Twelve Angry Men

or, Nine Indifferent Men and Four Apathetic Women.

Yesterday I had Jury Duty. I had high hopes of coming home with an entertaining story for you all. Those hopes were quickly dashed.

The trial was for a DUI. Here's what I found interesting:

1. They called us all into the courtroom and showed us an extremely cheesy video about our civic responsibility, and how no one wants to do jury duty to begin with, but it's really quite interesting, and your boss won't be mad when you take the day off, because that's the law. All this was sappily accompanied by "Simple Gifts" from Aaron Copeland's "Appalachian Spring" (not that I have anything against that arrangement--in fact, I love it. It's just that it seemed a bit over the top for this particular production).

'Tis a gift to be simple,
'Tis a gift to be free,
'Tis a gift to receive a trial by jury.

2. The very nice and honorable judge came in and thanked us all about twelve times for showing up and participating in the judicial process. In fact, he told us from the outset that we were going to hear him thank us several times, because he was just that grateful.

3. The defendant, her counsel, and the prosecution entered with their witnesses. I always thought that the jury would be selected out of sight of the defendant. Not so. The judge proceeded to ask us all questions, like, "Would you be likely to believe a police officer's testimony over that of an ordinary citizen?" If you wanted to answer yes, you had to raise your hand in front of everyone else. No one did. I wasn't bowing to peer pressure or anything--I have a neighbor that's a cop, and he's a complete idiot. I'd take almost anyone's word over his.

4. The aforementioned video spent a lot of time making sure those of us who were not selected did not take things personally. It depicted a jury reject standing on the stairs of the courthouse, alternately hanging his head and looking wistfully back at the doors. After I was eliminated, I didn't really think too much about why. I was too busy dodging hailstones as I ran to my car, and congratulating myself for getting the rest of the afternoon off. Also, they only kept four jurors out of thirteen candidates. The odds were in my favor of getting to leave.

And now I have a couple of hypothetical questions. Let's say I had been arrested for a DUI, and decided to plead "not guilty." Would I, or would I not show up at court with my long, stringy hair washed and combed? Would I wear pants and a hot pink t-shirt? Would my attorney advise me to show up this way? Would I advise my sole witness to show up in a pony tail, flannel shirt, and jeans that had a giant hole in the crotch? I mean, maybe I wouldn't have the money to get my teeth fixed, but at least I would have dressed appropriately, wouldn't I?

I wonder what the verdict was--especially when the four witnesses for the prosecution (including two cops) were clean cut, well dressed, and appeared to be articulate (at least, that's the impression I got when one of them asked me if there was a vending machine near the bathrooms). I think that the counsel for the defense was a mind reader, and that's why I got rejected, because as soon as they read the (multiple) charges and those people filed into the room (along with the arresting police officers), I had made my judgement. So much for impartial.

The funniest thing that happened all day was when I told busboy about having to go to court, and he asked, "What do normal people do when they get called for jury duty?" "Normal" meaning, "Those Who Work for a Living and Do Not Have Unlimited Leisure Time to Spend Sitting Around Performing Public Service." My response: they take the day off, and the State of Utah compensates them. My earnings for two hours of sitting in a courtroom: $18.50. And that's a heck of a lot more than I would have earned if I'd stayed at my regular job. So I didn't get to spend the evening with Henry Fonda, or tear up photos of my kids, or stab a table with a penknife. I still came out ahead.