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| - They finally nailed me. I went from "how can I finagle my way out of this," to "how can I get ON a jury." The difference? My unemployment benefits are long gone. I NEED the money. Even if it's only $40 a day.
Thanks to my low number, I was among the first 45 potential jurors herded into line. I was included in the first 23, designated the "panel." That means I was one of the prime candidates. The additional 22 are drafted to assure a sufficient number to round out a jury after the grueling "voir dire" phase, the process by which jurors with potential biases are identified and excused.
From the getgo, the case was explained as open-and-shut, likely to last only two days. Hey, 80 bucks! Enough to pay a utility bill or at the very least a little beer money. I kept quiet throughout the questioning. Prospective jurors are invited to relate their experiences about past encounters with law enforcement and the justice system. Had I any qualms about my ability to be impartial, I would have spoken up. I was under oath, after all. I decided hell no, I can be impartial.
For those wishing to escape jury duty, here is your chance. Just make an issue about any voir dire topic and you will likely be excused. It doesn't mean you are not worthy. From a pool of 45, 13 are selected based on their answers during voir dire. Getting excused from one panel doesn't necessarily get you off the hook, however. You must report back to Jury Services for possible reassignment.
After the jury was empaneled (I was #12), a young woman protested that she had a job interview the following morning. "Why didn't you say something?" the judge asked. "I didn't think I would be excused," she said. She needs a life coach. You are given every chance to state your reasons for not serving. The flimsiest excuse might be honored. If the judge and the attorneys agree, boom, you're gone. After the trial, the kindly judge (The Honorable Douglas W. Herndon) went so far as to apologize to the young lass. He told her he would gladly speak to the recruiter.
Up to five days before your reporting date, you can call the automated system and reschedule.
Whereas my first experience was painless, this time was a horror show. A thousand prospective jurors were called. The jury corral was crammed beyond capacity, with as many as 100 draftees having to stand outside until seating came available. Meanwhile, those inside the corral had to suffer in stifling heat, struggling for a breath of fresh air. Those with body odor issues made matters worse.
Judge Herndon later explained that the throng of 1000 included 250 for one murder trial alone. The scene at the Fremont Street parking garage was another fright. The line to get in wound around two blocks. It took me 20 minutes to get in. Toward the front subhumans tried to barge in. Some fools actually let 'em. I say don't give these lowlifes an inch. What makes people like this feel entitled to cut in front and not wait like all the other chumps? One juror paid $20 at another garage rather than fight the mob.
The line waiting to get into the courthouse wound out the door and down the block. Another lengthy wait in the chilly wind.
Once inside, the gathering was subjected to a tiresome movie featuring the reprehensible and revolting husband-and-wife news team known as the Wagners. They managed to mangle the legal term "peremptory," an inexcusable gaffe.
At first I was annoyed with the jury clerks screaming over the PA system. They acted toward the group as if they were military recruits or prison inductees. There's way too much yelling. The marshall who took our group to the 16th floor tried his hand at a drill sergeant impersonation. What a jerk, I thought. Later he calmed down and turned out to be nice enough. I came to realize the jury wranglers coped pretty well with conditions that made everyone miserable.
The brief trial was monotonous and repetitive. I found myself zoning out a couple of times but I quickly snapped out of it. You have to pay attention. This is serious business.
The case was air-tight. While the rest of us sat wondering what to do, a young woman brilliantly summarized the case in about three sentences. Another woman suggested a vote by raising hands. Guilty. Without two leaders who seized the initiative, it might have taken us a while longer to get our act together.
After the trial, Judge Herndon visited with the jury for a brief informal chat. He's very impressive. As a fellow juror said, "Now we know who to vote for next time."
We also had a chance to speak to the prosecutor. Dazed by the whole trial experience, I didn't have my wits about me. Later, I realized I should have asked him to thank Crystal Z., the heroic woman who confronted the drunk driver. So I will thank her now. When the near-comatose defendant pulled over on Summerlin Parkway, her ex-husband jumped out and yanked his keys. The community owes both of you a debt of gratitude.
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