Well, that was a fun civic experience.
Jan. 6th, 2009 08:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaI am free from jury duty for another year.
In contrast to Michael's jury duty experience, in which he sat in the juror's waiting room all day long and was never asked to stir, I went to jury selection for two trials. The first was for cocaine possession (my honest-to-God first reaction, jaded Baltimorean that I am: "they actually try people for that?!"), and the second was for cocaine possession, intent to distribute, and unlawfully carrying a handgun.
The first courtroom was unbelievably gorgeous. It was small, with marble walls and a magnificent high domed ceiling covered with elaborate plaster rosettes, and an ornately carved judge's bench that spanned the whole room and had little gilt heads set in its dark wood. The grandeur and majesty of the law conveyed thereby was marred by the fact that, while we were waiting for the judge, we heard her in her chambers, screaming like a fishwife at someone on the phone.
When the judge entered, we stood and were sworn in. She explained jury service and the process of voir dire and took attendance by juror number. The attorneys and defendant were asked to stand and present themselves for inspection, and she asked if any of us knew them. Then she went through a long roster of other questions. If your answer to any of them was "yes," you stood and, when asked, recited your juror number, which she entered into her computer. Most useless question: "If anyone is prejudiced about race, sex, ethnicity, religion, or national origin, please stand." Most interesting question: the one where she explained, carefully and at length, that police officers were just as likely as anyone else, but not more likely than anyone else, to be truthful, and asked people to stand if they had strong opinions one way or another about the truthfulness of the police.
I appreciated that she spelled out exactly what she expected of the jury: what time they would start in the morning, how long they would break for lunch, what time they would finish, how many days she expected it to be. Then she asked if anyone felt jury service would be a hardship, and I stood along with a lot of other people. That was her last question. We were called up to the bench one by one to explain any of our answers that she felt needed greater elaboration. At the bench were the judge, both attorneys, and - this surprised me - the defendant. Huh. A white noise machine prevented the other jurors from being able to hear what you said.
I explained about the grant deadline, and the judge was extremely skeptical. Then I mentioned the ninth-month-of-pregnancy thing, and said that although I didn't expect to go into labor in the next few days I found sitting still for a few hours to be very uncomfortable. She dismissed me for cause.
The second courtroom was larger but much less attractive. No marble, no museum-quality woodwork, no dome with plaster rosettes. It did have a bunch of big oil paintings of, presumably, historic Maryland judges. The judge was less enthusiastic about explaining jury service in minute detail, probably because it was the end of the day and all of us had been through one selection process already. The procedure was the same, but he had a different long string of questions for us. Most interesting question this time around: "If anyone has very strong opinions about narcotics, so much so that you would not be able to give full consideration to the law as I explain that it applies in this case; for example, if you have a very strong belief that narcotic drugs should be legalized." Also the same question, for handguns.
The second judge introduced the question of jury duty as hardship by explaining to us that he had been drafted out of law school to go to Vietnam. Jury duty was inconvenient for everyone, he pointed out, but we would not be asked to wear a uniform, leave the country, carry a gun, or put ourselves in harm's way. He made it clear that we were only to declare a hardship if jury service would be "almost impossible," not just inconvenient, for us. I tried for it anyway. When it was my turn to approach the bench and give my reasons, he told me that he couldn't excuse me for either one, but that the court would keep my "unique situation" in mind. And after a long, long conference between the judge and the attorneys, I was excused along with a bunch of other people - maybe a third of the number who had attempted to claim a hardship. That was that. By this time, it was already 5:30 - I felt sorry for the people who still needed to wait and see who the attorneys wanted to empanel. But I escaped and went home.
It's a shame that my jury service came at this particular time, because I would actually be happy to serve on a jury. I think it would be interesting, and I also think it's my civic responsibility. But not the day a grant is due. And not when a baby is grinding his head against my cervix on a regular basis.
Well. I'll have other opportunities.
In contrast to Michael's jury duty experience, in which he sat in the juror's waiting room all day long and was never asked to stir, I went to jury selection for two trials. The first was for cocaine possession (my honest-to-God first reaction, jaded Baltimorean that I am: "they actually try people for that?!"), and the second was for cocaine possession, intent to distribute, and unlawfully carrying a handgun.
