I’m fairly certain this was only the third time I’ve been called, during my entire ridiculous life. Twice to Lackawanna County Court in Scranton, and once to Los Angeles County, but after we’d already moved here. So, I’ve only actually reported twice. It seems like some people are called all the time, but not me. Sometimes I wish I’d get involved in a long drawn-out trial, maybe with sequestration and all that. I think it would be interesting, for sure. But I’ve never made it anywhere near an actual jury. I’ve only done time in the pre-jury holding pen, and been dismissed.
Yesterday I went down there and entered the garage where they provide free parking. That thing must have been built during the 1930s, and was extremely narrow and dark. It felt like something out of SAW. There was a lot of construction going on in there, and many of the parking spots were filled with heavy machinery. I just kept climbing up, up, up, and was possibly in a neighboring building at the end. Then I emerged into sunlight on the roof of this horror movie, where I finally found a few open parking spaces. Grrr…
Some guy in a giant pickup truck parked near me, climbed out, and immediately said, “This is bullshit.” Being on the same wavelength, we began a conversation. He was there for jury duty too, and predicted we’d be “out in four minutes.” I told him that’s pretty optimistic, and he repeated, “Four minutes!”
We went looking for an elevator, and never found one. While searching, an older man joined us and he was listening to an obnoxious sports talk radio show through his phone. And that thing was cranked! Everybody on there had a strong NY/NJ accent, which makes a person sound perpetually exasperated. Going on and on about the Yankees, etc. And the three of us walked down, down, down the stairs… ’cause there was apparently no longer an elevator in the building.
The old dude didn’t say a word to us until we got near the courthouse. Then he pointed and said, “You gentlemen are going to want to go through those doors there, and I’ll see you on the inside!” Then he walked away with his impossibly loud talk show blaring. Who the fuck was that guy?
The room upstairs was packed to the gills, and there was an overflow section in the hall, also super-crowded. How many people do they call to these thing? Holy shit. There must have been 200 people, and that’s not an exaggeration. I found an open chair, but was wedged between two guys who were slathered in cologne. I’m in hell… I confirmed to myself inside my head. Last time I went through this thing I was there for eight hours, before they mercifully let us go. Nobody said a word to me, I just sat for eight hours and a man eventually came in and told us we’re free to go. But it wasn’t so freaking crowded then. This was going to be an ordeal.
Then I heard the radio show again. Off in the distance, but getting louder. It was that dude, now wearing a fancy blazer, greeting people as he walked. I still don’t know what his role was there, but everybody knew him, and he knew everybody. And he was still tapped into NYC sports talk at a very high volume.
After a while a gentlemanly older man in judge’s robes appeared and asked us all to squeeze into the main room. The temperature inside was way too high, probably because of the overload of humanity in there. I looked around and was disgusted by many in the crowd. People wearing sweats… cargo shorts… Spongebob pajama pants… There were many baseball caps and hoodies with construction company logos on the back. Some big woman was piled in a chair wearing an Ocean City 2015 shirt. I wondered if she’d decided to dress up today and rejected the 2011 shirt?
Finally the judge started talking to us, but in a very hushed tone. I could make out maybe every other word. Very soft spoken. He was telling a story about Vietnam, where he said he served as a young man. It was heart-wrenching tale, apparently, but it was hard to follow. Then, an amazing thing happened. The guy with the sports talk reappeared in the hallway, with the volume at the same outrageous level. He was way down the hall, but the radio show was louder than the judge. Then the guy called into the show! I ain’t shittin’ ya. He called into the talk show and was on the air.
“Thanks for taking my call, Marco!” he shouted. Right in the middle of the Vietnam tale. “Let me throw a name out at you! Horace Clarke. Are you familiar with Horace Clarke?! Played in the ’60s, fantastic underrated player!” It went on and on, and you could hear both sides of the conversation, because it was on speaker. The judge was whispering his story that probably had a poignant and relevant payoff at the end, and I was 100% focused on this loud baseball talk down the hall. It was crazy! Like something off Green Acres. But the judge didn’t seem to notice, and continued without acknowledging the insanity.
After the talk was over we went back to our cramped seats, and waited. I couldn’t stand being wedged between those two cologne boys, so I got up and began pacing. And I overheard a snippet of a conversation that included the line, “It’s hard to get work as a dietician when you’re a big fat person.”
