About two months ago, I received that dreaded form in the mail that said I had to report in for jury duty in my county. Normally, this wouldn't have phased me, as I've been a panel member on the student council for cheating and plagiarism at my college, and I'm a pretty firm believer in participating in our justice system (especially having been to other countries where justice isn't really a right). I was slightly concerned this time, however, because my jury duty day was set to start literally four days before I was due to get on a plane for spring break.
Despite the timing though, I was pretty happy about the idea. It seemed like I was the only one who was, however, because with only one or two exceptions, every single person I told about it offered their sympathy at having to go in and contribute to what I feel is a reasonably fair justice system. After a while, I just stopped trying to explain that it didn't bother me, because people weren't listening. Only one other person- ironically, the only other person who had actually served jury duty- offered congratulations and reassurance that they'd work with me to make sure I didn't miss my plane.
Somewhat reassured, I woke up early on the day of my summons, drove out to where the county courthouse was (illogically located in the extreme northeast corner of the county) and found my way into the jury room. Unexpectedly, it was absolutely massive, and there were easily 200+ people there. I checked in, sat down, and started reading the book I'd brought along. After a while, they started a video that was a general "Hi, thanks for coming, we know it's an inconvenience, but it really is a good system, promise!" and overview of what to expect. After another quarter hour or so, someone came out and announced that they'd start reading off names by case, so listen up.
The first case had about 75 jurors called. They expected it to be a huge one, with lots of people being dismissed, and I was very relieved when my name did not get called for it. (We later discovered that, by the end of the second day, they still had not finished jury selection. Ouch!) They called out about 25 names for the second case, and when my name once again wasn't called, my hopes started to rise. Maybe I wouldn't be called, and I'd be able to go home right away! No luck though, my name came up on the third case, and, just to rub it in, about three names after mine, they stopped and announced that the second case had been cancelled, and all those jurors could go home. Sigh!
It took a little bit longer for things to get sorted out, but by 10:00, the 25 jurors for the third case- myself included- were sitting up in a courtroom, waiting to go through the selection process. In case you don't know what that feels like, here's a basic overview: 13 people are called to sit in the jury box, and 8 more in a third row along the front. Both sides' lawyers interview the group as a whole and individuals to gauge their reactions to certain issues or ideas, each side getting 20 minutes to talk and get answers. At the end of that time, each side is allowed a certain number of dismissals, based on the type and severity of the case. If someone from the jury box is dismissed, the next person from the front row moves up to their spot, and Another juror is called to sit in the front row. Somewhat like the tea party in Disney's Alice in Wonderland, when they sing "new cup, new cup, move down, move down" and all move to a new position.
When either both sides are comfortable with the jurors in the jury box, or both have used up their dismissals, the 13 people in the box are the official jurors, and everyone else gets to either go home, or be assigned to a new case, if it's a busy day. Frustratingly (because as much as I can appreciate our system, I still would have liked to have gone home early), I was the very last person promoted into the jury box, and had to stick it out. Even more annoying was the fact that at least two of the jurors were very clearly giving provocative answers in an effort to get dismissed, and succeeded. Oh well.
By that time, it was lunch, so we had a recess (after being warned not to talk to the lawyers or their clients), and came back to get down to business. It was more than a little boring, mostly because the judge was required by law to read every single word of the instructions to us, and verify with each of us that we understood. Most of the instructions were "common sense," (snarky quotes intended), such as don't judge either side based on their personality, or whether you liked them, or their fashion sense- which is good, because the prosecuting lawyer had the worst-fitting pants I have ever seen- or a reminder of the "innocent until proven guilty" concept.
One thing that I paid attention to, however, was that they defined what "reasonable doubt" means. In case you don't know, criminal cases require proof 'beyond a reasonable doubt' that the crime was committed. Civil cases, such as those involving child support, only have to show a 'preponderance of evidence,' that is, it is more likely to me true than not. For criminal cases, however, the proof beyond a reasonable doubt concept is, as quoted shamelessly from wikipedia, "proof of such a convincing character that you would be willing to rely and act upon it without hesitation in the most important of your own affairs." In other words, if you would take this proof and act upon it in day-to-day life, then there is no reasonable doubt.
Due to tv shows and sensationalism of trials, however, a lot of people have it in their heads that what is required is proof "beyond the shadow of a doubt." If you stop and think for a moment, however, you'll see that that is a nearly impossible standard to aim for. Consider that video can be edited, pictures can be photoshopped, audio can be manipulated, memory begins to degrade immediately, and, well, people lie. If you want to take it to extremes and get absurdly philosophical, the only thing that one can be sure of "beyond the shadow of a doubt" is that one exists. Everything else has lots of wiggle room.
