Yesterday I was summoned to COURT!It wasn't a complete surprise, though.
They wanted me for jury duty last month, but I deferred in order to not miss school when my students and I were reviewing for final exams.
I set an early alarm but asked my father to call me in the morning, just in case. I was terrified of sleeping through my alarm or running late because I didn't want to be in contempt of court!
I dressed up and allowed extra travel time, and I arrived just in time (meaning, I suppose, that I hadn't actually allowed for extra travel time; I merely had budgeted just enough). Anyway...
The security guards that stood beside the walk-through metal detectors and the conveyor belts were welcoming and jolly. Even the court bailiffs were of jovial personality. This was an unexpected demeanor for the workers of such a serious jaunt, but then I figured they had to be friendly and light because the hundreds of us jurors certainly didn't want to be there.
Finally, we all assembled into the hard wooden pews of a giant courtroom with pastel yellow walls and baby blue accents. Of course, I thought I couldn't be happier in a room made of my two favorite colors! But then I was: there before me was my friend Barb! She had gotten summoned, too!We were relieved to see one another, and we spent the whole day chatting it up, laughing, and making the most of this experience, probably to the chagrin of others.
The bailiffs had a movie for us planned, and this we watched as if we were students on a social studies field trip. The film reminded us of the importance of our freedom and liberties and how a trial by a jury of peers was a fair way of offering justice to the accused.
They explained that today many of the accused would plead guilty, just knowing that a trial by jury was only moments away, with all of us in the building, poised and ready to enter the courtroom. For each guilty plea made today, many of us would be sent home, they explained.
In the meantime, we would spend the next several hours simply WAITING.
We jurors were given about 10 different rooms in which to reside. There were magazines and puzzles and two televisions with non-local channels and no news networks, so that we couldn't hear anything or be influenced in any manner about the trials that were going on or were going to soon take place. Newspapers had been confiscated on the way in, and so all that remained for us was boredom.
But, fortunately for me, I had packed my laptop and all my graduate homework, and--within minutes--I had set up a nice little workstation for myself. There was a wireless network I could tap into, and so I wrote several papers and took my Facebook fix in between submissions to my professor via email.
At Noon, we broke for lunch, but not before getting our red "JURY" pins to wear, so as to alert the public not to speak about any trials around us.
Not wanting to get mugged or bribed to rule in a certain favor, I removed my pin as soon as I was out of view of the police that stood by the jury exit doors. (Tee-hee.)
Barb and I got take-out from Isaac's, then ate in a beautiful courtyard with a nice girl named Johanna. The weather outside was gorgeous, a stark contrast to the stagnant air inside the jury rooms. After eating, I continued working on my laptop, ever thankful for a hardy battery. When lunch was over, the three of us sat together at a table inside, and I continued my graduate work there.Another hour passed.
And then they called for juror numbers 242 through 312. I was #248. *gulp*
I packed up my things, said good-bye to Barb and Johanna, and followed the other selected jurors into a tiny holding room. We all waited in silence for what was to come.
I expected that we would be told the kind of trail we would be ruling on and would be given the chance to opt out of it, if the topic was something for which we would be biased.
Finally the bailiff entered. She lowered her voice to a whisper and explained, "Please control your remarks to what I am about to say, lest anyone outside of this jury room hear you. You all have been excused and may now be released from jury duty. Thank you for being here. Please return your pins, and then you may go home."
Now while I could have yelped with glee, I didn't. And I didn't refrain simply because I felt sorry for the other jurors who didn't get to go home. Oddly enough, I refrained from yelping with glee because I felt just the opposite; I was SAD.
As I texted a parting message to Barb and walked slowly to the parking garage, I was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt. Although I had gone into this wanting to get out, I had spent the morning pumping myself up with the desire to seek truth, protect the innocent, and serve justice. I was ready to take my responsibility seriously, and then suddenly I had been cut off from the responsibility altogether. I felt like a deflated balloon.
Even though I was dressed professionally, did they not want me because I was wearing a little bit of religious paraphernalia? Did my wooden saint bracelet and the cords of my Brown Scapular show a bias? Or had they sent me home because of the little message I wrote on the bottom of my juror survey, explaining that I was opposed to the death penalty in all circumstances?
All these things were true to my identity, but should I have kept my identity more secret so that my "normalcy" could have made it into the jury box with me, where I would then rule according to my values? Or had I revealed these things about myself prematurely so that I could selfishly have the next two days free?
Sensitive as I am, I wanted to cry. If I were on trial, I would want someone like me in that jury box, and yet here I was going home, with all my faculties for logical reasoning, seeking truth, and having heart. As I passed men and women on the street, I wondered what the accused person looked like and what the apparent victim looked like. I would never know.Perhaps I should be thankful. Maybe it was random that I was sent home, since my number did, after all, fall into the range of numbers they called for release. I was spared the burden of responsibility, and so, I suppose, I should be thankful. I will not loose sleep or have to worry about how my actions changed the course of many others' lives.
And maybe God knew I was too emotional and couldn't handle such a thing. In God's decision, I trust.
