Right before Christmas, I got this in the mail.
“Dear Citizen,” it read. “By the order of the Honorable President Judge, you are hereby summoned to appear for jury service in the Court of Common Pleas.”
This was my reaction: YAY!
A lot of people might think that’s a weird response, because almost everyone I have ever known who has been called for jury duty responds with something like “Ugh! I don’t have time for this.”
I understand. Who does?
But instead of trying to concoct a really good reason that might convince the Office of Jury Management to postpone or excuse me, I’m going to show up at the courthouse on my date of service, as ordered by the Honorable President Judge, cross my fingers, and hope I get selected for a jury.
I’m a really good juror. I’m fair, reasonable, open minded and willing to consider both sides of an argument. In fact, I think they should summon me for jury duty more often, but I’ve only been called to jury duty twice. The first time, I was summoned to serve in Los Angeles County just a few weeks after I had moved out of state and, unfortunately, the Office of Jury Management had to excuse me. Then, about ten years ago, I was summoned in my current County of abode. Although I had a full-time job and school-age children, I landed as a juror on a case in civil court involving two country bumpkin-type neighbors who were feuding like the Hatfields and McCoys.
The plaintiff claimed his neighbor had assaulted him with his truck and injured his knee, which suspiciously extended his already lengthy unemployment. The defendant swore he did not ram his neighbor with his truck and disputed that his neighbor’s knee was injured by providing a video he secretly recorded that showed the plaintiff dancing at a party a few days after the incident.
Although I thought this was real Jerry Springer, edge of your seat stuff, I recall the judge occasionally nodded off, as indicated by his slumped posture and soft snoring. But everyone just ignored his brief naps, because His Honor was always awake when he had to give instructions or do something judge-like in the courtroom.
In the end, the jury decided the defendant did hit the plaintiff with his truck, but awarded him nothing since everyone believed he was greatly exaggerating so he wouldn’t have to work.
Serving on a jury was a fascinating experience and I’m happy to do it again.
This time, though, I’m married to a man who works in law enforcement and my husband is trying to warn me that defense attorneys generally don’t allow jurors who have law enforcement connections.
That’s not fair. Maybe I should write a letter to the Fifth Judicial District.
“Dear Court of Common Pleas,” I would say. “Thank you for your Summons. Although my husband is a law enforcement officer, please don’t recuse me from service on the presumption that I automatically have prejudices that would bias my opinion. I will be impartial. I promise. And besides, unlike a lot of people who are annoyed when they summoned for jury duty, I want to serve. Please don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
This will be my reaction in a few weeks if I am allowed to impact the scales of justice and serve on a jury:
YAY!
I’ll keep you posted.
***
Ann K. Howley is the award-winning author of Confessions of a Do-Gooder Gone Bad.
Please visit her website at http://annkhowley.com/#about-ann
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