Confessions of a juror, part three: CASE CLOSED

Much to my relief and consternation, we completed deliberations today and I have been officially relieved of jury duty. So, tomorrow, I go back to my "regular", boring, little, unassuming life. I don't know that I have ever been so grateful to get back to work in my life. Since the process of serving on a murder trial has proven to be a wee bit stressful and uncomfortable, the less said, the better. At least for now. Perhaps at some point in the future, I will be able to discuss it, but not for now. I appreciate that the judge spent about an hour discussing the case with us after we delivered the verdict to answer any questions we had, and that we were personally escorted to our cars by several bailiffs, to ensure our safety.

I counted the stairs today while trudging up for the last time to deliver the verdict. Anywhere from 4 to 6 times a day, we dragged our sorry little asses up and down 125 stairs. And, I only hit the M&M's once in six weeks!

Here's hoping I can actually sleep an entire night tonight. It's been a long time coming. As you can see from the photo below, little spot of sunshine has been wringing her hands and contemplating the entire case, bit by bit. Perhaps she'll sleep a little better too, now. Wish I could hold her tight, and reaffirm all that is good in the world, and as it should be. Goodnight, little spot of sunshine. Sleep tight.

Confessions of a juror, part 2

The drama continues. As we approach our fifth week of the trial (6th if you count the jury selection, which I absolutely do count, as does my employer, I'm sure), closing arguments are expected to continue on Monday, and then we, the jury, will be left to our own devices, to deliberate. We have already received 90 minutes of jury instructions from the judge, who was so apologetic about the length of closing arguments on Thursday, he offered us breakfast on Monday. What a good sport!

Since I can't speak at all about the content of the trial, I can only report on the comings and goings of the audience (it might be called the gallery, I'm not sure about that), as well as the continuing battle with the vending machine areas.

So, here goes. As far as the audience or gallery is concerned, I'm thinking it's much like a wedding. You know, friend of the bride sits on one side, friend of the groom sits on the other side. So, based on my very unscientific experience, I'm guessing (remember, this is just a guess) that the individuals sitting on the left side of the courtroom (the judge's right, looking out from his podium, or stage, or whatever it's called) are friends of the prosecution, and to the right, friends of the defendants. Just a guess, though. The audience or gallery changes daily, with a few faithfuls showing up every single day, and taking their seats on their respective "sides".

We've had the media there many days, as well as a few untimely field trips from the local schools. Geez, I'm not sure I would want to bring my middle schoolers to a murder trial. I say untimely because one young, well-behaved school group showed up and very quietly took their seats when one of the witnesses uttered an expletive over and over and over again, during testimony and also during cross examination. Somehow, when little Joey or Susie gets home from school and the parents ask "How was your day?" and 'What did you learn in school today?", I doubt they will be ready for the answer. "Well, I learned that the F word is used extensively in court, by witnesses and attorneys alike". "And they didn't get in trouble, or anything!"

As far as the vending machine areas, I have discovered two, count 'em, two vending areas in the jury assembly area. I did succumb to one bout of M&M madness (peanut variety, no less), but when I tried to surreptitiously eat them in the courtroom, the juror next to me whipped her head around once I started crunching, even though I thought I had let the M&M "relax" in my mouth for an inordinately long period of time, thereby reducing the crunchiness of it. I hadn't even gotten to the peanut yet. This was just the outside part. Nope. Damn. I tried several M&M's, too, hoping that she would get used to the crunch or I would get better at not crunching. Not to be. I eventually had to give up the idea, lest the entire courtroom be privy to my crunching dilemma. I happily crunched my way home, smacking and chewing to my heart's delight.

Other than the one M&M indiscretion, I have remained faithful to my original idea of the occasional diet soda only, and huffing and puffing my way up and down the many flights of stairs.

I was able to get into work one day this week, and the welcome I received was so enthusiastic, kind and heartwarming! I'm looking forward to getting back to my students!

I am having a fair amount of difficulty in patching up that damn hole in my heart, now that my little spot of sunshine is gone. I saw her this morning on Skype, and although the camera on Maeg's computer really sucks, I was thrilled to see them all. They are enjoying their new digs, and meeting up with old friends. Sad for me, good for them.

Confessions of a juror, part one

The trial is on, although I must say, the wheels of justice may be turning, but in a decidedly slow fashion. We completed a whopping 3 hours of testimony this entire week, thanks to a holiday on Monday, a defense attorney getting snowed in back east somewhere and arriving half a day late to court, a furlough day for the state workers, and a serious illness in one of the defense attorney's family; serious enough to take the rest of the short week off to deal with that crisis.

While I could be pondering the bombshell that one of the witnesses delivered earlier this week, I am busy figuring out how I am going to patch the enormous hole in my heart when little Sohna leaves on March 2nd. Yep. Maeg, Krus, and Sohna are moving to Vashon Island, WA, flying out on March 2nd. I can't even accompany them to the airport, because my civic duty to appear on time that day doesn't take into account the real life that happens outside the courtroom.

It's probably better that way. I'm not so terribly fond of so longs and goodbyes. I am really hopeful that somewhere in that little soul of hers, she knows just how loved and treasured she truly is, and how utterly and completely perfect she is, just the way she is.

My new profession: The lucky one

Well, it's official. Much to my surprise, I was picked to serve on a jury. Not just any jury; a long-ass trial that is high profile and expected to last at least a month, maybe longer.

The thing is, I can't talk about it, read about it, or hear about it. With anyone. No one. All I can do is 'think to myself' about it. I picked up the local paper this morning, the Mercury News, as I always do with my early morning cuppa, and bam! There it was. The article that I could NOT read. I did NOT read it, even though it was on the front page of the Local News section! Although I have been known to break some rules, I can't break these particular rules. I calmly flipped through the pages, saw that the article about the trial was continued on another page, put the entire section down, and read the rest of the paper. Honest. I will now be devouring Dear Abby and Miss Manners, and of course, the comics, and the obits (I always check those just to make sure my name isn't in there...so far, so good).

