Harris County Jury Duty - Panel 13!
A few years ago I was invited to be part of the Harris County Court
system on Congress Avenue in Houston, as a possible juror candidate! I
was obviously (or evidentially) selected for my noticeable integrity,
past evidence of sound judgment and proved logic. I still savor the
spike of adrenaline (accompanied by a metallic taste in my mouth) I
received when I saw the official envelope. Jury duty? Me? Wow! Cool
beans!
"They've evidentially heard of me", I shouted to my bride. "I'm among
the distinguished," I boasted. I picked up the phone and called my
near as the real thing-lawyer brother Bruno. "Well, I've been
summoned," I told him "and I'm going to serve - if they will let me"!
He coughed a bit and begged off saying he was in the middle of
something (much to my chagrin and need for self-important
confirmation), but I know how it is and as I hung up I could hear the
Simpson's playing in the background.
I felt pretty smug driving into Houston that great and event-filled
day and even as I drove up and down close to a hundred different
(maybe) streets, looking for the jury building, the feeling of
superiority only grew stronger. I didn't mind parking 14 blocks from
my destination and cramming a fiver into the money slot of the
unattended parking lot - I was on a mission from God, by golly! I was
a juror candidate and I felt invincible. I just knew the various bums,
hobos, vagabonds and street urchins recognized it too - for I had "the
look".
No one was going to mess with me in this big bayou city and I sallied
forth from the lot to the jury building with a swagger reminiscent of
the old west (or the oil field of Goose Creek and Pelly).
Upon arrival, I was a little bit taken aback by the other characters
who filed into the Juror selection room, but my confidence level was
hitting triple digits by this time and being an extremely patient man,
I hunkered down to await the call to separate myself from this motley
bunch of rabble-rousers. The thought crossed my mind (as I settled
into a chair with my back to the wall) that it was as if a pirate ship
had unloaded in front of the building and if I wasn't a bit of a world
traveler and a past scalawag myself, I might have been a tad alarmed
in this dubious company. Not to worry though, my time here was
fleeting. I was sure of that.
A policeman came in and called us all to attention (I was this close
to saluting, but held off, being a man of control and all). In came
the judge, all "robed-up", as someone correctly observed) and we took
our seats. We were given an official "juror's handbook", which was a
one-page sheet of paper with a lot of "if you do this, we will Taser
you" wording on in and I chortled with a loud snort (which didn't even
get a second look from my neighboring riffraff), because I figured
correctly that the sheeple needed a stern warning. "It's how they
control them", I thought.
The judge, a portly looking lady of maybe 25 years of age and
evidentially a bastion of judicial knowledge, explained in simple
language how honored we all were (what tha?) to have answered the
summons and we would now be reseated in order, according to our
selection number (I have to be honest with you now and say I was a
little perturbed at this new development, but being the solid citizen
that I am, I obediently stood against the wall to await my new place
in the chute).
I bounded into my new temporary seating place with the others of my
group and danged if I didn't notice that the 30 or so of us, weren't
the cream of the crop after all! Well, let me tell you, I was back in
the game! My faith in the system was restored and I looked around and
squirmed like a toddler in a toy aisle. "We must be onto something
important"! "Let's see", I thought, "doctor, lawyer, chemist,
philosopher, professor - she's a NASA astronaut! I'm in sound
company"! The bailiff called us panel thirteen - a highly auspicious
number and I could feel the open admiration of our fellow
pirate-filled panels as they gave us the once over.
"Panel 13 - to your feet"!
(to be continued)
posted by Baytown Bert at 3:25 AM
6 Comments:
Anonymous Anonymous said...
Darn it Bert! When I got to the end I thought "Wait! Where's
the rest?? What happened????"
I can't wait for the next part! It's great! :)
TG
6:41 PM
Anonymous Anonymous said...
Bert's write up in the Sunday Baytown Sun (12-2-07) was right
on.
Looks like he was victimized by some criminal that already
victimized someone else...
TR
6:42 PM
Anonymous Anonymous said...
guess I'll get it when I see the next part
TS
6:42 PM
Anonymous Anonymous said...
leavin' us hangin huh Bert????
SL
6:43 PM
Anonymous Anonymous said...
Bert--loved it--can't wait for pt 2
jury duty can be both fascinating and frustrating--I've done
both the local and the grand jury--the fascinating part is
listening to the attorneys argue--the frustrating part is being
holed up in that tiny little room with the lone dissenter who
just won't budge an inch :(
8:42 PM
Anonymous Anonymous said...
to Baytown Bert: I too sat on a jury and wish I could do it
over. It was a DUI trial. I am a Tee-totaller, I don't drink at
all. The jury was out to hang the guy because he admitted he
had had a couple of drinks and was driving, but was not drunk.
The state didn't make their case. The only evidence they had
led me to believe the guy was not drunk. I was railroaded by 5
other jurors. It was a Friday and getting late. They wanted to
find him guilty. I was the sole one holding out. They pressured
me into going along with them. I wish now I had held out.
Whether he was drunk or not, no one will know, but one thing I
do know, the state did not make their case, and in this country
you are supposed to be innocent until proven guilty beyond all
reasonable doubt. I had more than reasonable doubt.
BroDave2
9:12 PM
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