Jury Duty? Where's the Justice in That?
by Karen Williams | May 24, 2007 - Seminole Chronicle
Jury duty is in drastic need of a makeover. Surely someone can create a public relations campaign to make this civic obligation more enticing.
My feller, Mark, recently received a jury summons. Not a polite invitation. Not a "We know you're really busy but ..." Not even a lousy happy face sticker on the envelope. It was the usual, "You WILL come to court or you WILL get in trouble." Why don't they save that for the accused criminals who are being tried? I bet they at least get a sticker on their summons, even if it shows a happy face behind bars.
There are no door prizes, no gift certificates, no accolades given to those who serve on a jury. No public service announcements on TV tell of the heartwarming experiences people had by discharging their public duty. In a jury pamphlet that Mark received, the message was basically "Dress up. Show up. Shut up." A person isn't even allowed to gossip about the case they're involved with - for some of us, the most painful stipulation of all.
Many years ago in Oregon, I was summoned for jury duty. It so happened that I was sick as a dog who has eaten bad peanut butter laced with contaminated spinach, for I'd come down with an extreme bout of morning sickness.
Nevertheless, I dragged myself to the courthouse to avoid being thrown into a dungeon for people who don't take their civic duty seriously, sentenced to memorize the Constitution and write it out longhand in 10 languages. Feeling green around the gills, I fully expected the bailiff, when seating us jurors, to ask me, "Puking or non-puking?"
Somehow I made it through three hearings, thanks to the fear of that dungeon and the ginger ale I guzzled during breaks.
Our final case involved a man who insisted he had received a too-small settlement from a too-large insurance company, and he demanded further restitution. I took copious notes during the proceedings to keep my mind off my queasy stomach.
I assumed we would thoroughly review the case before deciding if and how much the plaintiff should be awarded. Instead, the sentiment of my fellow jurors, led by a snarling man I'll call Mr. Power-to-the-People, held that this was one of many cases of fat-cat business vs. skinny mouse customer, and we should simply make the insurance company pay through its pink nose.
With trepidation, I mentioned some facts of the case listed in my notes. It helped reduce the award from gargantuan to merely huge, but there was no impetus to deliberate further. It was 4 p.m. on a Friday, and people wanted to head home and watch on TV news how we'd held the insurance company's pudgy paws to the fire.
Since then, I've wondered if the jury system should be overhauled. People with interest in jurisprudence and a bent toward objectivity could train to become professional jurors. They would be well-compensated for their time and would conform to high standards. The notion of the citizen juror would become as outmoded as judges in funny wigs or Raymond Burr as Ironside doing wheelies after winning a case.
Meanwhile, Mark is hauling out his dress clothes and pondering how he'll spend his $40 per day jury stipend.
Hopefully justice will prevail, but if it can't prevail, maybe it can gulp down some ginger ale and just try to show up.
Copyright 2007, Karen Williams