So, y'all don't get all sly on me and think you can slip something into the conversation that I won't realize is your way of discussing the trial without really discussing it. Not an option. The only discussion I can have is what is offered in the vending area of the jury waiting room.

So far, I have only ventured into the vending room once, to purchase a diet soda (mostly wanted it for the caffeine). The only reason I bought a diet soda was because I misplaced my parking stub and spent my entire lunch break looking for the validated parking stub, so I could leave and go get a decent cup of coffee for the afternoon session. Nope. Never did find it. Finally got a replacement parking stub (which involved going down three flights of stairs, only to find out there was no attendant there at that time, so I climbed up three flights of stairs again). At the end of the exhausting day, the darn ticket stub would not work in the machine at the exit, so I ended up holding up the entire parking structure, filled with happy jurors trying to exit, not at all in a hurry to get the hell out of there. Oh, no. They were all very pleased with me, I'm sure. I'll be the juror wearing a bag over her head, so as to enter and exit incognito in the future.

In my search for a caffeinated beverage, I did take a peek at the vending machine that dispenses candy and such. I took a quick glance, looking for M&M's, but, alas, not to be found. Thank goodness. That could get really addictive. I love M& M's. Plain, peanut, I'm not fussy. Any M&M is a good M&M to me. I did spy, out of the corner of my eye, Pay Day candy bars, but I thought about all the chewy stuff in the middle, and decided that would just give me too much fun, picking out all the chewy stuff out of my teeth all afternoon with my tongue, trying not to look obvious about it. So, my goal is to continue climbing all the stairs each day, and not buying anything from the vending machine, except the occasional diet soda, if I really need it.

For all my opinions about just about everything under the sun, I could go my entire life and not weigh in on this one. Really. Because I believe everything happens for a reason, I guess I'll go with the idea that I have a lot to learn about myself and maybe some other people, too. Here's hoping this learning experience will be a valuable one, and allow me to dabble in the black and white of the world, since mine is usually filled with only the gray.

Civic Duty or was that Skivvies Duty?

Being the good driver and registered voter that I am (the two ways in which one gets into the jury pool in the first place, through the DMV and voting records, at least according to the literature provided by the judicial system), I have been fulfilling my civic duty and appearing for jury duty, the entire week. Not just one day. Nope. No call-in each day to inquire as to whether I was to appear in person or just continue whistling while I work. Nope. Every day. From 9:00 a.m. until 4:30 p.m., not counting the driving, the parking, the walking down three flights of stairs, being "wanded" by security, and walking up five flights of stairs, then repeated in reverse, several times a day. At least I am getting a teeny, tiny bit of exercise each day, going up and down so many stairs; plus, I haven't allowed myself one single visit to the "vending" area, which I fear is filled with calorie-laden goodies that are positively deadly and would seem quite appealing after sitting on my duff for hours at a stretch.

This schedule of non-activity is quite unlike my usual up and down activities of walking to greet each student, popping up during our meetings to photocopy important documents that students bring in and providing them with copies of their ed plans, and then escorting them back up to the front waiting area, to greet yet another waiting student. At least that's some type of movement (although it probably wouldn't score very many "activity" points on Weight Watchers; still, it's better than nothing).

Unlike previous stints of jury duty, I have not spent endless hours in the jury waiting area this time around. Instead, I have spent an entire week listening to about 60 of the 100 people they will interview as prospective jurors, with the three attorneys and the judge asking each prospective jurors the same questions over and over and over and over again (although cleverly worded, slightly different each time around. Correction: cleverly is the operative word here. I personally don't think the questions are cleverly worded at all, but I imagine the attorneys probably do).

Although I was selected for jury duty way back in the 70's and served on two criminal cases in the past (one for indecent exposure and lewd acts in a public restroom, which was so racy for the 70's; the other for stealing hair dye from a drug store, and then being roughed up by a security officer), I remember spending a lot of time in the jury waiting area. I also met a lovely woman who would subsequently be a friend for life. She worked at CSULA and I was a student at CSULA. We hit it off immediately. I remember the thrill of eating lunch in downtown L.A. at different, inexpensive restaurants (how in the world could I afford that back then? I can't afford it now; I'm strictly a brown bagger), shopping, strolling around, and just generally being thrilled to be on a jury, and delighted to meet and begin to know such a dear friend.

This time around, it is decidedly different. The case involved is extremely serious and somewhat high profile. I am a much older and hopefully wiser prospective juror, and I have spent a fair amount of time with attorneys, law enforcement personnel, as well as parolees, and as an expert witness on the stand on many occasions.

Which is why I am fairly certain I won't get picked for the final jury and panel of alternates. Not only do I work with individuals that are in the same age group as the defendants, and I have been robbed at gunpoint (which I felt obligated to share, as one of the questions is "Have you ever been a victim of a crime?"), albeit many, many years ago, and my interactions with attorneys, law enforcement, and parolees has been pleasant and rewarding, I'm thinking they just won't pick me. The jury consultants for the prosecution and the defense are busily scratching away, compiling one list after another, furiously red-lining and repositioning their post-its time and time again, as one after another prospective juror is thanked and excused.

So, for now, I am on the jury panel and will return on Monday for another couple of days of jury selection. Since there does not seem to be any rhyme or reason to who they are thanking and excusing, only time will tell.

If, for some strange and bizarre reason, I am actually chosen to sit on this jury, I can expect the trial to last at least a month to a month and a half. Hum. So many "vending" opportunities. So little pocket change.