The first courtroom was unbelievably gorgeous. It was small, with marble walls and a magnificent high domed ceiling covered with elaborate plaster rosettes, and an ornately carved judge's bench that spanned the whole room and had little gilt heads set in its dark wood. The grandeur and majesty of the law conveyed thereby was marred by the fact that, while we were waiting for the judge, we heard her in her chambers, screaming like a fishwife at someone on the phone.
When the judge entered, we stood and were sworn in. She explained jury service and the process of voir dire and took attendance by juror number. The attorneys and defendant were asked to stand and present themselves for inspection, and she asked if any of us knew them. Then she went through a long roster of other questions. If your answer to any of them was "yes," you stood and, when asked, recited your juror number, which she entered into her computer. Most useless question: "If anyone is prejudiced about race, sex, ethnicity, religion, or national origin, please stand." Most interesting question: the one where she explained, carefully and at length, that police officers were just as likely as anyone else, but not more likely than anyone else, to be truthful, and asked people to stand if they had strong opinions one way or another about the truthfulness of the police.
I appreciated that she spelled out exactly what she expected of the jury: what time they would start in the morning, how long they would break for lunch, what time they would finish, how many days she expected it to be. Then she asked if anyone felt jury service would be a hardship, and I stood along with a lot of other people. That was her last question. We were called up to the bench one by one to explain any of our answers that she felt needed greater elaboration. At the bench were the judge, both attorneys, and - this surprised me - the defendant. Huh. A white noise machine prevented the other jurors from being able to hear what you said.
I explained about the grant deadline, and the judge was extremely skeptical. Then I mentioned the ninth-month-of-pregnancy thing, and said that although I didn't expect to go into labor in the next few days I found sitting still for a few hours to be very uncomfortable. She dismissed me for cause.
The second courtroom was larger but much less attractive. No marble, no museum-quality woodwork, no dome with plaster rosettes. It did have a bunch of big oil paintings of, presumably, historic Maryland judges. The judge was less enthusiastic about explaining jury service in minute detail, probably because it was the end of the day and all of us had been through one selection process already. The procedure was the same, but he had a different long string of questions for us. Most interesting question this time around: "If anyone has very strong opinions about narcotics, so much so that you would not be able to give full consideration to the law as I explain that it applies in this case; for example, if you have a very strong belief that narcotic drugs should be legalized." Also the same question, for handguns.
The second judge introduced the question of jury duty as hardship by explaining to us that he had been drafted out of law school to go to Vietnam. Jury duty was inconvenient for everyone, he pointed out, but we would not be asked to wear a uniform, leave the country, carry a gun, or put ourselves in harm's way. He made it clear that we were only to declare a hardship if jury service would be "almost impossible," not just inconvenient, for us. I tried for it anyway. When it was my turn to approach the bench and give my reasons, he told me that he couldn't excuse me for either one, but that the court would keep my "unique situation" in mind. And after a long, long conference between the judge and the attorneys, I was excused along with a bunch of other people - maybe a third of the number who had attempted to claim a hardship. That was that. By this time, it was already 5:30 - I felt sorry for the people who still needed to wait and see who the attorneys wanted to empanel. But I escaped and went home.
It's a shame that my jury service came at this particular time, because I would actually be happy to serve on a jury. I think it would be interesting, and I also think it's my civic responsibility. But not the day a grant is due. And not when a baby is grinding his head against my cervix on a regular basis.
Well. I'll have other opportunities.
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-07 01:31 am (UTC)On the other hand, a pregnancy at any stage is an ironclad reason to be exempted from jury duty in NSW: one would probably not even have to appear at the courthouse.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-07 01:44 am (UTC)Holy cow. Who can do that?! Retirees and unemployed people, I guess?
In Maryland, jury service is for one day (if you aren't seated on a jury) or one trial (if you are). They told us that most trials last 2-3 days - obviously some will be longer (a murder trial is going to last a lot longer than a drug-possession trial) but they know that, and can inform prospective jurors about it, going in. If I had been selected for either one of today's juries, I would have probably served through Friday.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-07 03:10 am (UTC)It's an issue of some concern at the moment, that jury trials are very very lengthy and that professionals are rarely able to sit on juries without serious financial hardship. In addition it is obviously increasing the length of time people have to wait for their case to be heard, especially problematic if one is held in custody. But the legal profession are also having difficulty avoiding it, as apparently it is now standard to call every possible witness to any violent crime and get expert testimony all the time too, and if they don't do that, appeals are more likely. Apparently for murder an eight week trial is now considered exceptionally short.