We’ll as you can surmise from the existence of this blog, I got cut from the Jury Duty Team, guys. I know, we all feel the pain right now, but I swear I will work hard everyday so I can better serve when I’m called again in 5-10 years. Sike, I’m getting drunk. It was a fun ride, not, let’s take a look back at Day 2:
Go through the metal detector again, decide I’m in a rebellious mood, and I don’t take my belt off again. The detector goes off, the operator doesn’t even look at me. Really instilling faith in not getting everyone in the courthouse not shot up. Enter the Jury Waiting room: new faces. The county has brought in some ringers! Grab the first available seat, but whats this? My friends from yesterday are across the room waving me over, Chive Guy and 76 year old lady. Feels good to be wanted. Quick jaunt across the room, Guy I Threw Out of the Bar Years Ago still mean mugging. I make sure to laugh extra hard and loud, he’ll hate that.
The jug if water has been changed. Haven’t seen Steve, it’s a lady this time, her name is Jan I later learned. If Jan changed it, Steve is losing all his man points. Not that a woman is incapable or subservient to a man when it comes to changing water jugs. This is a critique of Steve, not women. God. Come on.
76er starts telling me all about the time she got picked for jury duty 20 years ago. You see the Car Max across the way was actually vacant back then, I was on the jury with a man trying to put a supermarket in there, and bless his heart he’d bring us doughnuts and bagels every day. Now I never saw the man after that, but apparently he pulled out of the proposal because they wouldn’t approve the plans for an access road and then as soon as Car Max goes in, by golly, they put in an access road. Can you believe it? My trial lasted 3 days, and heavens to Betsy, if we weren’t here till 11 every night because 2 of the people just wouldn’t change their mind. And my husband was quite sick at the time, he’s since passed, and I told him I don’t think me doing this is best for you, and bless old Horace’s heart (I don’t actually know if that’s his name, but it might be) he said no, you go do this, its for the good of the nation. I’m going to read this book now, will you be okay sonny? Yea, grams, I got this light up telegraph thing that I can literally do anything on, I’ll be fine.
Barstool Sports is blocked on the wifi, guess we’re burning up some data!
Steve is back! Steve explains that literally it has taken all week to narrow it down to 90 possible jurors for this case, only because the courtroom can’t hold any more people. But don’t worry in like the next 20 years Howard County will finally catch up to apparently almost every other county in the state and build a courtroom that can actually function as intended… mind you still not efficiently…
Anyways, take home point is that I’m now 1-90 instead of the 1-35 that I thought I was sitting at a solid 16.6% odds here, all things being equal, obviously they’re not equal, because that’s not how life works, people. But I’m a numbers guy, so we’re going with 16%. Eh, let’s bump it to 17%, some of these people def don’t fit the target demo.
We’re finally shuffled into the court room, again after several hours. Fun bailiff today looks like French Stewart from 3rd Rock From the Sun, only he spent all his earnings from the show on ham. His eyes might be a little more opened. A little. Maybe not. He might actually be asleep.
We’re reminded that we need to keep it down as everything is being recorded. I took this as, hey I’m in the middle of a large group of people, so I just loudly say the word ‘penis’ and so now me saying penis is forever recorded in the Howard County Law Something Filings. So there’s that.
So now they call you up in groups of 3, based on your number, and parade you in front of the lawyers and accused murderers and one by one they say ‘yea, seat that person on the jury,’ or ‘na, fuck off you lucky fucker.’ Side note: I guess they rotate which lawyer gets to say Yay or Nay first, makes sense since they each only get 20 strikes, but the Clerk could not for the life of her remember what the order was. Jesus Christ, lady, act like you’ve been here before.
Because some jurors were already dismissed previosuly obviously some numbers were missing, and I can now tell you I was juror 79, quick math says it’s gonna be a close call for me being taken up to market to be either bought or sold.
Bam. Bam. Bam. 7 jurors selected rather quickly. Only one of them not a white female. And damn do I feel bad for the odd man out. He just a little frumpy black kid in a red polo, must have just turned 18, who in no way thought it would turn out like this. I could literally see the thought go through his head multiple times, “man, growing up sucks!” “worst, summer vacation ever!” as he visibly pouted up there. It’s like asking for a new Pokemon toy on Christmas and your mom being so proud she stood in line and… “Mom! This is a fucking Digimon! They aren’t the same thing! Why don’t you ever listen to me? Worst Christmas ever.”
They fill up the 12 Juror spots by like number 40. Now 76er is getting excited. I turn to her and stone faced just said, “Did you just pump your fist? Don’t you fucking jinx this for us, Edith (I also don’t know if that’s her name, but it could be). I will put you in a home.” I didn’t say the last part, but I for sure called her out. Good thing I did too because, CHANGE UP: Now the lawyers get to look at the “composition” of the jury and realize hey maybe 9 white women, 1 black kid, and 2 old white dudes probably isn’t gonna help your case dude. Anyways now they can swap out some people out for new ones. We’re up to like 60 before they lock in the actual jury. 4 white women, 4 old white dudes, 1 black kid, 1 younger white guy, 1 younger Asian dude, and Ms. Swan from MadTV.
On to the alternates, which is the worst gig ever, because you get all of the responsibility of a juror with none of the power. Which means you know they aren’t paying attention at all through the trial so if they are actually called on, they’re like the kid in class who just eats glue in the back and has been in 3rd grade for 4 years. Chive Guy is 65, two seats left, they let him go, he gives me a thumbs up as he exits the courtroom off into that good night, probably never see him again. Bye Chive Guy. Numbers 67, 68, and 70. Edith is 71. Number 71, shes still 76, but all the color has drained from her face ans she’s looking like she’s white knuckling it to 90 right now. 2 seats to fill. 67, piss off. 68, deuces loser. Edith is having a full on silent conniption at this point. I’m CPR certified, but I hope it doesn’t come to it. Given the defenses’ affinity for white women so far, and the prosecutors deft whittling of them off the jury, I figure she’s dead. Metaphorically.
Judge decides 3 alternates is enough. Have a great day
She turns to me, color back in her wrinkled old face, shakes my hand, says it was a pleasure meeting me, and that she hopes she’s dead before he next summons, I told her, ‘me too, lady.’
Long story short: If you want out of Jury Duty, $85, money down