My civic duty

[kate_schaefer]

Last week, we voted. The week before that, I had jury duty.

I love jury duty.

I don't love getting up early to drive through unfamiliar and unpleasant traffic, sit in a roomful of strangers, answer eccentric questions about peculiarities of my personal history, or decide someone's fate. I don't love any of the particulars of jury duty; like many of the things about which I'm enthusiastic in principle, actually fulfilling jury duty is inconvenient and dull. What I love is the concept --- an impartial group of citizens representing the people chosen at random to decide whether someone has broken the law. Direct participation in democracy! Since I love the concept and since I'm a self-righteous prig about concepts I love, I love jury duty.

The impartial citizens aren't chosen completely at random in this county; we're selected from the rolls of registered voters. That seems like a reasonable criterion to me; registration to vote demonstrates enough engagement in the civic process to eliminate most of those I wouldn't want to have on a jury. It's relatively easy to be excused from jury duty when one receives a notice, as well; one can reschedule a year out for any reason whatsoever, or one can ask to be excused for hardship. People who aren't interested enough in justice to serve on juries can usually come up with a way of getting out of it, and good riddance to them.

I've been on jury duty twice before and seated on a jury once. Both times, the majority of my time was spent sitting around reading. This time, I arrived in Kent, checked in, filled out the juror's form, listened to the judge whose turn it was to give the juror pep talk (he did a good job; no doubt he's delivered the speech approximately four zillion times, but he managed to sound cheerful and enthusiastic nevertheless).

Once he left, I settled in to read my book and was immediately called to go to a courtroom for voir dire. For the rest of the day, I was Juror #42 of 55.

First the judge explained that this would be a long trial. Oh, damn, I thought, there goes everything I wanted to do in November. Then he explained that by "long" he meant "two to four days." By that standard, I suppose a short-to-medium length trial is one to two days, and anything over four days is really, really long. He excused all the self-employed people and the person who takes care of her elderly father, checked for medical problems and anybody who knew the defendant, the prosecutor, the defense attorney, or several witnesses socially, then set the attorneys loose to whittle down those who remained.

Based on the questions they asked, I know that the county intended to present evidence that the defendant had led police on an erratic car chase, failing to stop for lights, sirens, and loudspeaker, and that he had a gun in his car when he was finally stopped, which was against the law because he's a convicted felon. I gathered that the defense intended to argue that the prosecution's evidence wasn't compelling, or that the cops had a grudge against the defendant, or that it was somebody else's gun, or that the road was all twisty and the defendant couldn't see the cop.

Much of voir dire felt like a cooperative exercise, with judge, prosecutor, and defense attorney all trying to educate the jurors as much as possible while eliciting information about the jurors' opinions and experiences to make sure that they'd end up with an unbiased jury, or at least a jury without obvious biases.

The attorneys made notes. "Is there anyone here who thinks people should be allowed to carry guns into a bar?" asked the prosecutor. I put up my hand, with a scattering of company: second amendment, NRA, if the person has a gun permit, it's valid wherever the person goes, and me: "I don't think people should carry guns into bars -- I think it shows poor judgment -- but I think it should be legal. I think a lot of things should be legal that people still shouldn't do."

"Is there anyone here who thinks convicted felons should be allowed to own guns?" asked the prosecutor. Two hands went up, one of them mine. The prosecutor asked the other person why he thought that. "I'm a convicted felon myself," he said. There was a titter of nervous laughter. "That was twenty years ago, and I think I learned my lesson then."

The prosecutor turned to me. "It's a civil right, and I think it should be restored with other civil rights when the felon applies to have those restored," I said. I didn't feel terrific about hanging out alone with the ex-con, but when that's where principle takes me, I'm going there. I told you I was a prig.

The prosecutor told a little fable about children and their babysitter and a broken lamp, then asked questions based on the fable. What I wanted to say was that the parent in his example was a twit, but that wasn't relevant to the jury process, so I didn't.

