TheIronSheik
SUPER ELITE UPPER TIER
Last week, for my first time ever, I was selected for jury duty. I've been called numerous times, but each time I showed up, all of the cases were pleaded out and we were sent home. Unfortunately, that didn't count as serving, so I'd usually see another jury duty mailer a couple months later. Hell, one time I returned home from my jury duty to a new mailer telling me to report the following week. You'd think the county only had 40 people in it.
So I reported Monday to the pool and we sat around until 1 pm. It was actually kind of nice because I was able to get a lot of reading done. When we finally got seated, I knew I was in trouble. I was #12 of 46, which meant I was already seated in the jury box. I did my best to look angry and unapproachable. When I used to travel all over the world, I learned this technique. As I walked through the airports of Tripoli and Caracas, I pretended to be pissed off at the world. No one ever approached me to try to sell me anything or to ask for help. It was a great tip.
When they started asking questions, I raised my had to let them know I had many police friends from when I attended the police academy and that I would easily take the word of a police officer over someone who had been arrested and charged with a crime. I thought that would definitely get me a red X. But the guy sitting next to me was an ACTUAL police officer and his answers kind of stole my thunder a little. When they called my number, my stomach sank like they had just found me guilty of some crime I was innocent of. The judge decided we'd come back on Tuesday to start since it was already 4 pm. I left the room sad and ashamed. I had the opportunity to say that I had a pinched nerve and that sitting for so long would be painful, but I banked on the police answers being enough. I felt like someone on Survivor who get sent home while holding the immunity idol. It was the perfect time to play it, yet for some asinine reason, I held on to it.
Tuesday morning, I met with the other jurors in our back room. Everyone seemed nice and I was excited to realize that no one seemed like that overbearing loudmouth that felt they had leadership skills. You know those people. Somewhere down the road, they had heard that a real leader will take charge and appoint themselves. Only issue is that most people who do this couldn't lead a sing-a-long at Bennigan's of their Happy Birthday song. Everyone just seemed fun and enjoyable to be around.
When the trial started, I actually remember thinking, "This could be fun." I had never seen a real courtroom and how it worked. I knew it wasn't like TV or the movies, but it might be fun. Right off the bat, I was amazed that besides me, everyone in the courtroom was white besides one other person. No, not the defendant you racist jerks. (Just kidding. I was sure it was going to the be defendant, too.) It was the lead prosecutor. She was a young black lady... with a God awful weave. A weave that looked like she found it on the highway as it was being run over, again and again, by 18 wheelers singing the Convoy theme song. As she started to speak, I realized that her voice sounded like Wanda Sykes. Which is great if you're a comedian. But less great if you are a prosecuting lawyer. She spoke with the same kind of confidence that I would have had if I was prosecuting the case. With all of my law knowledge. Her opening started out something like this: "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, over the next couple of days you're going to hear a lot about math, numbers and accounting practices." I had just entered the Fifth Circle of Hell.
She talked about how the defendant had stolen money from her previous employer and that she was charged with fraud and theft. She ended her statement by saying, "After you've heard all of the details, you'll realize the defense, even though they bring up a lot of distracting points, doesn't have a leg to stand on." She then sat down and the defense attorney approached us to give his opening. I say approached and not 'walked" because he wheeled his wheel chair. You see, he had no legs. Literally, no legs. To stand on. I prayed to whoever would listen to keep me from breaking out into laughter. They granted my wish, thank whoever they are.
The case went on until Thursday evening. Each day, the lawyers would bring up a piece of evidence that contained a check and made the witnesses read from the checks. It was horrible. The same checks, over and over. And each witness spoke with the pizzazz that made Stephen Hawking sound like the greatest orator in the history of the world. I fought to stay awake half the time and the other half I spent trying not to laugh as the lawyers said things like "Can you describe your duties, and remember, you are under oath." My fellow jurors all sat scribbling notes into their notepads as I sat on my notepad. I went my entire high school and college career without ever taking a note. I wasn't about to start now for $9 a day. Besides, I found it much more interesting watching the faces of everyone in the courtroom.
