"I think I know the victim," another lady said. When she was quizzed about her neighborhood it turned out she was about 120 miles away from where the alleged crime took place.
And everyone and her brother knew a cop, or hated a cop, or loved a cop, or thought of being a cop.
By the time lunch had ended (a great assorted sub) we were no closer than when we'd started, but the number of people in the room had dwindled to about thirty. I still hadn't been called.
My back stiffened as I waited and I stretched out on the empty chair in front of me. A freaking cop told me I couldn't have my legs on a chair. One after another the people were questioned and excused, and it occurred to me that most of those gathered were unbelievably uninteresting. Some of them couldn't read the questionnaire, others listed woodworking, or snowboarding as their main interests.
Not for me to judge, but the one guy who was about to be judged also caught my attention. I wondered if he understood the consequences of his actions and how his alleged stupidity had an effect on hundreds of people who just wanted to play basketball with their sons, or get back to woodworking, or snowboarding.
By 4 PM, we were down to ten people in the pen and just 7 jurors seated for the trial. I called home and listened to Sam who wanted to tell me he'd score over me.
"I'm trying to get there," I said.
Finally, at 4:20 I was called to the pit - the chairs were a lot more comfortable. I buzzed through the questionnaire but was drilled about the books. The judge asked the lawyers what they thought of the three of us that were left. One of the lawyers requested they step into another room.
"They didn't like one of us," I said.
They returned as I checked my watch. If I had to come back tomorrow that was fine, but I needed to lace up my sneakers.
"You're all dismissed," the judge said. "We'll try and fill the jury again tomorrow."
So, off I went, feeling as if it had all been a colossal waste of time. I felt a little rejected too - I could have found that guy guilty.
Yet twenty minutes later, I limped toward the basket with my son guarding me. I took a short jumper that swished through the net - "It's going to be like rain on your head," I told him.
Moments later, I grabbed a rebound under our basket and pretending to make an outlet pass, I tossed it straight to Sam who banked it home and immediately got in my face.
"Did you hear the sound of the net?" he asked. "Whap!"
And finally, after a long day, it was justice for all.
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