Jury duty, so far, had consisted of sitting in a room, being called, sitting in another room, being interviewed, being selected, and having a lot (dear lord a lot) of laws read at me. Then, at about 1:30pm, the real fun began...
Despite the timing though, I was pretty happy about the idea. It seemed like I was the only one who was, however, because with only one or two exceptions, every single person I told about it offered their sympathy at having to go in and contribute to what I feel is a reasonably fair justice system. After a while, I just stopped trying to explain that it didn't bother me, because people weren't listening. Only one other person- ironically, the only other person who had actually served jury duty- offered congratulations and reassurance that they'd work with me to make sure I didn't miss my plane.
Somewhat reassured, I woke up early on the day of my summons, drove out to where the county courthouse was (illogically located in the extreme northeast corner of the county) and found my way into the jury room. Unexpectedly, it was absolutely massive, and there were easily 200+ people there. I checked in, sat down, and started reading the book I'd brought along. After a while, they started a video that was a general "Hi, thanks for coming, we know it's an inconvenience, but it really is a good system, promise!" and overview of what to expect. After another quarter hour or so, someone came out and announced that they'd start reading off names by case, so listen up.
The first case had about 75 jurors called. They expected it to be a huge one, with lots of people being dismissed, and I was very relieved when my name did not get called for it. (We later discovered that, by the end of the second day, they still had not finished jury selection. Ouch!) They called out about 25 names for the second case, and when my name once again wasn't called, my hopes started to rise. Maybe I wouldn't be called, and I'd be able to go home right away! No luck though, my name came up on the third case, and, just to rub it in, about three names after mine, they stopped and announced that the second case had been cancelled, and all those jurors could go home. Sigh!
It took a little bit longer for things to get sorted out, but by 10:00, the 25 jurors for the third case- myself included- were sitting up in a courtroom, waiting to go through the selection process. In case you don't know what that feels like, here's a basic overview: 13 people are called to sit in the jury box, and 8 more in a third row along the front. Both sides' lawyers interview the group as a whole and individuals to gauge their reactions to certain issues or ideas, each side getting 20 minutes to talk and get answers. At the end of that time, each side is allowed a certain number of dismissals, based on the type and severity of the case. If someone from the jury box is dismissed, the next person from the front row moves up to their spot, and Another juror is called to sit in the front row. Somewhat like the tea party in Disney's Alice in Wonderland, when they sing "new cup, new cup, move down, move down" and all move to a new position.
When either both sides are comfortable with the jurors in the jury box, or both have used up their dismissals, the 13 people in the box are the official jurors, and everyone else gets to either go home, or be assigned to a new case, if it's a busy day. Frustratingly (because as much as I can appreciate our system, I still would have liked to have gone home early), I was the very last person promoted into the jury box, and had to stick it out. Even more annoying was the fact that at least two of the jurors were very clearly giving provocative answers in an effort to get dismissed, and succeeded. Oh well.
By that time, it was lunch, so we had a recess (after being warned not to talk to the lawyers or their clients), and came back to get down to business. It was more than a little boring, mostly because the judge was required by law to read every single word of the instructions to us, and verify with each of us that we understood. Most of the instructions were "common sense," (snarky quotes intended), such as don't judge either side based on their personality, or whether you liked them, or their fashion sense- which is good, because the prosecuting lawyer had the worst-fitting pants I have ever seen- or a reminder of the "innocent until proven guilty" concept.
One thing that I paid attention to, however, was that they defined what "reasonable doubt" means. In case you don't know, criminal cases require proof 'beyond a reasonable doubt' that the crime was committed. Civil cases, such as those involving child support, only have to show a 'preponderance of evidence,' that is, it is more likely to me true than not. For criminal cases, however, the proof beyond a reasonable doubt concept is, as quoted shamelessly from wikipedia, "proof of such a convincing character that you would be willing to rely and act upon it without hesitation in the most important of your own affairs." In other words, if you would take this proof and act upon it in day-to-day life, then there is no reasonable doubt.
Due to tv shows and sensationalism of trials, however, a lot of people have it in their heads that what is required is proof "beyond the shadow of a doubt." If you stop and think for a moment, however, you'll see that that is a nearly impossible standard to aim for. Consider that video can be edited, pictures can be photoshopped, audio can be manipulated, memory begins to degrade immediately, and, well, people lie. If you want to take it to extremes and get absurdly philosophical, the only thing that one can be sure of "beyond the shadow of a doubt" is that one exists. Everything else has lots of wiggle room.
Jury duty, so far, had consisted of sitting in a room, being called, sitting in another room, being interviewed, being selected, and having a lot (dear lord a lot) of laws read at me. Then, at about 1:30pm, the real fun began...
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