I was called for Jury Duty this week. Surprisingly, I have never been called before, ever, anywhere.
From what I'm told, being a semi-lucid non-crack addicted registered voter with no felony convictions puts me among a select few here in Washington, DC--so I was called to serve only five months after registering to vote (and I further understand I can look forward to be called like clockwork every two years).
What for other people would be an exercise in tedium, for a civics-nerd like me, was a roller coaster of excitement! I got to spend a day watching the wheels of justice spin!
Well, it was also an exercise in terror--because I was in absolute fear of being selected for a trial. When I got my notice, I saw that the length of service was listed as "One Day." Excellent! In and out.
It wasn't until I looked at the back of the notice the night before serving that I read that "One Day" really meant that if I wasn't selected for a jury on the first day, I could go home. But if I was selected, I was there for the duration.
I thought about showing up with my underwear on the outside of my pants and singing show tunes, but I figured that at least four other people would try that routine.
To answer the central question, no, I was not selected for a jury. After hours of waiting in lines and answering questions from attorneys, I ended up about five people down the list from where the game of jury chess seemed to end. Because it took up so much time, I was excused--civic duty fulfilled.
The most amazing takeaway from this process was my awe at the amount of time and effort that goes into a trial. The pool I was part of was 60 people--all of whom took the day off to do the same thing I did. Fourteen of them will be there for a week while this trial plays out. Add in the time of the attorneys, judge, bailiffs, court workers, etc...--it really adds up.
And all this for a guy who was obviously guilty.
I'm kidding.
Actually, that was the excuse I was going to use to get out of service: my "deeply held belief" that anyone who would wear a denim jacket with a plaid shirt had to be guilty of something--why not convict him of this? Needless to say, that bit of genius went the same way as the underwear idea.
In all seriousness, now I'm thinking that I might take a day off work sometime and sit and watch a trial take place. I can keep watching the wheels of justice (live!) without all that pesky stuff about objectivity and guilt/innocence.
