Today I was juror #0402 in the criminal courts of Davidson County. I had known about today for a while, but as with the months that have fallen off the calendar this year, it snuck up on me. Samantha has been out of town since Sunday afternoon in Chicago, so I put in an extra effort to get up and out the door this morning.
The drive downtown was a lot faster than I suspected, likely because it was 7:20 a.m. when I started (my usual weekday departure time) and I did not have to arrive until 8:30 a.m. I was from Goodlettsville to the parking lot in less than 30 minutes, even missing a turn or two. I pulled into the parking lot, missing the correct entrance only to back up and try again. I was sincerely hoping that this was not going to set the tone for the morning.
I entered the A.A. Birch building through a crowd of people gathered outside. I thought for a moment about the demographics of who all was wandering about. Lawyers, prosecutors, police officers, witnesses, defendants and their families were all huddled in small groups. I walked on by, fumbling about with paperwork to show to whoever wanted to see it. I walked through the metal detectors, forgetting to take off my watch the first time through. I realized how much stuff was in my possession by how full the little red bins had become. I had brought my padfolio mostly to hold my paperwork and as a place to stick my phone in the side. I do not think I can be nearly as critical of how much stuff my wife totes around after seeing that I have my fair share of daily baggage as well.
After stepping through the metal detectors successfully, I stood and examined the lobby of the courthouse. Large screens rolled through the court docket for the day. I knew none of that applied to me; I would simply go where I was told. I started looking around for the appointed jury assembly room. The police officers that stood around the lobby were fairly quick to let you know that they were not Information. I followed two women who were also on jury duty up the elevator, only to again encounter an officer who was most certainly not Information. Back downstairs, I moved my sleeve to check the time.
No watch.
I walked over to the information desk (she was Information) and asked where the security screeners would place property forgotten in the bins. As I turned around, the security guard held up my watch, as if it happens a great deal. Thankful (because my wife could not held responsible for what would have happened if I lost my engagement gift, although it would likely be heard in this very same building), I proceeded on down the hall. My fellow room-seekers had found our meeting place.
The room was filled with a cross-section of society. Young professionals sat next to old retirees. The unemployed (there are quite a few of those these days) mingled with men and women in suits. Black, white, asian and latino all had a shared fate this morning.
When you go for jury duty in Davidson county, they issue you a badge with a barcode. I learn that the barcode is critical in making sure every juror is accounted for wherever they go. I sat down in a seat to wait, fiddling with my iPhone and checking the early doses of work e-mail. As the room began to fill (more than 120 people in all), a middle-aged woman sat next to me. She looked around and asked, "Do they really need this many people to pick 12 jurors?" I told her that we would be part of a pool that would be sent to several cases. "Oh, so you must have done this before?" Having not, I gave the same overview that the jury coordinator would give moments later.
Our coordinator introduced herself as "it is my fault that you all are here today." She then explained that we were selected because we had a driver's license or photo ID issued by the state. "For all of you who have not registered to vote for fear of being selected for jury duty, it did not help out at all. We have forms at our desk if you want to go ahead and register now that you know it will not spare you." A court officer took the first pool of 30 away, while another came ten minutes later to take the second. I was part of the third.
We waited for another 10-15 minutes outside the courtroom before entering and then filed into the audience seats across the room from the bench. The state's assistant district attorney (colloquially referred to as "General") had his back to us, while diagonally across the room sat the defendant and her attorney. After a brief introduction and a swearing in for all of us, 13 were called to sit in the jury box while the rest of us waited. The judge read through the allegations against the defendant, stressing that these were not the facts of the case, merely the charges brought forward by the state. She asked some standard questions about whether the jury would be able to impartially decide the case without preconceived notions. All agreed, and the state's attorney took over.
All of the seated jurors were asked to describe their line of work, how long they had been doing it, if they were married and if they or a family member had previous encounters with the criminal justice system. It was a long process, but then the more prodding questions about details surrounding the case came into play. The defense attorney did the same, only with more specifics related to the case. He was a younger guy, and apparently his youth cost him one trip to a sidebar conversation with the judge and assistant district attorney when he asked a rather leading question of the jury. Having all that behind him, he went back to the lectern with a more carefully worded question.
Three jurors were dismissed by way of notes passed to the judge from the prosecution and the defense, so three more of us were called to the box. The judge asked for a 20 minute break before those jurors were asked the same questions. After the jury was set, the rest of us were dismissed to go back to the assembly room. The coordinator dismissed for lunch from there.
I walked down the Subway on Second Avenue and met up with Chuck, another juror. We talked a bit about the case from which we had just been dismissed. I learned that he was an acupuncture therapist with a gift sales side-business. His inability to make sales calls today was particularly painful, and our $10 stipend would not cover the losses. I had heard similar stories from others in the assembly room. We walked back the jury room only to be dismissed a few minutes later. The docket was covered, and we would no longer be needed. A group ahead of us was called to serve tomorrow morning if the case from which we had been excused reached a conclusion by the end of the day.
I got back to my car, thinking a bit about our criminal justice system. From my perspective, there was nothing wrong or bad about what had transpired today. Sure, I gave up a day of work (my employer still paid me, less the $10 I have to sign over to them). Sure, I had my doubts that the jury in that particular case could be completely fair and impartial. I really wonder if the defendant's representation was up to the task today. But I have no complaints about my time as a prospective juror. I enjoyed the experience as much as most college students enjoy classes -- an inconvenience, but a necessary part of serving a greater good.