The defense attorney's turn came after the afternoon break. He expanded on the prosecutor's fable and got all tangled up in the characters. I could have used a chart to keep track of the mom, the boy, the sister, the babysitter, the next door neighbor boy, the next door neighbor girl, and just who it was that had a crush on whom, and so could the defense attorney. I think the point of his narration was to demonstrate that apparently straightforward narratives can be complicated by the tangled web of emotional relationships among people who know each other.

His last question was addressed to me. "Forty-two, you've said a number of interesting things today." It is a mistake to be thought interesting by an attorney. "Why do you think people should be allowed to carry guns into bars?"

"There are a lot of things that I don't think people should do that should nevertheless be legal," I said. I say "nevertheless" in conversation; I bet you do, too.

"And why is that?" asked the defense attorney.

I hadn't had my philosophical underpinnings questioned in public in years, though while I was in college it was a daily event. "I believe that there are many elements of personal conduct that are matters of people's private relations with each other and not appropriate areas for the state to regulate," I said, or words pretty close to that. There was a little murmur of approval from my fellow jurors, even though they mostly thought no one should be allowed to take a gun into a bar.

"And why is that?" asked the defense attorney.

Whadya mean, why is that? I thought. As I started to say something less stupid but much longer and completely inappropriate for the setting about the foundations of society, the rights of the individual, and the origins of the rule of law, the judge's timer went off and he told the defense attorney that he was out of time.

"Because I'm an American," I muttered, and got another murmur of approval from the assembled jurors. Bad behavior on my part, really, but satisfying. Satisfying, nevertheless.

The judge moved a couple people out of the front row of waiting jurors into the jury box, and the attorneys began dismissing jurors in earnest. Already gone were the two activists for MADD, the NRA member, the people with close friends or family members killed by drunk drivers (but no one had mentioned anything about alcohol in the preamble about evidence they intended to present later; were there assumptions about drinking and driving inherent in the erratic driving, had the defendant refused a breathalyzer test, or was there just so much other stuff going on that it might be a factor but wasn't part of the charges?), the pacifists, the other people with extreme objections to private ownership of guns, folks with close friends or relations who were cops, the guy who lived near the area of the car chase, and the woman who said she couldn't be fair. Now the attorneys didn't have to say why they were dismissing anyone, and they each dumped seven. I hadn't kept track of what most of the proto-jurors had said, but I did see that the prosecuting attorney dismissed the reformed felon as soon as he was up, the defense attorney dismissed the people with more distant friends hurt by drunk drivers, and one of them dismissed the people for whom English wasn't their first language

The last seated juror was number 40. I'd had lunch with her, and I knew she really wanted to be on a jury, because she felt it was her duty. She'd been called for jury duty before, but never selected.

I was relieved when we left the room and were told we didn't have to come back the next day. I was definitely with the judge when he said that serving on a jury was always a hardship for everyone, so only those for whom being on the jury constituted an extraordinary hardship could be excused for that. It wouldn't be an extraordinary hardship for me, just an inconvenience, so I was prepared to serve, if chosen.

It's mildly unsettling to walk away from a story that I know this much about. Since I'm not a juror, I can speculate wildly about what actually happened. Did the defendant carry the gun into a bar, drink a lot, brandish the gun wildly, fire a few shots into the mirror over the bartender's head, and flee, driving his eighteen-wheeler erratically down the highway, hooping and hollering and carrying on with the wild woman at his side, who turned out to be the arresting officer's juvenile delinquent little sister?

Could be. Might be.

Probably not.

Comments

[slave-driver.livejournal.com]

Interesting story. I enjoyed reading it. I've been a registered voter all my adult life but I've never been called for jury duty. I wouldn't mind having to do it if they called me.

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I think "wouldn't mind having to do it" is a pretty balanced assessment of how best to approach jury duty.

