My third jury duty
This morning I had my third jury duty in Massachusetts since moving here mid 2000. This state has a policy of making its citizens eligible for service once every three years. Since I have been here for almost nine years, I have been selected three times, even once being impaneled on a a car accident case suitable for a low-end sitcom.
This time would be a bit different. At least I didn't have to schlep all the way to Lowell, but to the sunny town of Woburn and their remodeled courthouse smack in the middle of an industrial park. I walked in around 8, as was required to do, and got processed with my number in hand of "121" ready for some jury action.
Now, anyone who's served jury duty in Mass has probably all seen the same introduction video that looks like it was recorded in someone's basement circa 1982. The chief justice giving the opening speech honestly sounds like a female Elmer Fudd, especially when she talks about the "jur-wy" process. In a different context, I could have made a drinking game out of it. Then comes a parade of other judges and a pair of lawyers that look like Night Court extras, especially when the older male lawyer puts his hands on his jacket like he's a gentleman farmer from the Old South. In one scene, you see the two of them approach each other so that you can see them confront each other in front of the bench. Again, in a different context, there would be porn music playing and you'd see some less-than-hot, well, you know.
The trials all started at 10 and the bailiff assured us of a long day because of yesterday's snow storm postponing many trials. So, we sat. And we waited. Then, we waited some more. Imagine being in a giant airport terminal room with all the fun of waiting on a delayed flight, but none of the fun of actually getting anywhere. Finally, shortly after noon, the bailiff gets on the loudspeaker and summons us all back into the giant terminal-like room to let us know that of the four trials in progress that day, two were postponed, one was settled, and one person plead guilty after the court finally located a translator. Given that the three criminal trials were for drugs, rape, and murder, respectively, I breathed a long sigh of relief for not getting sucked into them, though the bailiff did tell us that one of the trails had the defendant defending himself and turning the court into a Judge Judy-like circus, but with him yelling at the judge. Apparently, this guy wanted to call 90 of his fellow inmates (he was already serving a 66 year sentence) as witnesses and so on. On some level, I would have been amused by this spectacle, but not if it had dragged on for weeks. Also, I may have derived some sense of satisfaction sending some rapist (if actually guilty) to jail where he would experience said thing himself, if the universe played along, but I digress.
So, I'm free, FREE again for three more years when I fully expect another jury summons delivered to my door. At least now I have the afternoon off to get back some of the lost sleep for having to wake up at 5:45.
This time would be a bit different. At least I didn't have to schlep all the way to Lowell, but to the sunny town of Woburn and their remodeled courthouse smack in the middle of an industrial park. I walked in around 8, as was required to do, and got processed with my number in hand of "121" ready for some jury action.
Now, anyone who's served jury duty in Mass has probably all seen the same introduction video that looks like it was recorded in someone's basement circa 1982. The chief justice giving the opening speech honestly sounds like a female Elmer Fudd, especially when she talks about the "jur-wy" process. In a different context, I could have made a drinking game out of it. Then comes a parade of other judges and a pair of lawyers that look like Night Court extras, especially when the older male lawyer puts his hands on his jacket like he's a gentleman farmer from the Old South. In one scene, you see the two of them approach each other so that you can see them confront each other in front of the bench. Again, in a different context, there would be porn music playing and you'd see some less-than-hot, well, you know.
The trials all started at 10 and the bailiff assured us of a long day because of yesterday's snow storm postponing many trials. So, we sat. And we waited. Then, we waited some more. Imagine being in a giant airport terminal room with all the fun of waiting on a delayed flight, but none of the fun of actually getting anywhere. Finally, shortly after noon, the bailiff gets on the loudspeaker and summons us all back into the giant terminal-like room to let us know that of the four trials in progress that day, two were postponed, one was settled, and one person plead guilty after the court finally located a translator. Given that the three criminal trials were for drugs, rape, and murder, respectively, I breathed a long sigh of relief for not getting sucked into them, though the bailiff did tell us that one of the trails had the defendant defending himself and turning the court into a Judge Judy-like circus, but with him yelling at the judge. Apparently, this guy wanted to call 90 of his fellow inmates (he was already serving a 66 year sentence) as witnesses and so on. On some level, I would have been amused by this spectacle, but not if it had dragged on for weeks. Also, I may have derived some sense of satisfaction sending some rapist (if actually guilty) to jail where he would experience said thing himself, if the universe played along, but I digress.
So, I'm free, FREE again for three more years when I fully expect another jury summons delivered to my door. At least now I have the afternoon off to get back some of the lost sleep for having to wake up at 5:45.