![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Jury Duty, Sexual Assault, and Me
Apr. 16th, 2018 06:53 pmThis morning was Jury Duty Day. I drove to the courthouse and went through the annoying security system that requires you to get half undressed.
A small aside: Michigan courthouses don't allow cell phones on the grounds that it's too easy to use them for unauthorized photography. The last time I went to the courthouse was to change my married name, and I didn't want to stand in a long line at the county clerk's office without my phone. So I went through the security with it in my jacket pocket, though first I had to empty my pants pockets and take off my belt and my shoes. As I knew it would, the phone set off the metal detector and the guard found my phone. He handed it to me and told me I'd have to take it back to my car. I agreed to this, but pointed out I'd have to get re-dressed first. I stepped over to a little table to put myself back together, and in seconds the guard was already distracted by more people crowding to get through the security check station. He forgot all about me. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and sauntered downstairs to the clerk's office to change my name. There!
I considered doing that today, but wasn't sure I could pull the same trick twice. In the end, I left my phone in the car. Since I had my laptop, I'd be able to entertain myself and communicate with the outside world easily enough. When I put my laptop case through the x-ray machine, the guard halted it and asked, "Do you have a cell phone in this case?" I was a little startled. You mean the machine couldn't tell? "Nope," I said, and mentally kicked myself. Next time I'll know--put the cell phone into the computer briefcase.
Anyway, I got to the jury room without further incident.
A crap-ton of people were called in for it duty today because the courts had a lot of trials. I found a study carol, unpacked my computer, booted it up, found the complimentary wi-fi, and was just starting in on a new short story when I was called into a trial. Sigh. I shut down, disconnected, packed up, and went upstairs with 49 other people and a shockingly handsome court clerk. Although it was four flights up to the courtroom, almost no one took the elevator, which I found odd. This is America! Who takes the stairs? I sure didn't, not with my coat, briefcase, and laptop!
Upstairs, a huge mass of us jurors filled the courtroom. Clearly, they were figuring on a lot of dismissals. They selected 13 people--not me--to be the initial jurors, and the voire dire began.
In this case, a man was accused of sexual assault. The trial was expected to last two days, which is court code for "probably a week." The judge read off a looooooooooooong list of admonitions, asked each juror some basic questions, and turned questioning over to the lawyers.
One woman everyone hated. She kept saying, "I have very strong opinions about the subject of this trial and about the evidence in the case." The judge pointed three times that out no evidence had been presented yet and that the defendant was still considered an innocent man. But the woman persevered that she had "strong opinions about the evidence." She used that phrase several times, growing more and more forceful. Everyone in the room was getting pissed at her. Finally, the judge said, "It's clear you shouldn't sit on this case. You can leave." The woman grabbed up her purse and marched out. The judge turned to the room and said that anyone who thought they could make outrageous statements to avoid sitting on this trial had better think again.
And guess who was called up to take her seat? Yep--me.
By now, I already knew I wasn't going to be sitting on this jury, but the court didn't know it yet. Unfortunately, there was only one way to deal with this.
"Have you heard the questions we asked the other jurors?" the judge asked me.
"Yes," I said.
"Are there any of them that would have a bearing on this case for you?"
"Yes."
The judge nodded. "What would that be?"
"I'm twice a survivor of sexual assault."
Brief pause. "Do you think it would be inappropriate for you to sit on the jury for this trial?" the judge asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Then you're dismissed."
As I filed past the other jurors, who were trying not to stare, the judge added, "Thank you for your candor."
I gathered up my things and left. My heart was beating faster than I would have liked.
One interesting fact I learned from the judge, though: Michigan law states that in cases of sexual assault, the victim's testimony is considered evidence strong enough to convict without reasonable doubt. There's no need for DNA evidence, other witnesses, or anything else.
Out in the hall, I pretended I was one of my students on a bathroom pass and wandered around the courthouse to clear my head. When I figured I'd stretched things out as long as I safely could, I went back to the jury room. On the way, I passed two more groups of jurors heading to courtrooms, so I'm glad I didn't hurry.
Back in the jury room, I got my computer out again and went back to work on my short story. Time passed. We unassigned jurors sat around getting hungrier and hungrier. By now it was well past lunch. They had vending machines, but I didn't want to buy something, only to be told a minute later I could go to lunch. Other rejected jurors trickled into the room looking either stunned or relieved, depending.
