I had to go to court on Wednesday. The courts in Massachusetts choose their jurors at random from people who live nearby, and I guess there are plenty of criminals in the Boston area because I’ve been chosen several times. Mostly it’s pretty boring. I go down and wait around for a day and then they tell me to go home because that day’s business was settled outside of court or somebody wasn’t ready. Then they leave me alone for three years or so, after which I have to do it again.
The first time I got invited from the waiting room into the courtroom I was to hear a case about a woman accused of killing her daughter. They said that evidence would include a bullet-riddled door frame removed from her house and that we might even have to go see the house itself. It sounded interesting to me and I looked forward to hearing the stories, for and against. The defense lawyer asked that I be removed from the jury, however. I learned later that he made the request because I looked too long at the defendant while they were making their initial evaluations. Both the prosecutor and defense attorney had options of throwing out two jurors for any reasons they wanted, and off I went.
The second invitation came about three years ago. The case wasn’t nearly as interesting, but I got to be on the jury for the duration of the court trial, about three hours. I felt sorry for the defendant because her unpaid public defender didn’t do much to defend her. She seemed guilty as hell. Unfortunately I didn’t get to sit in on the deliberations because I was the thirteenth juror and none of the first twelve got sick or went home during the case and they didn’t need me in there. I had to wait in somebody’s office while the other twelve decided that they thought she was guilty. We all came back into the courtroom and the jury foreman informed the judge of their decision. Afterwards one of the twelve main jurors asked me what I thought. I said I thought she was guilty and the juror told me she was relieved to know that I agreed.
I went to the same courthouse on Wednesday. I know the routine, and arrived late. They ask us to show up at 8:30 because they really want us there at 9:00. I came at 9:00, the next-to-last person to arrive. We sat around for a while and then a judge came in to tell us how important we are and how we performed an important function just being there and don’t be disappointed if we go home without doing anything. At around 10:30 they let us out for a little break and the bailiff mentioned that we’d find a catering truck parked outside.
I didn’t want to eat a stale egg sandwich from the back of a truck so I walked around and found a little restaurant inside of a neighborhood grocery store. The restaurant, called International Gourmet, had opened nine days earlier. The owner told me that her name is Sandra and she told me what she would be serving for lunch. The food sounded good and I liked Sandra, so I bought a piece of cornbread and promised to come back. The cornbread was delicious. At around noon the bailiff came back and told us that they wouldn’t be needing any jurors today and we could all go home. Somebody else would have to deal with their issues on Thursday. I went straight back to Sandra’s restaurant. Sandra told me about her first week as a restaurant owner. She was excited to say that she’d broken even. I got all excited for her too, until she admitted that she had achieved this by working for free; working really hard.
I liked my lunch so I went home and wrote a favorable review on Yelp.com. I’m sorry I didn’t go back and take a picture of the restaurant when I thought of it, part-way home. But I promised myself that I’d go back soon, with Alla and take a picture to add to my review. And I definitely won’t wait until I’m called back for jury duty to do it.
The first time I got invited from the waiting room into the courtroom I was to hear a case about a woman accused of killing her daughter. They said that evidence would include a bullet-riddled door frame removed from her house and that we might even have to go see the house itself. It sounded interesting to me and I looked forward to hearing the stories, for and against. The defense lawyer asked that I be removed from the jury, however. I learned later that he made the request because I looked too long at the defendant while they were making their initial evaluations. Both the prosecutor and defense attorney had options of throwing out two jurors for any reasons they wanted, and off I went.
The second invitation came about three years ago. The case wasn’t nearly as interesting, but I got to be on the jury for the duration of the court trial, about three hours. I felt sorry for the defendant because her unpaid public defender didn’t do much to defend her. She seemed guilty as hell. Unfortunately I didn’t get to sit in on the deliberations because I was the thirteenth juror and none of the first twelve got sick or went home during the case and they didn’t need me in there. I had to wait in somebody’s office while the other twelve decided that they thought she was guilty. We all came back into the courtroom and the jury foreman informed the judge of their decision. Afterwards one of the twelve main jurors asked me what I thought. I said I thought she was guilty and the juror told me she was relieved to know that I agreed.
I went to the same courthouse on Wednesday. I know the routine, and arrived late. They ask us to show up at 8:30 because they really want us there at 9:00. I came at 9:00, the next-to-last person to arrive. We sat around for a while and then a judge came in to tell us how important we are and how we performed an important function just being there and don’t be disappointed if we go home without doing anything. At around 10:30 they let us out for a little break and the bailiff mentioned that we’d find a catering truck parked outside.
I didn’t want to eat a stale egg sandwich from the back of a truck so I walked around and found a little restaurant inside of a neighborhood grocery store. The restaurant, called International Gourmet, had opened nine days earlier. The owner told me that her name is Sandra and she told me what she would be serving for lunch. The food sounded good and I liked Sandra, so I bought a piece of cornbread and promised to come back. The cornbread was delicious. At around noon the bailiff came back and told us that they wouldn’t be needing any jurors today and we could all go home. Somebody else would have to deal with their issues on Thursday. I went straight back to Sandra’s restaurant. Sandra told me about her first week as a restaurant owner. She was excited to say that she’d broken even. I got all excited for her too, until she admitted that she had achieved this by working for free; working really hard.
I liked my lunch so I went home and wrote a favorable review on Yelp.com. I’m sorry I didn’t go back and take a picture of the restaurant when I thought of it, part-way home. But I promised myself that I’d go back soon, with Alla and take a picture to add to my review. And I definitely won’t wait until I’m called back for jury duty to do it.
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