Me, The Jury

Well, I just got a Jury Summons. All of you had better turn and spit, not to mention knock on wood, that you’re not next.

My objections aren’t what you think. I believe that we all have an obligation to our community. I try to do my lazy bit as far as that goes. However, jury duty and I have a past.

My first case was a guy with a documented blood alcohol limit just over what’s allowed. He had an expensively-dressed attorney and a batch of pseudo-scientists who ran rigamaroles around the poor first time prosecutor. Justice, apparently, involves sitting in the jury room listening to an attractive 20-something explain that she can have a few drinks before dinner, a bottle of wine with dinner, a few drinks after dinner and still be fine to drive so of course the guy had to be innocent. I naively thought that the law against driving under the influence applied to people who drove with too much alcohol in their blood. Apparently not. She was much prettier than I, so the other jurors believed her. He was not convicted.

The second case was even simpler, if you can imagine. A kid got hit in the face with a baseball bat during P.E. class. The substitute teacher was in another part of the yard. No one contested a single detail. Everyone agreed that the kid was injured in class while the teacher wasn’t looking. The family was suing for medical expenses. Half of the jury were teachers, one or two others worked for the school system. They all voted not to give the kid’s family a penny, not even to cover the emergency room, let alone the subsequent operations and treatment. Apparently any financial award would imply that it was the sub’s fault, or the school’s fault. Three of us voted for the family, at least I wasn’t alone.

So I’ll go. If I am chosen, I’ll serve my week to the best of my ability. But I’m not getting my hopes up for justice. As the saying goes, I’ll just be one of twelve people (plus alternates) who couldn’t get out of it.