There are lots of particular criminal cases where I'd have to put aside my personal experience in order to be a fair juror, and other cases where I don't have close personal experience and yet have definite opinions about the awfulness of the actions. It occurs to me that my skepticism about the complete truthfulness of law enforcement officers might balance my tendency to believe that the accused probably did something wrong. The accused probably did do something wrong -- most of us have done something wrong -- but conceivably might not have done the particular wrong thing for which he was arrested.

[whumpdotcom.livejournal.com]

You know, given the situation, I think "Because I'm an American" isn't a bad answer.

Thank you for sharing your experience.

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Well, it isn't a bad answer, but it isn't a complete answer. It's shorthand for something like: because I've been raised in a system of government in which one of philosophical underpinnings is the assumption that that government governs best which governs least. Then we cue the fife and drum and drop the down the bunting backdrop, and the rest of the jurors leap out of the box with taps on their shoes and spontaneously and synchronously dance as I sing, "I'm A Yankee Doodle Dandy," followed by twenty seconds of fireworks (banned in the courtroom), and then we all sit down again and go on with the trial.

Maybe instead we sing the verse of "America the Beautiful" that includes
"America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!"

but that wouldn't work as well with tap-dancing.

[redbird]

I think New York County (basically Manhattan, plus one smaller island and a little bit of the Bronx) currently uses voter and driver's license lists. They're trying hard not to call the same people too often, and need more than the average number of jurors because we've got busy federal courts here as well as the state courts. One postponement is free, and after that it's extraordinary hardship or being ineligible (the last time I was called for jury duty one person in the room raised his hand at "if you aren't a U.S. citizen, you can't be on a jury," which means he hadn't read the paperwork all the way through when he got it).

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

We didn't have any non-citizens.

We had some people for whom English wasn't the first language, including one with a higher number than mine who said he was really happy to have been called for jury duty because he had just become a citizen a few months before, and it made him feel like he really was a citizen now. He said he was uncertain that he'd be able to follow everything that was said because English wasn't his first language. The judge asked if he'd been able to follow everything up to that point, and the proto-juror said yes, though some parts had been difficult. The judge told him to ask when he had trouble understanding things, complimented him on his English, and asked what his first language was. French, the man said. I was surprised, because his accent hadn't sounded French to me. It sounded kinda German, or maybe Swiss or Belgian. Later I realized that it had been Quebecois, which I always mis-hear as Swiss or Belgian.

[dsgood.livejournal.com]

I recall that part of what seems to be the Bronx is actually part of Manhattan -- separated from the rest of Manhattan Island and unseparated from the Bronx by human intervention.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

Calif. went to DMV records (which means all state ID cards as well as drivers' licenses), about 20 years ago. With that I've still only been called twice.

And I am more than willing to serve. I think that, like voting, it's more than just a duty, but a moral obligation.

TK

Fate Works the Way It Always Does

[(Anonymous)]

In that the day I scheduled some necessary surgery for the middle of December (it's not serious, it has to happen, and I'd rather it happened in a year where I've already paid my insurance deductible), I also rec'd my first jury summons.

For the middle of December.

I'm now rescheduled for the first part of the year.

Re: Fate Works the Way It Always Does

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Oh, fate. It is like that.

[ckd]

I've been called twice but seated neither time. Massachusetts uses the one day or one trial system; if you're not seated that day, then you're exempt for three years. They're also quite good about schedule or location adjustments. (In my case, one summons was for the court in Lowell; I asked for a change to Cambridge on the grounds of not having a car, and got it.)

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

I've been voting for 33 years. The first 20, I never got called for jury duty at all, and I was beginning to think that I'd never be called. About ten years ago, I was called for county jury duty, and sat in the waiting room most of the time, spent a few hours in voir dire without being chosen, went home, and found a notice for city jury duty waiting for me.

I postponed the city duty for a year.

[holyoutlaw.livejournal.com]

I don't think you're a prig, far from it.

I think doing jury duty (which I've done once, and scabbed out on once) is much more important than voting.

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Thanks. Alas, I know my own faults (mostly): prig and pedant, yep. Odd prig, though.