Eventually a woman appeared and announced that she was going to call 45 names, and those people would be going upstairs with her and “getting to spend the day with us.” So, she started listing ’em off and my name was never called. She took the “lucky” 45, and disappeared. We were told not to move, that somebody would be in shortly to tell us what was happening next. And about five minutes later a guy came in and told us we were free to go. Ninety minutes total… Not bad at all. I was there from 9 to 10:30. A little longer than the 4 minutes my new friend predicted, but I wasn’t complaining. “Screw it. I’m telling my boss I’m on a case. I’m not going back until Thursday,” he told me as we walked back to the scary parking garage. “You sound like one hell of an employee,” I wanted to reply. But I just laughed and wished him luck.
What kind of jury duty experiences have you had? Anything crazy? Please tell us about it in the comments section. Supposedly I’m good for three years now. We’ll see.
Last night I uploaded a new episode of the podcast. It’s available right here, or wherever you get podcasts. Here’s your summary:
In this one, I tell you about our incredibly active weekend that included a radical overhaul of the Surf Report bunker, the surprise arrival of a commercial dumpster in our driveway, and a crazy turn of events while receiving a quote on some extensive landscaping work. I also discuss the great new Deadwood movie and play another message left on the Surf Report podcast hotline that touches off a lengthy story from olden times. It’s a fun episode. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!
Also, give us a call at the new hotline! You might end up in a future episode of the podcast. Just leave a message, ask a question, make a suggestion, whatever floats your ferry.
And the new Deadwood movie debuted on HBO on Friday. Needless to say, I was there with my fuck-counting pad. Check it out. It was still fairly fuck-heavy, but not anywhere near the high bar set by the series. It was great, though. I plan to watch it again real soon. Let us know your thoughts if you’ve seen it.
I’ll be back on Thursday.
Have a great one, my friends!
Now playing in the bunker
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The blaring sound is messed up. But then so are the people I see walking around with big 1970s headphones on while they walk straight into traffic.
Even worse – having to hear someone listen to Rush Limbaugh blaring out of someone’s car parked across from my house.
I guess you didn’t get the memo? Court orders are optional these days, just tell them you’re reviewing the jury summons and file it in the shredder.
I have been called so many times I am now permanently on the “Do Not Summon” list.
Now all of these have been in WV, mind you, so put it in perspective.
I wound up foreperson on a brandishing case in magistrate court in front of my former candy striper supervisor, who was also my mother’s former best friend. We determined that shaking a broom at a Fish Pig (aka DNR officer) wasn’t cause for prosecution.
I wound up on a paternity jury at the dawn of DNA (back when they still tried it rather than saying, yep, that’s that brat’s Pa). They brought in all kinds of experts with easels and big pieces of paper trying to explain it all, and all the mouthbreathers just zoned out. When it came time for deliberations, we wound up a hung jury because no man back there was going to hang a paternity ticket on a fellow dude. That and they kept saying, “Show me a picture of that kid and I’ll tell you if he’s the father. This DNA crap is BS.”
Then I got called for voir dire a bunch of times but I just gave the attorneys the hairy eyeball and didn’t get seated.
I just told them that I’d be great on a jury because I can spot a guilty person just by looking at them.
Excused.
Came so very close to being foreperson on a case that was going to run at least two weeks (I guess it’s OK to divulge that before the courtroom proceedings start, in case you can’t make the time committment?), but the bad guy pleaded and we were let go in a few hours.
Waiting to be called was a terrible experience. I’m sure it would be worse now that I’m full of anxiety and hate people.
I was foreperson on a jury in NC dealing with a drug deal case (heroin). On my jury I had the racist redneck who found him guilty at the beginning and said with a straight face “yep, let’s string him up”. I had the old black church lady who said “well maybe this boy is just runnin’ with the wrong crowd”. In between I had school teachers, single moms, plumbers, cashiers, waitresses – the whole cross section of American society.
The problem for me was that the prosecutor was trying to pin him for trafficking (10 year minimum) as well as possession with intent to distribute (< 2 years). He was young and the prosecution did not present a good case on trafficking – I thought they were trying to pad their resumes with what they thought would be an easy conviction. We found him guilty on two lesser charges and not guilty on the more serious ones, and I have to admit I worked hard as foreperson to lean it that way.
On a side note, I got off the elevator (our courthouse had one, even in 1994) to see him in the orange jumpsuit and handcuffs next to his lawyer (in the courtroom he was in a civilian suit). I often wonder if we had found him guilty of the more serious charges would they have appealed due to the prejudice of what I saw.
