In the midst of three major life transitions—moving, sending
one kid to a new school and your baby to kindergarten—what’s the one thing you
want to do most? Jury duty? Why, yes, of course. Who wants to shuttle children
around and unearth the shower curtain when you could be sitting for hours in a
courtroom?
This was me earlier this week. My summons was actually for
the middle of July, but since we were on vacation that week, I handpicked this
make-up date for myself. I’ve been on a jury before, so I’m no stranger to how
it all works. I always bring my stack of reading material and assume I’ll be in
and out in a couple hours, but it never quite works out that way.
About 350 of us gathered Monday morning at the county
courthouse. By 11:00, 300 were dismissed. The remaining 50 of us were given a
supplemental questionnaire and told to return at 2:00. I knew by the look of
the questionnaire that I did not want to return. The words “sexual assault
against a child” jumped off the page and made me slightly queasy. Still, the
thought of a warrant for my arrest seemed even worse, so I obediently returned
to the courthouse at 2. On my way there, I reminded myself that I am the Lord’s
servant, and anyplace He puts me is where I want to be. Even on this jury.
The questioning, which lasted four hours and continued into
Tuesday, was absolutely fascinating. I’m a studier of people, and the jury box
provides better material than any airport terminal. The first two hours were
light and conversational. We were asked about our jobs, hobbies, reading,
music, and TV preferences. How can it be that in this city, I was the only one
who reads Christian books and listens to Christian music—or at least who admits
it? Country music, romance novels, and moms who love vampires are a lot more common
than I knew.
Then we got into the nitty-gritty questioning. We were told
there were five accusers in this case, all children, who would take the stand
and testify. We talked about whether children were reliable witnesses and
whether it’s even morally sound to put them in that position. We talked about
the presumption of innocence, to which a few potential jurors responded, “He’s
guilty in my book until someone proves him innocent.” (They were promptly
excused at the first opportunity.) We learned more about the legal requirements
of the case and how each count was separate and distinct from the others. In
other words, we would have to consider each child’s testimony independently
from the others, with no testimony bleeding over in our minds.
This is where things took an interesting turn. Person after
person nodded affirmatively that they could do this. All the while I’m thinking
that while that may be the law, it’s a ridiculous expectation. I had decided I
wouldn’t say anything to intentionally get off the jury (like responding
“purple bunny” to every question), but I would give my honest answers and let
the chips fall as they may. I had the benefit of time and was able to think
deeply about my answer. “I discern someone’s character based on their
patterns,” I said. “Lie to me once, and I’ll give you grace. Lie to me
repeatedly, and I’ll know better than to trust you.” Then I stated the
seemingly simple concept that if I deemed the defendant the kind of man who
would hurt one child, it would be hard for me to believe he would not hurt
another. As much as I would want to follow the judge’s instructions to keep the
charges separate, I wasn’t sure on a practical level how I would do that.
It wasn’t a popular statement. The defense lawyer started
scribbling notes and asked who agreed with Ms. Jones. A few people raised their
hands. But the prevailing thought in the room was that compartmentalizing these
charges was as easy as it was essential. This leads me to wonder if I’m more
honest than the average Joe, more aware of my own limitations, or just more
crusty and disagreeable. Regardless, I was on the jury for only three minutes
before the defense “thanked and excused Ms. Jones.”
Not the way I planned to start my week, but a great
opportunity to surrender afresh to God’s plan for my time and realize that
there are a lot of people even in this city who are a whole lot different from
me.