Not being able to talk to the other jurors about the case was hard. At each break, we'd all talk around the subject without actually bringing up the case, but we all couldn't wait until deliberations. On Friday morning, when the judge finally sent us back to deliberate, I wondered to myself how anyone could find this person not guilty on any charges. I mean, she took the stand and admitted that she had been arrested and pleaded guilty twice before this in the past 7 years on the same exact charges she was facing today. I worried two things: 1) that we'd all say guilty and come back into the courtroom too quick and be scolded by the judge or 2) that one of these jurors would think she was innocent and we'd have to spend hours convincing him/her that they were stupid and that she was obviously guilty. When they closed the door, we elected a foreman. My plan was that I was just going to be a quiet little mouse and not make any waves. I just wanted to go home.
The foreman started by saying, "Who thinks she's innocent of these (16) charges against her?" Everyone except me raised their hand. I was floored. There was no way I was letting this just go. I give credit to the defense attorney. Although I thought everything he said was easily seen as grasping for straws, he had convinced the other 11 jurors that there was reasonable doubt. For not having a leg (or legs) to stand on, he almost got her off scott free.
I went from trying to be unseen to being the person that everyone hated. After almost 5 hours deliberating, I had convinced the jurors to find her guilty on 10 of the 16 charges. After we all left the courthouse, I got in my car and searched online for her name. An article came up talking about the case. She had done this twice in the past and had admitted to the police that she had a problem and couldn't help herself. I hope these other jurors saw this same article and realized they almost let her go. People's hatred of the police and of business owners almost lead to this crazy lady getting off from stealing thousands of dollars from an innocent business owner. It made me sick to my stomach. I was, and still am, upset I didn't fight harder to get her charged on all counts. I hope it makes the other jurors just as sick.
Henry Fonda would have been proud of me.
So I reported Monday to the pool and we sat around until 1 pm. It was actually kind of nice because I was able to get a lot of reading done. When we finally got seated, I knew I was in trouble. I was #12 of 46, which meant I was already seated in the jury box. I did my best to look angry and unapproachable. When I used to travel all over the world, I learned this technique. As I walked through the airports of Tripoli and Caracas, I pretended to be pissed off at the world. No one ever approached me to try to sell me anything or to ask for help. It was a great tip.
When they started asking questions, I raised my had to let them know I had many police friends from when I attended the police academy and that I would easily take the word of a police officer over someone who had been arrested and charged with a crime. I thought that would definitely get me a red X. But the guy sitting next to me was an ACTUAL police officer and his answers kind of stole my thunder a little. When they called my number, my stomach sank like they had just found me guilty of some crime I was innocent of. The judge decided we'd come back on Tuesday to start since it was already 4 pm. I left the room sad and ashamed. I had the opportunity to say that I had a pinched nerve and that sitting for so long would be painful, but I banked on the police answers being enough. I felt like someone on Survivor who get sent home while holding the immunity idol. It was the perfect time to play it, yet for some asinine reason, I held on to it.
Tuesday morning, I met with the other jurors in our back room. Everyone seemed nice and I was excited to realize that no one seemed like that overbearing loudmouth that felt they had leadership skills. You know those people. Somewhere down the road, they had heard that a real leader will take charge and appoint themselves. Only issue is that most people who do this couldn't lead a sing-a-long at Bennigan's of their Happy Birthday song. Everyone just seemed fun and enjoyable to be around.