[wild-irises.livejournal.com]

I'm fated never to be a juror: paralegal career, plus a long and checkered history which has left me with a lot of opinions. About two months ago, however, I was in a jury pool for the first time. The case was a rape with assault, and the questionnaire included:

Do you know anyone who's ever been raped? Well, duh.
Do you know any convicted sex offenders. Yes, one, and one degree of separation from another whose story I know well.
Have you ever been arrested? Yes.
Do you know anyone who has concerns about the police? Well, duh.
Do you work with the law. Yes.

Big joke. They questioned me for two minutes, and excused me. Either side would probably have excused me, but the prosecution did it first.

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Ithink it depends on the lawyers and on how deep the jury pool is that day. Some lawyers will excuse someone with your experience right away, as happened with me the first time I had jury duty, while others will go on and ask you if you can set aside your personal experience and weigh the evidence of the case before you fairly, as happened with me the second time I had jury duty, when I answered the same questions the same way and was seated on the jury.

Could you be fair even on a case with lots of prejudicial elements that pushed a lot of your own personal buttons? I know you; I believe you could, and I believe you'd think about the question and answer, yes, you could be fair. Jeez louise, it's one of your most important values.

I was wondering if I'd be excused because I know someone in prison, but that wasn't one of the questions they pursued in depth this time. I would certainly hesitate long and hard, and the government would have to prove its case beyond all reasonable doubt, before I'd vote to send anyone to prison.

[lintninja.livejournal.com]

The first year I registered to vote I was called 4 times. They always called during final exams and that sort of thing. Although I have gotten to the q and a stage many times I have never served. I was supposed to go and do my thing this week, but had a non-reschedulable doc appointmet. So it's next year for me too.

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Are you healthier now? This has been a chancy autumn for you so far.

[dsgood.livejournal.com]

I've only been called to jury duty once -- and I was out of the country at the time.

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Is that a situation with an automatic excuse? Common sense suggests that it must be.

[davidgoldfarb.livejournal.com]

I've been called for jury duty three or four times, but never actually had to go in to the court. Odd, that.

I say "nevertheless" in conversation; I bet you do, too.

Hee! Yep.

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Well, of course you do.

What we don't say in conversation: certes, indubitably, nucular.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

I wrote up my, only, experience with being in a pool last April.

By the time I was done with three days of voir dire I was intrigued, and it was scheduled to be a long trial (three weeks, or so). I was actually annoyed to be told the only reason I'd not been empaneled was a line error by the clerk (which explained the frantic shuffling of questionaires by the lawyers) because my name was the one she was supposed to call for the last juror.

I think I took about 15 pages of notes on the the whole thing.

TK

I love jury duty, myself

[hal-obrien.livejournal.com]

As I mentioned to Deb, I've been on two juries myself, and I loved it. Both times it meant going in to downtown LA, and I'm a city boy at heart (even if I do miss the 2800 acre ranch that was my school). It meant I got to watch lawyers up close and personal. It meant I could use all of my mind instead of the half or so my work does.

I've never figured out the aversion to jury duty in this country, given our obsession with the legal system. How a country can support god knows how many iterations of CSI and Law and Order, and CourtTV, and all the various "Judge" shows... and then disappear from the room when one whispers the phrase "jury duty" is beyond me. My only two hypotheses are a) we really do hate things being mandatory in this country, and b) the usual low level, "you don't care about political matters, it's all dirty and grubby and you want to stay home," that dominates our press and entertainment extends to this.

Me, I think it's great. The first time I went to DC, I took a tour of the Supreme Court, and one of the things they showed us in the main chamber was the seats reserved for House and Senate members. I asked the guide, "So, if I can finagle getting elected to Congress, you mean I get season tickets to The Court in addition to the best library in the world? Cool!"

She was somewhat non-plussed.

[kalimac.livejournal.com]

Those are about the best perks for being in Congress that I can think of, too, though posts by rwl about embassy parties have convinced me that the food at these can be pretty good.

