Courthouse Rock
So I was assigned to standby jury duty, and was so cocksure that I wouldn't have jury duty, in that completely baseless and irrational way that some pregnant women are sure they aren't carrying a child of a particular sex, when of course they are. Of course, when I called the hotline (1-800-THE-JURY, no joke) to confirm my status, I was told to get my ass to the courthouse at 8:15 a.m.
I took a cab to jury duty, because it was held in a courthouse at the vertex of several highways so frightening that just the idea of driving on any one of them made me shudder. I felt vindicated later on, when the juror wrangler (or whatever the official term is) urged everyone to stay within walking distance, "because if you get in your car you will get on one of several confusing and poorly marked highways and you could end up in Chelsea, Revere, or somewhere else very far away."
The last time I had jury duty was in a huge scary courthouse with an adjacent jail, and the jurors were shepherded around and nobody talked to each other. This time there were maybe 18 people (two named Marie) in the jury pool, and we all sat in this little windowless room and it was like The Breakfast Club. One woman talked about how she'd never be chosen for duty because she'd been arrested several times. Another guy, a 20-year-old college student, discussed how his lack of summer job and the rising cost of gas is cramping his social life; he has recently attended two parties at which the beer to person ratio was 20:1, and that the cost of the beer and its transportation is becoming a hardship. One chick just finished her master's in journalism and writes art reviews for a local arts magazine; she had lots of piercings and one of the Maries joked about how surprising it was that she made it through "security" (a woman at the front door with a hand-held the metal detector). We got a break and all walked to Dunkin' Donuts in a group.
We watched a sappy movie about the justice system in which a female judge and a very diverse group of lawyers depicted how progressive the makers of the film, and the Attorney General's Office, are (props to them - maybe they could work on acting now that they've nailed diversity). We all guffawed. Then at 10:30 the young judge (a real live woman of color) came down to the windowless holding tank where we waited and dismissed us, thanking us for being there and performing our civic duties.
Nicely done.
Posted by Dori at 9:57 AM
4 Comments
Aside from the Breakfast Club aspect and the much lower numbers, sounds much like my jury duty experience. It's so nice not to be chosen.
I can't help it, I'm always a little jealous of people who get jury duty. For some reason I've always wanted to do it, but I've never ever been called. Or sent a letter. Or whatever happens. See I wouldn't know!
Of course I say that, and then when I finally get the chance it will be the worst possible timing.
I am dying to have jury duty. I have been registered to vote since I was 18, (over 20 yrs ago) and recevied the notice once and was not needed when I called. I love hanging out like that with totally random diverse people. And of course, administering justice (yea right).
So odd how the stats work out. I've never been selected for a trial, but I've physically attended jury duty three times, and been on standby at least one other time. So my "number has come up" four times in the 12ish years I've been eligible.
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