Duty and privilege
Posted on Wednesday, September 3, 2008
URL: http://www.nwanews.com/adg/Editorial/236221/
Afriend of mine has lost count of
the number of times she’s been
called for jury duty, but she reckons she’s been seated twice. Me, too, sort of. By that I mean my name was drawn twice for the preliminary, the voir dire. As a result, I got to sit in a real jury box. My friend made it all the way to verdict. I was thanked for my “service” and excused after about 20 minutes. What service ? I drove down to the courthouse and waited for my name to be called. I took a book with me as though I’d been doing this all my life, which in a way I had. Back when you had to be 21 to vote, I celebrated that milestone by hurrying down to the courthouse and registering. Then I waited to be called for jury duty. Not good enough, everybody said when I complained about my spoke never turning up on the jury wheel. You have to be a property owner, they said. So I acquired some property and waited. And waited. For more than 30 years I waited. Blame it on my eighth-grade civics teacher, who portrayed activities such as voting and jury duty not merely as rights or obligations but privileges of citizenship.
When the long-awaited summons finally arrived last spring, I didn’t hesitate. Just the week before, after literally months of surfing the ’Net and comparing prices for a long-awaited trip abroad, I’d given notice at work about when I’d be gone, booked my travel and notified the hotel of my arrival date, but that quickly fell by the wayside. Jury duty ! It was a privilege I had waited most of my life to exercise, and it never occurred to me to try to beg off for the eight days I’d planned to be gone.
But even if it had occurred to me, the “Dear Prospective Juror” form letter from Circuit Judge Chris Piazza would have put that right out of my mind.
“Due to a change in Arkansas Code Ann. 16-31-103,” it stated, “there will be no exemptions for jurors.”
I took this to mean that no frivolous excuses would be accepted because the edict was immediately followed by a caveat. “However,” it said, “if you send a letter from your physician stating that you have health problems that would prevent you from serving, I will consider that as a possible exemption.”
The term of service for this jury was four months. Mine was set to begin a week to the day before my flight. Needless to say, I canceled everything that very evening: the non-refundable ticket, the hotel, the plans to get together with two lifelong friends that had been two years in the making.
If I hadn’t wanted to do it so much, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck with a nonrefundable ticket that will cost $ 200 to reissue plus all the extras that have been added to air travel just since I booked it. You guessed it. Practically the first words out of Piazza’s mouth that first day were that he so appreciated our appearing to serve a summer term of jury duty that, in addition to scheduled surgeries and doctors’ appointments, he’d gladly try to accommodate anyone who’d already made vacation plans. (Now I know why. He took his own vacation during my term, bless his heart. )
On the day I’d been set to board the plane, I was at my desk, having been advised by a tape recording the night before that my presence would not be needed in court that day.
And so it went for most of the four months. Three or four times, the recording said come on down, but I always made it to work before noon.
They’ll never seat you, a lawyer friend said with a knowing smile when I told him of my good fortune, and he was right. They get several dozen prospective jurors into the courtroom, then draw names. Mine was drawn twice. Twice the attorneys in the case said thanks but no thanks. About that recording. As a Wednesday juror, I was supposed to call every Tuesday by 11 a. m., leaving my name at the beep, and I tried, I really tried to remember to do it, even plastering a large reminder on my refrigerator door because it wouldn’t do to be held in contempt of court because I’d had other things on my mind. Most times I remembered. Three times I did not. Once it was almost midnight when I called in, apologizing all over myself to the recording. Happily, contempt charges were not forthcoming, but neither was sitting on a jury. I haven’t had time to reschedule my trip, which I need to take before April if I don’t want to lose the $ 700. Actually, I need to take it before New Year’s just to be on the safe side. Right before my local stint expired, I got another notice—when it rains it pours—this one from the federal courthouse. It advised me that my name may be randomly selected with reporting instructions during the next year. I don’t really expect to be seated anymore, but hope springs eternal. Plus I can ill afford having to cancel another nonrefundable ticket.
—–––––•–––––—Associate Editor Meredith Oakley is editor of the Voices page.