Juror #1

Boys and girls, this juror managed to make it a whole five minutes on a jury without getting kicked off.

To be honest, I was surprised I lasted that long.

For one thing, your average seasoned lawyer probably doesn't think much of a 24-year-old single white female who lists "unemployed" and "homeschooled" in the places where your employment and highest degrees are supposed to be placed. Add to that a certain lack of makeup, hair that other people apparently think I never cut (not true: I cut at least six inches a year), and a fairly conservative style of dressing (hey, the directions said not to show up in tank top or jeans, so I didn't) and here I am: the classic girl-you-don't-want-on-your-jury. I might be one of those crazy conservative right-wing religious wackos who have a little too much definition in matters of "right" and "wrong".

I'd like to think if you were really innocent you'd want me on and if you were guilty you'd kick me off; but that might be one of the cowboy things - you know, always wanting to be clearly the good guy (gal?) in the white hat everyone on the side of righteousness and justice cheers to see while the villians scowl and wish you somewhere near the North Pole ("mu-wahahahahaha!").

Part of the problem I'm sure was a bad feeling between me and the defendant; totally by accident, probably unavoidable. I'd been sitting around all morning - well, not all morning since I showed up for duty at the circuit court and got sent to probate court halfway through - and my first sight in the jury room was not the judge or the lawyers or even any of the other jurors, but a thirty-fivish man sitting at one of the tables and staring at everyone as we came in. He and I made eye contact and I don't think either of us liked it much. I've just finished reading This Present Darkness again and he reminded me a character you might picture having one of those gargoyle-like spirits standing at his shoulder. And who knows - I might've been walking in with an angel beside me for all I can tell.

Or maybe that's all very dramatic and me getting a bad feeling might've just been nervousness on my part since I'm not used to being stared at and get a little antsy when someone does it.

Be that as it may, I was the first juror called to come sit in the juror box for the initial interviews. There was a pretty even distribution of men and women in the jury pool, including an equally even mix of ages; but somehow everyone who got called into that first group with me was a woman. It was while I was sitting in the juror's box that the lawyers introduced themselves and it became clear the guy with the stare was the defendant. The case - which I expected to be some dispute about someone's estate, since I thought that's all probate courts dealt with - turned out to be a situation where a man had been installed in a mental institution where his doctors (and maybe his parents) thought he should stay...only the man himself didn't think that was too good an idea. His doctor was bringing suit with the help of another specialist to force him to stay at the hospital and accept treatment.

This was going to be a tough case, I thought. I personally was already a little uneasy about Mr. Gargoyle Man, since my first thought on seeing him was "his spirit bothers me" and then I found out he's one of those guys the hospital (in it's usual high-handed way) wants to override and control because he doesn't agree with them. I suppose I was biased against both sides, which ought to mean I could look impartially at the case, right?

This is why I was able to truthfully answer I had nothing in my background I thought would prevent me from looking fairly at the case in question. Things were a little sticky in my own head when the prosecuting attorney asked if anyone had ever had a bad experience with a prosecutor or judge that might bias them against the court. After going to Mr. N's retrial, there are a lot of things I know to make me wary of lawyers and judges with private agendas who like to play fast and loose with the law. However, she went on to qualify with, "Anything that's happened to you personally, like a decision against you in a lawsuit or a divorce you didn't feel was handled fairly." That made it easy: I've never been in court for myself or a family member, so I could truthfully say nothing's ever happened to me personally to bias me against the court; and anyway, I was in a different court with a different judge than the one in which I'd had the bad experience anyway and I had no reason to either distrust or dislike the lawyer or the judge.

Who were both women, by the way. If I were the man, I'd be a little unhappy at hoping for a jury of my peers when everyone else in the situation was a woman.

After the prosecuting attorney asked her questions and was satisfied, the defense lawyer got up. He was in his late sixties or early seventies and had a hearing aid that was still having difficulty with the noise in the room (which wasn't much but seemed to make things hard to hear). He had one question for me personally: "Uh...Ms. Jones, you say here in your questionnaire that you're unemployed." He looked at me a bit doubtfully. "Is that an...um...normal situation or are you just affected by the current economic downturn?"