Good for you, and thanks for doing that.
I’ve also been called 3 times (and I’m a few years older than you) – first time sat through the orientation video and then was excused. 2nd time my boss wrote a letter and got me excused. The last time, a couple years ago, I actually was picked for a medical malpractice case and spent two weeks on duty. I was dreading it at first, but it turned out to be a great experience. They treated us like gods…never had to sit for more than a couple hours at a time without a break, got 90 minutes for lunch, got to bolt by about 3:30 or 4 every day. And my job paid my full salary so the $15 per day was some extra “fun money”. Would gladly do it again.
I’ve always thought it would be cool to serve on a jury.
I’ve only had to go in once. A bunch of us sat on benches in a big room. Every once in a while the bailiff came in and collected a few people. At 3:00 or so, he said “the rest of you can go home,” so I did.
A relative served on a jury for a gruesome murder and found it quite harrowing. Sleepless nights etc.
I’ve been called a couple of times, but have never been chosen to sit on a jury. No surprise, given the fact that I immediately let the lawyers interviewing potential jurors know that I do not trust the police, nor do I believe in the fairness of the legal system in general. Rich folks get away with murder while poor, non-white folks are inordinately found guilty on trumped-up charges. I am typically the first one to be dismissed. Again, no surprise….
I have always taken a couple of hours on June 6 to consider the courage displayed and sacrifices made by the hundreds of thousands of common Americans who willingly put their lives on the line to fight and defeat Germany and Japan (several million in the War, several hundred thousand saw some combat). Certainly some were drafted, but in large part those who saw extensive combat were volunteers. I should point out for the youngsters that June 6 represents a commemoration of both wars, European and Pacific — certainly the invasion of France by the Allies, but also the creation of what would have been the largest seagoing task force in history (were it not for invasion of Normandy) to invade the Marianas, resulting in both the taking of Tinian, Saipan and Guam AND the essential destruction of Japanese carrier air power in the Battle of the Philippine Sea (and the Great Marianas Turkey Shoot). This is the time in 1944 that both theaters of war changed into wars of attrition. Several millions of people were still to die, but State Fascism was doomed for another generation. We owe these Americans, Brits, Canadians, Australians, French, Russians and other fighting people more than we usually take time to acknowledge.
John
Roger that.
Absolutely. I frequently feel fortunate that I’m now going to make it through my life without getting caught up in similar. I cannot imagine. Even today the coast of northern France from the water gives me the chills, you can still see the scars on the landscape.
Well said, John. I’d like to add that we also owe it to them to do everything we can to ensure that state fascism stays dead.
Right on John. It makes me physically sick to hear about alleged leaders now making militaristic threats and proposing attacks on others like it’s just another day at the office. More people need to remember the horrors of a real war. Just because they can sit behind a desk and push a button does not reduce the consequences.
Amen, John. Hard to believe , but I started my military career when these brave men and women were finishing theirs. I had a couple of trainers who were the perfect example of what you describe above. Common Americans who answered the call. One was a fighter pilot who went on to be one of the most decorated men in the war and the other was a radioman/waist gunner on a B-29. Both flew in the European Theater and put their lives on the line daily. All those years later, they were still serving by training a young, dumb Airman that knew nothing. For that training, I will be forever grateful. The Greatest Generation.
I would love to serve on a jury but I doubt it will ever happen. I’ve been called twice and had the exact same experience both times before being told I was excused. We were asked if we had any legal experience, I said I graduated from a top tier law school, passed the Bar, and chose not to practice. Conversation in the courtroom came to a complete halt and everyone at the bench turned to stare, and then I was struck. I’ve also heard they don’t like nurses on juries so that’s another mark against me. At one of my summons a woman collapsed in the courthouse and people had heard I was a nurse so they came and got me instead of automatically calling 911. I made sure she was breathing and then I called 911. I think it would be interesting to be on a jury.
How ironic, I just got a summons in the mail about 2 weeks ago telling me I would need to be available the last week of June and the first week of July. I served one other time about 20 years ago, nothing crazy, I was picked to serve on a jury that heard 2 cases: a habitual DUI offender and a cocaine dealer. We convicted both.
Apropos of nothing, happy 50th anniversary of Mickey Mantle’s number-retiring ceremony.