Justice is Still Blind

I just came off a full week of jury duty. I hated it. Not that I’m against having to do jury duty, I just hate what it does to me. If you’ve been called to serve you know it’s mostly about waiting. But I don’t mind waiting. I bring various types of reading matter, and people-watching is always interesting. I don’t mind the process of being chosen for a jury even though the questioning can sometimes be pretty invasive. I’m a good juror and have served six or seven times over my career as a white adult male with a show-me attitude. Whether you agree with the jury system or not it’s the system we have and I guess it creaks along successfully on the principles to which it adheres. Oh, one thing you probably suspected, security to gain access to a courthouse is now akin to what you get at airports these days, which can get pretty damned annoying when you have to deal with long lines and grumpy people, all of whom feel they should get special treatment (including me after I got impaneled as a juror).

But here’s what I hate about jury duty. It shatters my insular existence and exposes me to the underbelly of society. I don’t know any criminals (at least I don’t think I do) but jury duty forces you to realize that scum doesn’t always stay on the bottom of the pool. The stuff you see on Law & Order doesn’t do it justice, either in the Law part or the Order part. I envy how neatly things get wrapped up on television, even when the plot line parallels recent headlines.

You only need to know one horrible fact of the case I was on. The defendant had 16 bullet holes in his body; all of which were exposed to our shocked gaze. I was almost as horrified by the visuals we were subjected to as by the fact the district attorney did not prove her case and we had to let the perp go because the evidence was so sketchy. All 12 jurors had major "reasonable doubt" and we reached our unanimous not-guilty verdict in just under three hours. I know in my gut the guy was guilty but we couldn’t legally decide that based on that part of my ample, but queasy, midsection. Vital information was kept from us; previous history was not revealed; we were basically in the dark about a lot of what actually happened. Did the courts actually think we would somehow glean the truth through something bestowed on cooperative jurors by Gandalf the Magician or some other miraculous source? We had very little to go on and I just wish I could somehow have conjured up my own sword of insight and justice to help us along. But no fiery vision of truth appeared.

What was doubly awful is that by finding the defendant not-guilty it implied that we believed there was some sort of police conspiracy and/or cover-up. This was definitely not intended. The police officers testified clearly and professionally and I didn’t have one doubt about their veracity. There was just no actual proof of anything; it was all hearsay and conjecture.

So that’s two reasons for hating jury duty. 1) Brushing up against the underbelly of our society and 2) being helpless to do anything about it. Oh hell, I guess justice was served but without the outcome hoped for. At least now I have another six years to repair the rip in my insular cocoon and I will not have to face anything more complicated than having to witness bitchy old ladies trying to cheat the cashier at Key Food with expired coupons.