The instructions said to call after 5 p.m. on the day prior to your report date to see if you would be needed, so I did. The recording announced that juror numbers 1 through 715 would need to report the next day; all others were excused. My number: 496. Awesome. (Side bar: Can I just tell you how many people told me to just not go? Every time someone found out that I had to go to jury duty, they said "I got the summons, but I just didn't go and nothing's happened to me." I'm not sure which would be worse if I just didn't show up: potentially being held in contempt or my mom being mad at me for skipping out. She hates rule breakers.)
I arrived on time, parked my car on the 7th level of the garage, as instructed, and followed the crowd of people who were carrying their summons. Mine was in my purse because I prefer to blend in to my surroundings and not stick out like a sore thumb. Thank heaven for people less superficial than I! Once I was in the courthouse, getting through security was relatively easy. The line was long, but moved quickly and there were no hold ups. Even checking in in the Juror Assembly room was relatively painless, but I already had my eyes peeled for weirdos.
It didn't take long to find someone that was a little off. While standing in line to get checked in, I looked up and saw a man carrying an industrial sized cooler. It was one of those construction worker lunch coolers like this:
My first thought was "Maybe he doesn't expect to be here for long and has to go straight to work." Then I saw the real reason for it. As he got closer to me, his little daughter came into view. She couldn't have been more than 3 years old. My next thought was "Who brings their toddler to jury duty? And what are you going to do with her if you get chosen? Surely she's not permitted to go into the courtroom with you!" I think that child care services may be available at the courthouse for people who are serving, but I'm not positive about that. Regardless, getting a stranger at the courthouse to take care of my child would be the very last option that I would take. Perhaps this was a last resort for him. I don't know.
After receiving instructions (via a better than average video, clearly filmed in and around the Orange County Courthouse) they started picking people. I have to say, the whole process is quite interesting. Basically, a deputy comes down to the assembly room, tells the people working behind the counter how many jurors a judge has requested and they put this number into their computer. They then receive a print out of that number of jurors that have been selected by a sort of lottery system. They read off your juror number and first name and you go to the front of the room. They do one last quick check and then the group gets their instructions from the deputy on what's about to happen. It's quite efficient, I must say.
My next weirdo encounter was when they were calling up the third or fourth group of jurors. I was waiting to hear my number, but it didn't pop up, so I went back to reading my book only to be interrupted by some guy yelling "Whoo hoo! 4 A!" I looked over and saw him practically running to the front of the room as if Johnny from the Price Is Right had just called his juror number and told him to "Come on down!" Once he had everyone's attention, he continued. "I'm excited! It's my first time!" People then began to snicker and I have no doubt that the deputy was thinking "I love a clown."
Unfortunately, his antics didn't end there. After the deputy gave instruction on how they were going to get to the fourth floor (via the elevator, because it would be faster than the escalator and lessens the possibility of losing someone) and asked if anyone had any issues, Bozo chimes in with "I'm afraid of heights." The deputy pretty much denied any sort of special privileges and said something to the effect of "It won't take long to get up there." Making sure to get the last word in, he relents. "I'm just kidding." I was hoping that the deputy was start to cuff him and get him half way out the door before saying "I'm just kidding." No dice.
Shortly after all of that took place, a judge requested 40 jurors. As soon as I heard how large this group was going to be, I knew my number was up. Sure enough, number 496 was on the list. Once we got to twelfth floor, we were greeted by a sherrif and told that we'd be called in shortly. I just happened to look out the window and noticed a sparkling white building with a single spire sitting all by itself on the horizon. I quickly realized that it was the Orlando Temple. I'm not sure that anyone who is unfamiliar with it would question what it was or even notice it. I was happy to see it and recognize it for what it is, though. Something else, that I'd never seen before, caught my eye. It was a huge cross. I have no idea where it's located in this city or who it belongs to. Perhaps some other juror recognized it and was pleasantly surprised by it, just as I was by the temple.
We finally got in the courtroom and the judge started giving us instructions and asking questions. It was funny to hear some of the reasons that people thought they wouldn't be able to serve on the jury, if chosen. It was even funnier when the judge, in a really nice way, let them know that their excuses weren't valid enough for him and they weren't going anywhere. The only reasonable excuse that I heard was in response to why someone would be unable to hear the case and make a decision based solely on what the attorneys had presented. It was a sexual assault case, on a child under 12, and one juror said that she'd been sexually abused as a child and it would far too difficult for her to have to hear it. This was the only instance that the judge seemed to make any sort of allowance for, but she still had to wait with everyone else for the selection process.
Hearing the charges read aloud, with the defendant sitting less than 15 feet directly in front of me, was weird. I didn't feel unsafe in any way, but hearing how graphic the description of the charges were, it made me uncomfortable. I think something would be terribly wrong if someone didn't feel uncomfortable hearing that type of thing. Interestingly enough, the guy didn't look like some hardened criminal, as one might expect. He looked terrified, and rightly so, to be sitting there in front of 40 people who would potentially be deciding the fate of the rest of his life. I almost felt badly for him when a lady behind me (who had a response to EVERY question that the judge asked - you know the type) said that she didn't think she could hear the case because just hearing the charges being read made her extremely uncomfortable and she thought that it was just disgusting that someone could do something like that. I felt badly, not because I thought what he did was in any way acceptable, but because he probably already knew this (at least I hope he did) and had to listen to someone telling him how disgusting his actions were and how dispicable she thought he was. Had he looked like he enjoyed doing what he allegedly did or like he was being inconvenienced by having to be there, I may have felt differently.
As luck would have it, we were released for lunch and when we came back, the defendant had decided to accept the plea deal that the state had offered him. It turns out that the family of the victim decided that they didn't want the girl to have to testify and open up this old wound that she'd been working so hard to heal. I'm not sure how old she is now, but she was under 12 when the incidents supposedly happened. She was there and I did see her and she didn't even look old enough to drive. It was really quite sad. Hopefully they can all get the help that they need to get through this horrific situation. The judge even mentioned that he's much better off with the deal that he took because, had he stood trial and been found guilty, he likely would've spent the rest of his life in jail. He's only 23.
For the most part, the whole experience wasn't as awful as I thought it could have been. I was certainly glad that I wasn't chosen and that I didn't have to listen to all the gory details of the case that the state was trying to prove. I'm still trying to forget the language used to descibe the charges. The Boyfriend was disturbed by what I told him and I said it as nicely as I possibly could. (Too bad I wasn't able to snap a picture of that face with the webcam!) If I happen to get summoned again, I won't be as opposed to going as I was this time. I mean, I'm an pro now!
And perhaps it was nice to be driving home at 1:30 in the afternoon, instead of being chained to my desk...
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