When the trial started, I actually remember thinking, "This could be fun." I had never seen a real courtroom and how it worked. I knew it wasn't like TV or the movies, but it might be fun. Right off the bat, I was amazed that besides me, everyone in the courtroom was white besides one other person. No, not the defendant you racist jerks. (Just kidding. I was sure it was going to the be defendant, too.) It was the lead prosecutor. She was a young black lady... with a God awful weave. A weave that looked like she found it on the highway as it was being run over, again and again, by 18 wheelers singing the Convoy theme song. As she started to speak, I realized that her voice sounded like Wanda Sykes. Which is great if you're a comedian. But less great if you are a prosecuting lawyer. She spoke with the same kind of confidence that I would have had if I was prosecuting the case. With all of my law knowledge. Her opening started out something like this: "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, over the next couple of days you're going to hear a lot about math, numbers and accounting practices." I had just entered the Fifth Circle of Hell.
She talked about how the defendant had stolen money from her previous employer and that she was charged with fraud and theft. She ended her statement by saying, "After you've heard all of the details, you'll realize the defense, even though they bring up a lot of distracting points, doesn't have a leg to stand on." She then sat down and the defense attorney approached us to give his opening. I say approached and not 'walked" because he wheeled his wheel chair. You see, he had no legs. Literally, no legs. To stand on. I prayed to whoever would listen to keep me from breaking out into laughter. They granted my wish, thank whoever they are.
The case went on until Thursday evening. Each day, the lawyers would bring up a piece of evidence that contained a check and made the witnesses read from the checks. It was horrible. The same checks, over and over. And each witness spoke with the pizzazz that made Stephen Hawking sound like the greatest orator in the history of the world. I fought to stay awake half the time and the other half I spent trying not to laugh as the lawyers said things like "Can you describe your duties, and remember, you are under oath." My fellow jurors all sat scribbling notes into their notepads as I sat on my notepad. I went my entire high school and college career without ever taking a note. I wasn't about to start now for $9 a day. Besides, I found it much more interesting watching the faces of everyone in the courtroom.
Not being able to talk to the other jurors about the case was hard. At each break, we'd all talk around the subject without actually bringing up the case, but we all couldn't wait until deliberations. On Friday morning, when the judge finally sent us back to deliberate, I wondered to myself how anyone could find this person not guilty on any charges. I mean, she took the stand and admitted that she had been arrested and pleaded guilty twice before this in the past 7 years on the same exact charges she was facing today. I worried two things: 1) that we'd all say guilty and come back into the courtroom too quick and be scolded by the judge or 2) that one of these jurors would think she was innocent and we'd have to spend hours convincing him/her that they were stupid and that she was obviously guilty. When they closed the door, we elected a foreman. My plan was that I was just going to be a quiet little mouse and not make any waves. I just wanted to go home.
The foreman started by saying, "Who thinks she's innocent of these (16) charges against her?" Everyone except me raised their hand. I was floored. There was no way I was letting this just go. I give credit to the defense attorney. Although I thought everything he said was easily seen as grasping for straws, he had convinced the other 11 jurors that there was reasonable doubt. For not having a leg (or legs) to stand on, he almost got her off scott free.
I went from trying to be unseen to being the person that everyone hated. After almost 5 hours deliberating, I had convinced the jurors to find her guilty on 10 of the 16 charges. After we all left the courthouse, I got in my car and searched online for her name. An article came up talking about the case. She had done this twice in the past and had admitted to the police that she had a problem and couldn't help herself. I hope these other jurors saw this same article and realized they almost let her go. People's hatred of the police and of business owners almost lead to this crazy lady getting off from stealing thousands of dollars from an innocent business owner. It made me sick to my stomach. I was, and still am, upset I didn't fight harder to get her charged on all counts. I hope it makes the other jurors just as sick.
Henry Fonda would have been proud of me.
Good read.... I had a similarly interesting story.
He was actually a pretty friendly/intelligent guy, or so it seemed, during our breaks. But we got into the deliberation room and he dooshed out quicker than Eminence on his first day on the job. I was floored. I remember saying "dude, you HAVE to be kidding, right?". He ended up convincing a couple others that the evidence wasn't strong enough and the guy got off.
... I've done a few mind-altering things since then. 
