Jury Duty – Trials and tribulations

[Ken Gray]

We just picked up where we left off some fifty years ago. Meeting up with other high school friends at our recent graduation reunion I visited with Tim, one of a few Oak Bay High School friends from 1970-1975. Our conversation ranged from music, to photography, to travel, and in one instance, to Tim’s experience with the law — not as one being judged by the law, but as a member of a jury in a notorious trial. As one who has been summoned for jury but never actually served, I remain curious what jury duty looks and feels like. I have his permission to share his experience below. Enjoy, and thanks Tim.

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[Tim Carver – edited for length by KJG]

[A few years ago] my wife called me at my office to advise I had a rather ominous looking envelope waiting for me from the sheriff’s office. Concerned about some potential trouble with the law I anxiously opened the letter. To my surprise, I had been summoned for jury duty. To my dismay the accompanying letter advised that this was to be a criminal trial lasting approximately five months!

Were they nuts? Asking someone to be away from their job for five  months. I took the dreaded news to the vice president in charge of my department. Surely he would help me avoid this onerous task. On the contrary; he was delighted at the prospect. He said it was an honour to be selected. I said “what about the financial hardship, surely I won’t get paid for all that time off?” He pulled out his copy of the company benefit guide and proudly pointed to Page forty-two, section six. He said, “we pay you for jury duty.”

After much soul searching I finally decided to call the sheriff’s office and plead my case. I said that five months was an unreasonable amount of time to be off work. For good measure I added, “we planned on traveling in the time period.” After a short delay the sheriff said, “OK, I will excuse you, have a nice trip.”

Halloween & Christmas came and went, and jury duty was promptly forgotten. The new year arrived and in late January my wife again called me at my office to advise I had another rather ominous looking envelope waiting for me from the sheriff’s office. D-oh! This time, it was a five-week trial.

Once again I went to my boss and told him the news, and once again he advised this is a great opportunity and I should go for it. I thought, well five weeks is better than five months. On the summons response form I had to declare my profession. Now I wear a few different hats in my office but I chose to declare myself as a “collections officer.” Surely that sounded nasty and the lawyers won’t want me. So I sent in my acknowledgment to the sheriff’s office; besides, what are the odds?

On the date of jury selection I arrived a half-hour early at the courthouse. To my surprise about two hundred people were also waiting for their crack at the jury. I thought to myself, only twelve  jurors and two alternates will be picked from over two hundred. I liked my odds of getting out of my civic duty.

We were required to be at the courthouse at 8:45 am. By 9:00 the place was packed as the last few people drifted in. Two sheriffs confirmed everyone’s presence and put a separate card for each potential juror in a container. A court clerk, in the presence of the judge, subsequently drew out these names as requested. Usually in lots of five.

Potential jurors were called into the courtroom one at a time. Present there were two court clerks, the judge, the prosecutor, the defense council, his assistant, the defendant, and two sheriffs. Also in attendance when I entered were four people already chosen as jurors — four people! After two and a half hours they only had four jurors selected!

Before I entered the courtroom the Sheriff asked if I needed to address the court. I briefly thought about coming up with a lame excuse to tell the judge why I couldn’t sit on the jury but said “No.” I thought, what are the odds anyway, why embarrass myself? Besides, the courtroom was very intimidating with all the wood paneling and red carpet and well armed sheriffs. In hindsight, maybe I should have just wet my pants. Too late, I was immediately directed to the witness box.

This particular case had dragged on for years with several stops and starts for various reasons. As a result, additional measures had been taken by the court to ensure impartiality due to the possible contamination of potential jurors by earlier media coverage. Earlier in the morning two members of the jury pool were randomly selected to act as “triers” to determine partiality or impartiality of each potential juror based on answers given to two questions asked by the judge.

Eventually the judge asked me:

1. “Have you heard of this case in the media?” – “Yes your honour,” I announced. Surely that will get me excused I thought.
2. “Given that you have heard of this case, can you be impartial and base your determination of innocence or guilt based solely on the evidence given to you in this courtroom?” Now I knew all I had to say was I’m not sure, but it came out as “To the best of my knowledge your honour.”

All eyes moved to the two triers. After a few moments of whispering behind their hands the younger of the two stood up and declared me “acceptable.” D-oh!

Once I was deemed to be an impartial jury candidate the prosecutor & the defense had an opportunity to object to my presence. Defense council looked me up and down and asked me to confirm my profession as it was cut off on his jury pool list. I confirmed (in what was supposed to be an ominous voice but came out as more of a school-boy squawk) I was a collections officer. He conferred a moment with his associate and the defendant, and then said “contest.” This was quickly followed by the prosecutor who also said, “contest.” I thought, that’s great, they both object to my presence, I can get out of here and go back to work.

But wait. Now the judge is addressing me and smiling, and announcing they have their fifth juror! What ?? Oh no; the lawyers didn’t say “contest”; they said, “content.” I was on the jury! How did this happen? Wait, I want a redo! Let me answer the question again, I can do better!

Too late, at approximately 11:50 am the judge asked me to take seat number five in the jury box and they were on to the next candidate. Thank heaven; at least the seats were comfortable.

The court case began as scheduled the next day. On that morning the new jurors returned to the courthouse at approximately 9:30 am. We had been told to assemble in a holding room reserved for juries where a sheriff would meet us and take us down to the jury room adjacent to the courtroom. At about 9:45 a sheriff came into the room and introduced himself. He was a friendly looking fellow despite the gun and taser. He would come to be our den mother for the duration of the trial. He took us from the holding room down to the jury room via a back route away from the general public. Once all twelve jurors were in the jury room he would leave, close the door, and stand guard outside.

This jury room was a sanctuary for the twelve of us. The courtroom itself is stuffy and proper, a place where one misspoken word can cause the whole trial to go awry, a place where the jury was expected to be stoic and show no emotion. It’s a place where someone else’s private business is spilled out in public, a place where grieving families sob quietly, reporters take notes, and lawyers argue about protocol and technicalities.

The jury room on the other hand was a place where the “real” world could exist and common sense could speak freely. It provided a place where we, the jury, could vent the frustration that built up in the courtroom, with no fear of retribution from “Mr. Political correctness.”  There is no doubt that the sheriff heard many bouts of frustration or laughter through the door while we waited between court appearances. At one point it was confirmed that our foreman could be heard laughing from another floor of the courthouse. This however, did not take away from the recognition of the seriousness and importance of their roles in the trial, a trial where the defendant was charged with first degree murder. Each and every juror held that focus until the end, many months later!

The five-week trial eventually ended in frustration thirty-seven weeks later in a mistrial due to the delay of presentation of a key defense case.  I had an opportunity to speak with the judge after the trial and she advised that in all her years sitting on the bench she had never seen a trial like this. The judge said she felt bad that we the jury would walk away from this experience with a dim view of the judicial system.

Quite to the contrary, despite personal issues, employment issues, and an incompetent lawyer, I felt quite privileged to have been part of the judicial system.

I believe I was fortunate to have had eleven other people in that jury room who would take their juror oath as seriously as I did, but at the same time could remain grounded in the real world and call a spade a spade when they saw one. Eleven other people (and a sheriff) from all walks of life who I would be happy to call friends. I even found a new bass player for our band! To anyone who is given the opportunity to participate as a juror, I encourage you to embrace what might be a once in a lifetime opportunity.

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