[kalimac.livejournal.com]

As pecunium said, California draws from the drivers license pool as well as the registered voter pool.

I once tried to explain to a lawyer during voir dire that I considered the three-strikes law immoral for the same reason that 18th-century death sentences for stealing a loaf of bread were immoral, but it didn't come out as a very clear, ringing speech.

Does that mean I'd vote against conviction in such a case even if the accused was guilty? Hell yes. Juror instruction will tell you that jury nullification is illegal, but that's a lie. I've been a law librarian, and I've read the texts that prove it.

Perhaps being a law librarian means I will never be empaneled, but I recently read an article by a famous law professor - I forget which one, possibly Cass Sunstein - who found himself empaneled.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

I don't know what to do if ever empaneled for a capital trial. Would I vote for death, never.

Do I think there are things for which killing someone is a valid punishment, yes. I just think the state can't do it fairly.

For Three strikes, I can vote to convict, if I think the actual crime warrants such a punishment. I might even be willing to convict for a crime which doesn't quite meet that standard, if the prosecution could show me a pattern of recidivism, and; as a result, a clear and present danger to the lives of others.

The odds of that burden being met (the state convincing me, beyond reasonable doubt, that this person is so grave a risk to the public that allowing them to be released is more dangerous than the inequity of punishment for the crime in question) is damned slim.

If we had a prison system which wasn't so barbaric as ours (say more in keeping with that of The Netherlands) I might be less inclined to nullify in those situations.

TK

[scarlettina.livejournal.com]

Thanks for posting this thorough and thoughtful account. I love jury duty, too. I mind the early hours, but like you, I make civic duty a priority and had the privilege of sitting on a jury once. They made me foreman, which was unnerving but I felt proud—I think it's mostly because I'm a big mouth.

Anyway, one of the many things I took away from the experience was that I was impressed by how ritualized a trial is and how that ritual focuses the mind. There are formal set-ups and steps that must be respected which ensure all aspects are considered. I found the actual jurying to be the messiest part of the process in contrast to the courtroom experience, though it, too, was satisfying. The case I was on, though, was pretty simple.

My point, though (and I do have one), is that I appreciated the winnowing process. Voir dire is fascinating and it makes you think about your core beliefs and where they came from. Although required here for a trial's purposes, it's an exercise always worth doing.

And "Because I'm an American" is a completely appropriate answer. :-)

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

Yes. That ritual focusing of the mind is a very good things.

I think jury duty is very good for the participants. The ritual of truth-seeking embodied in a trial is fabulous for everyone concerned, except those most closely concerned, for whom it is wretched beyond belief. Because that experience is so wretched for them, we'd better make damn sure the rest of us are focused on trying to get to truth and justice, not revenge.

And then we start thinking about Guantanamo again, and decide to do laundry instead.

[bedii.livejournal.com]

I admit to wondering about the last case I was almost selected for. They warned us that it would be long, lasting several weeks or longer, and that the crime the defendant was charged with was unpleasant. They weren't kidding about the crime: it was vile. I remember thinking how unfortunate the defendant's haircut was (think Beaky Buzzard in the Warner Bros. cartoons, or Moe Howard on a really bad day) and how much more difficult it would make the job for the defense. I never saw anything about it in the paper, however, so I have no idea how it ended up.

[farmgirl1146.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed reading your story about jury duty. I had a burst of pride at your statement "Because I'm an American" and I am sorry that you saw it as "bad behavior." I think that one of our rights as Americans is the right of bad behavior. By the same token, one of our responsibilities as Americans is being responsible and not endangering others.

I like your musings on the "story" of the trial. Could be.

[kate-schaefer.livejournal.com]

I consider muttering, "Because I'm an American," bad behavior because it has only emotional content rather than intellectual content. It was also bad behavior because the judge had said that the defense attorney was out of time, which meant that he wasn't entitled to any more information about the jury pool.

But thanks.