“Please stand for the jury,” I heard the judge’s deep voice boom and reverberate through the mostly empty courtroom. I followed my fellow potential jurors, wide-eyed and anxious, to the hard, wooden benches the bailiff directed us to.
I’d been so excited to receive my first summons to serve as petit juror. I triple-checked my questionnaire answers before submitting them, and bragged to all of my friends at school that while they were stuck in class, I’d be doing my civic duty by ensuring some soul had a fair trial. The night before the date listed on my juror summons, I’d obsessively checked the juror reporting instructions on the court’s website to make sure that my group number was listed as “scheduled to appear”. I laid out my most professional-looking dress, and packed my purse, careful to leave out any contraband items that were relayed to me via automated phone message each of the four times I’d called.
“Please swear in the jury.”
I snapped back to attention, and raised my right hand before anyone directed me to. I had spent the weekend binge watching old “Law and Order” episodes, so I was pretty sure I knew the motions I was expected to make. I sat when told to, and squirmed a little in the uncomfortable seat. I sneaked a glance at the jury box, where fourteen, cushioned, leather, swivel chairs awaited. I could imagine myself up there, making notes and scrutinizing the witnesses. As the judge droned on about our great duty and responsibility, I was imagining myself being made foreperson, and leading the discussion on why my interpretation of the evidence was the correct one, and ow there was only one possible verdict.
The clerk called the first names to enter the sacred seating area; none of them were mine. I was disappointed, but I knew the voir dire could take hours. I leaned forward, drooling just a tad, listening intently to the questions the chosen ones were asked, and practicing my answers. As several potential jurors were dismissed, and the pool of us in the audience grew smaller and smaller, I knew I would be next. I could feel it! My time was-
“Let it be noted that this is our jury,” the judge intoned. “Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, thank you for your time. You are dismissed.”
I sat there, frozen, until the bailiff tapped my shoulder. “Let’s go, honey,” she said.
“But..but I wasn’t picked!”
“Lucky you,” she said, “now come on. You’ve got to pick up your letter from the assembly room. Remember, you’re now exempt from service for one year.”
On shaking legs, I wobbled out of the courtroom. My hopes had been dashed. All of my bragging had been for nothing. There was no justice for me.
22 February 2018
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