Jury Duty

A little before Christmas, I received a letter from the County asking me to complete a questionnaire regarding my eligibility for jury duty. I filled it out truthfully and returned it, hoping I was not selected. My dad chastised me for my attitude but it's not that I did not want to do my public duty. In fact, I do. But I was fearful of a few things.

About a month after returning my questionnaire, I received my summons.

My first fear about serving jury duty was that I would forget to show up on the day I was supposed to be there. I have actually missed two other jury calls, but was able to get out of paying a ticket by submitting paperwork that excused me from service because I was caring for a very young child. Even when I write things down, I have a lot of trouble remembering to show up for things that are not recurring, regular appointments.

I submitted my summons to work to secure the days off, and wrote the date in my calendar. And somehow, I actually remembered to show up on the morning of my service. Fear 1 resolved.

In the jury gathering room, I rested my chin on my hands and looked around. I had tried to make small talk with the two other women waiting with me at a small table, but they preferred to play with wireless electronics devices they brought with them. So I waited quietly, with my chin on my hands and periodically glancing at the clock on the wall, until a woman walked to the lectern in a corner of the room to speak.

My second fear was that I would be asked to listen to details of a criminal trial that I could not emotionally handle. I cringe when I hear some of the details on recent criminal trials on TV news. I cannot even imagine having to hear details of violent crime at length. Without my husband home to hold me after a long day of litigation, I would be in really bad shape if I had to listen to anything like that.

This woman told the jury pool that there were two trials at hand and both were civil trials. Whew! Fear 2 abated. No heinous crime was involved.

My third fear was Biblically based. Jesus' words carry a lot of weight with me. “For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Matthew 7:2 (NIV) The last thing I need, especially at a time in my life that I am praying for intervention, is to judge anyone. Thanks, but no thanks!

The jury pool ascended the stairs to be questioned by the judge and the attorneys. Everyone sat down and 14 (that includes two alternates) were called by name to the jury box. I was not one of the 14. The judge entered the room. Everyone stood, then sat, and the judge told us about the case to be tried. It was between two corporations. There were no individuals involved.

"Ahh...." I mentally sighed. Fear 3 was gone. My body relaxed and I was able to focus. I listened to all of the judge's questions and thought my answers to them. Residence location, marital status, where does your spouse work (if you have one), number and ages of children, how many grandchildren, where do you work, etc.

Then the attorneys had questions. Only one attorney from each set of attorneys (plantiff and defendant) rose to ask them. Have you ever before testified, have you ever been dissatisfied with the work someone has done for you and what did you do about it, and so on.  I really liked the defendant's female attorney. She seemed personable and more emotionally oriented. I am sure that was part of her presentation (I am also reasonably certain the defendant should be paying out some serious money to the plaintiff), but it was very effective.

After the questioning of the jurors in the jury box, we were given a recess to use the restroom while the attorneys went into the judge's chambers for a few minutes. It was a good thing, because I really needed to use the restroom. Unfortunately, the ladies' room was a single stall and I wound up being third from the last in line.

I waited patiently in line, chatting with the other jury candidates, and was finally walking into the stall when I heard my name called in the hallway, "Elizabeth Durkee."

Confused why I had heard my name, I poked my head back out of the bathroom, "Yes? Do you need me?" I was being called into the judge's chambers (but was permitted to use the facility first. Whew!)

In the judge's chambers, it was explained that one of the jurors had been dismissed and I was next in line to be questioned. Rather than have everyone assemble and listen to me answer the questions, I had been called in to answer them privately. This suited me just fine.

Do you know either of the parties involved in this suit? No.

Do you know anybody who works with the concrete industry? My brother is the Vice President of an excavation firm (I named the firm), but I don't really know anybody. No.

Where do you live? I answered.

In the town or the city? In the town.

Are you married? I am Biblically married but legally divorced. (Hearing this answer, I am pretty sure everyone in the room glanced at the wedding ring on my finger.)

What does your husband do and where does he work? (Please note: The judge did NOT say "ex-" husband! Rather, he validated my Biblical claim to marriage by asking his questions regarding the juror's spouse.) He works as an engineer at Odyssey Technical Solutions in Round Rock, Texas.

How many children do you have? I have two. My son is 25 and works at a jail in Texas. My daughter is 16 and lives with me in my parents' house.

Any grandchildren? Unfortunately not. [The judge smiled broadly.]

What do you do for a living? I am permanently disabled but I also do taxes during tax season and I write.

Would your disability keep you from performing your duties as a juror? No.

Do you personally know or are you related to any attorneys? My cousin on the East Coast is an attorney but I never talk to her.

Then the attoreys asked their questions. The first attorney did not like it that I have problems with my vision because he wanted to use a projector screen for some of his evidence, but the judge asked me some more questions to show that I could do the job. The attorney kept picking for information about my physical limitations, so I laid it right out for him and told him what my disabilities are and why I have them. I also said very flatly that I would love to serve on the jury and had no problems doing so, but it was up to him.

Enough was enough. There was no furthur need to pick apart my disabilities and this attorney had no other real questions. None of the other jurors had been asked any questions about their abilities or lack thereof. At this point, equal opportunity laws were being infringed. The judge cut attorney one off to hand the questioning over to the defendant's attorney.

Have you ever testified in court? Well, I had to testify during my divorce, but I don't know if that really counts.

The judge interjected, "Why were you testifying? Was there some kind of dispute or was it pretty much just about property distribution?"

I squirmed in my chair and squinted my eyes. I did not mean to squirm, or even to squint. It just happened as I tried to figure out how to answer the questions without giving too much detail. Nobody in this room needed to know that my only defense to my husband's "no-fault" divorce was to countersue on the grounds of adultery and cruelty. It was really none of their business and of no import to this case. 

The answer I arrived at was, "Yeah...it was really something."

I was then asked when my testimony took place (September 2008) and the defending attorney was allowed to proceed.

Have you ever been dissatisfied with the service someone provided you? Yes.

And what did you do about it? I intend to report it to the Bar.

The attorney looked unphased, but judge interjected again. His jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised as he asked, "The Bar?"

I nodded. "The Bar."

That was enough for the judge to hear. To even consider complaining to the Bar, especially following the emotional nightmare of a legal divorce I did not morally recognize, I must have been truly and grievously injured. I had no place on an impartial jury. "Does anybody else have any questions?"

The attorneys shook their heads and the judge continued, "Thank you very much, Mrs. Durkee. You can go back to the court room." (Please note his use of Mrs. instead of the Miss he originally used when greeting me.)

Back in the court room, I sat down. Within moments, another juror was called to the judge's chambers. Too bad. This case sounded interesting. It might have been fun to deliberate. I guess I will have to continue making my impact on the world by other means.