A small aside: Michigan courthouses don't allow cell phones on the grounds that it's too easy to use them for unauthorized photography. The last time I went to the courthouse was to change my married name, and I didn't want to stand in a long line at the county clerk's office without my phone. So I went through the security with it in my jacket pocket, though first I had to empty my pants pockets and take off my belt and my shoes. As I knew it would, the phone set off the metal detector and the guard found my phone. He handed it to me and told me I'd have to take it back to my car. I agreed to this, but pointed out I'd have to get re-dressed first. I stepped over to a little table to put myself back together, and in seconds the guard was already distracted by more people crowding to get through the security check station. He forgot all about me. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and sauntered downstairs to the clerk's office to change my name. There!
I considered doing that today, but wasn't sure I could pull the same trick twice. In the end, I left my phone in the car. Since I had my laptop, I'd be able to entertain myself and communicate with the outside world easily enough. When I put my laptop case through the x-ray machine, the guard halted it and asked, "Do you have a cell phone in this case?" I was a little startled. You mean the machine couldn't tell? "Nope," I said, and mentally kicked myself. Next time I'll know--put the cell phone into the computer briefcase.
Anyway, I got to the jury room without further incident.
A crap-ton of people were called in for it duty today because the courts had a lot of trials. I found a study carol, unpacked my computer, booted it up, found the complimentary wi-fi, and was just starting in on a new short story when I was called into a trial. Sigh. I shut down, disconnected, packed up, and went upstairs with 49 other people and a shockingly handsome court clerk. Although it was four flights up to the courtroom, almost no one took the elevator, which I found odd. This is America! Who takes the stairs? I sure didn't, not with my coat, briefcase, and laptop!
Upstairs, a huge mass of us jurors filled the courtroom. Clearly, they were figuring on a lot of dismissals. They selected 13 people--not me--to be the initial jurors, and the voire dire began.
In this case, a man was accused of sexual assault. The trial was expected to last two days, which is court code for "probably a week." The judge read off a looooooooooooong list of admonitions, asked each juror some basic questions, and turned questioning over to the lawyers.
One woman everyone hated. She kept saying, "I have very strong opinions about the subject of this trial and about the evidence in the case." The judge pointed three times that out no evidence had been presented yet and that the defendant was still considered an innocent man. But the woman persevered that she had "strong opinions about the evidence." She used that phrase several times, growing more and more forceful. Everyone in the room was getting pissed at her. Finally, the judge said, "It's clear you shouldn't sit on this case. You can leave." The woman grabbed up her purse and marched out. The judge turned to the room and said that anyone who thought they could make outrageous statements to avoid sitting on this trial had better think again.
And guess who was called up to take her seat? Yep--me.
By now, I already knew I wasn't going to be sitting on this jury, but the court didn't know it yet. Unfortunately, there was only one way to deal with this.
"Have you heard the questions we asked the other jurors?" the judge asked me.
"Yes," I said.
"Are there any of them that would have a bearing on this case for you?"
"Yes."
The judge nodded. "What would that be?"
"I'm twice a survivor of sexual assault."
Brief pause. "Do you think it would be inappropriate for you to sit on the jury for this trial?" the judge asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Then you're dismissed."
As I filed past the other jurors, who were trying not to stare, the judge added, "Thank you for your candor."
I gathered up my things and left. My heart was beating faster than I would have liked.
One interesting fact I learned from the judge, though: Michigan law states that in cases of sexual assault, the victim's testimony is considered evidence strong enough to convict without reasonable doubt. There's no need for DNA evidence, other witnesses, or anything else.
Out in the hall, I pretended I was one of my students on a bathroom pass and wandered around the courthouse to clear my head. When I figured I'd stretched things out as long as I safely could, I went back to the jury room. On the way, I passed two more groups of jurors heading to courtrooms, so I'm glad I didn't hurry.
Back in the jury room, I got my computer out again and went back to work on my short story. Time passed. We unassigned jurors sat around getting hungrier and hungrier. By now it was well past lunch. They had vending machines, but I didn't want to buy something, only to be told a minute later I could go to lunch. Other rejected jurors trickled into the room looking either stunned or relieved, depending.
Finally the coordinator announced that they were still waiting on the needs of one particular trial, but a bunch of people could go to lunch right now. She read off a list of names that didn't include me. So I had to wait. They don't tell you much of anything at these things, and those of us who remained were getting grouchier and grouchier. I kept writing.
One more time the coordinator got on the loudspeaker and announced that the trial in question wouldn't be seating a jury today. "That means you can all go home. Your service is complete."
Well, then! I gathered up my collection of electronics and went home. Though I do wonder if the people who were sent to lunch ended up being put on a jury when they got back!
And that concluded my jury service.