I think he wanted to know if I normally had a job but had been fired.

I thought of all the things I normally do that really should qualify as plenty of employment: I could've listed my position as purchasing agent or management assistant or something high and lofty sounding, but none of it really seemed to work with what they were actually asking, a question that included something about the name and number of my employer and some other information I would've had to fudge to really show me as being employed. Plus, I didn't want to show up as having lied in some way if anyone bothered to check 1099 forms and find out I've never drawn a paycheck.

I said, "Yes sir, that's my normal situation."

"You're unemployed."

"Yes sir."

"All right, then." He still looked pretty doubtful, but he went on to talk to a lady from Richdale who'd had a great-nephew twice removed (or some such relationship) put in a special school because he was considered "bipolar" and "acted out" in school.

Gargoyle Man scribbled frantic-looking notes on me and every other juror questioned. He'd come to this court date dressed in a denim shirt complete with holes in the breast pocket, the sleeves rolled up past the elbow. He had an odd sort of intensity, like he had to magnify everything he did or maybe even like he was acting some sort of part.

I don't suppose I would've had much difficulty believing he was insane. He didn't act right; and I hope that isn't just information about his background influencing me, because I've always had the impression this whole business of passing judgement on people's mental states seems a bit flawed. People are foolish, unreasonable, dramatic, and rebellious; but that doesn't make them necessarily insane in a clinical way. People choose to give up their logic, the Bible says, and become of "unsound mind" when they choose to try to reason things out their way instead of God's way. But does that make them an insane person who should be locked up against their will? I doubt it.

"Who will you be calling as witnesses?" the judge asked the two lawyers. The prosecutor stood up, said,

"Kim Richards, Dr. Jacob Hollin, specialist at the Sunnyvale Hospital, and Mr. and Mrs. Bostwick [same last name as the defendant - the man's parents]."

The defense attorney got up, cleared his throat, and said, "My client will be testifying on his own behalf."

Hm. That didn't sound so good too me. I always kind of had the impression you could find a specialist to back up your position if you looked hard enough; and then it just becomes a matter of deciding which one has better experience and so on. Mr. Gargoyle Man hadn't found any specialists and he hadn't even gotten someone to stand up as character reference. I wonder if this is the fault of the lawyer or the defendant. The lawyer didn't seem too happy about the situation, but he was one of those people who's dog (on the principle that dogs somehow tend to reflect their owners) would've been a basset hound and it could just be his expression tended to be a little mournful.

At this point, though, I was getting a bit excited. I'd made it through way more than anyone else in my family had ever managed and was actually sitting in the jury box and had only rated one little question from the defense attorney. No one was questioning my rightness to be there. I might actually get the chance, I thought, to be an honest person in the jury box.

And then it happened.

"Any jurors to be dismissed for cause?" the judge asked. The two attorneys shook their heads.

"No, your honor."

"Peremptory challenges?"

"No, your honor," the prosecutor said. The defense attorney stood up.

"No, your--"

Gargoyle Man shoved a note at him and pointed at it, frowning. The lawyer paused. "Just a minute, let me try to read...your honor, we'd like to challenge juror number four."

The lady from Richdale stood up and picked up her bag. I felt relieved.

"Oh wait! My mistake," the defense attorney said, looking a bit flustered. "I'm sorry - I couldn't read the writing...it's juror number one we'd like to challenge."

I got up. Gargoyle Man smirked. I thought, "well, that was no surprise."

Mom came to pick me up. It wasn't quite lunchtime yet. She said, "Well?"

"The defendant kicked me out," I said.

"He's guilty," Mom said. I grinned. Moms are loyal people.

"Well, he's not really accused of anything. But I think he might have a bad spirit. He made me pretty uncomfortable being in the same room with him."

"Hm," Mom said. "Well, maybe he did. And if he did, your spirit would make him just as uncomfortable."

And that, boys and girls, is really the only reason I can think of why I didn't make the jury.