I don't think they're supposed to have light or fire either
As the jury filed back for the second time, they showed signs of wear and tear. The harassed woman had been crying and was still choking into her handkerchief. The man with the bad cold looked nearly dead. The artist's hair was rumpled into an untidy bush. The company director and the foreman looked as though they would have liked to strangle somebody, and the elderly spinster had her eyes shut and her lips moving as though she were praying.
"Members of the jury, are you agreed upon your verdict?"
"No; we are quite sure that it is impossible for us ever to agree."
"You are quite sure?" said the judge. "I do not wish to hurry you in any way. I am quite prepared to wait here as long as ever you like."
The snarl of the company director was audible even in the gallery. The foreman controlled himself, and replied in a voice ragged with temper and exhaustion.
"We shall never agree, my lord--not if we were to stay here till Doomsday."
--Dorothy L. Sayers, Strong Poison
That was my evening, people! Although they did give us pizza, and it was not a murder trial but a DWI with poorly-prepared attorneys and an insufficiency of evidence. I was the foreperson, simply because I had the lowest number - knew all day that would happen if they gave us a trial, unless someone randomly didn't want a white middle-aged woman with no objectionable associations, and I suppose it's nobody's fault that we didn't get called into the courtroom for selection until nearly 3 pm. We didn't go into deliberations till after 7, and I didn't get home until 10:30, after a 7:30 am start - god, what a tiring day.
To be honest, I could have gone either way with my verdict, but there were those among us on either side who would not have shifted till Doomsday, or at least midnight, and I grew to respect our Miss Climpson (the lone holdout on the absolutely-guilty side). (The demographics were fascinatingly predictable, but that's another legal-sociological study.)
So, that was interesting, but I'm glad I won't be called again for at least three years (and probably fifteen).
This entry was originally posted at http://hedda62.dreamwidth.org/88307.html. There are currently
comments there. Comment here or there.
"Members of the jury, are you agreed upon your verdict?"
"No; we are quite sure that it is impossible for us ever to agree."
"You are quite sure?" said the judge. "I do not wish to hurry you in any way. I am quite prepared to wait here as long as ever you like."
The snarl of the company director was audible even in the gallery. The foreman controlled himself, and replied in a voice ragged with temper and exhaustion.
"We shall never agree, my lord--not if we were to stay here till Doomsday."
--Dorothy L. Sayers, Strong Poison
That was my evening, people! Although they did give us pizza, and it was not a murder trial but a DWI with poorly-prepared attorneys and an insufficiency of evidence. I was the foreperson, simply because I had the lowest number - knew all day that would happen if they gave us a trial, unless someone randomly didn't want a white middle-aged woman with no objectionable associations, and I suppose it's nobody's fault that we didn't get called into the courtroom for selection until nearly 3 pm. We didn't go into deliberations till after 7, and I didn't get home until 10:30, after a 7:30 am start - god, what a tiring day.
To be honest, I could have gone either way with my verdict, but there were those among us on either side who would not have shifted till Doomsday, or at least midnight, and I grew to respect our Miss Climpson (the lone holdout on the absolutely-guilty side). (The demographics were fascinatingly predictable, but that's another legal-sociological study.)
So, that was interesting, but I'm glad I won't be called again for at least three years (and probably fifteen).
This entry was originally posted at http://hedda62.dreamwidth.org/88307.html. There are currently
comments there. Comment here or there.