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Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Jury Duty, part 2

Jury Duty

part 2

By Hal Collier

Howdy,

 

Last week, I wrote about my first day of jury duty.  A short recap is I sat in the assembly room for 7 1/2 hours and then was told to report to Department 108 the following week.  It was going to be a 30 day trial–that’s 6 weeks in real time.  The only excuses were financial hardship (my pension disqualifies me from that), medical impairment or hardship (I think my twitch is back), or caring for small children or an elderly parent.  Now I do take care of grandchildren 1 or 2 days a week, but that’s because I like to spend time with them. 

 

I’m screwed. 

 

I asked for advice from former cops that have experienced getting out of jury duty.  Some of the responses I received were helpful, some would only find me in contempt of court.  A few samples:  Tell the defense that your experience in law enforcement will prejudice you toward the prosecution.  That should work.  Another advises to tell them your dog is pregnant and you don’t know who the father is.  That sounds like a few hours in the holding tank.  I received advice from 3 different states.  My sister, always the positive one, remarked that the jury duty experience would supply me with more stories to share.  I think I would rather exchange stories with RJ about his putting pennies in a bag of water over a door to keep out flies.  Another friend suggested that I denounce my citizenship. He said in his county they are only expected to call in one day.  A former cop had the best answer.  Explain the many reviews that go into a filing and the prosecution of the dirt bag.  In laymen terms that’s means if it goes this far—he is guilty.

 

I spent many nights lying awake, rehearsing my story.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind doing my civic duty, but after 35 years of being a cop I figure I’ve done my share.  6 weeks sitting in a room listening to liberal lawyers trying to confuse a jury is not my idea of retirement.

 

The big day comes, I’m prepared.  I’m nervous, just like before taking an oral interview for promotion.  I have to be in court at 1:30.  I drive downtown early and arrive at 1:00 P.M.  I walk the 1/4 mile down Bunker Hill to get to the court house.  There is a long line to get through the metal detectors.  I get in line and see a Hollywood officer I used to supervise. He is in the short “officer only” line.  Another reminder, I’m GP—general public.  I remove everything from my pockets and step through the metal detector.  I’m advised that I have a handcuff key on my key ring and have to turn it in to the sheriff’s deputy.  Now, I have authority to carry my handgun, a fully loaded 9 mm semi-automatic, but there I am, turning in my hand cuff key.

 

I arrive on the 9th floor which is packed, mostly jurors, like myself. Another metal detector, I’m clean.  I find a seat on the bench and wait.  I see two former Hollywood detectives get off the elevator.  I say “hi” but they ignore me at first.  I forgot, I’m wearing my “Jury” badge.  Again, I’m GP.  No one is supposed to talk to jurors.  They are in a different court room. Damn, I was hoping for a conflict to get excused.  I see a gentlemen walking down the hall, he looks familiar. He looks at me and there is a look of recognition.  I believe I have arrested him some time but can’t place his face.  He enters another court.

 

My court clerk comes out and calls roll.  Only one juror is absent.  I’m amazed, because my group has 58 potential jurors.  After 30 minutes we’re herded into the court room and seated.  I recognize the judge, I think I testified before him just before I retired, maybe another conflict.  The judge explains that the trial will last 6 weeks, possibly ending just before Christmas.  It’s a murder trial, with special circumstances, that means death penalty.  We are then given a 15 page questionnaire and sent back out into the hall.  Each question has sub-questions.  If you answer yes, explain, same for no answers.  They want to know my views on the death penalty, illegal Immigrants, drug dealers, gun ownership, well—you get the picture.  I could do a whole page on “would you give more weight to a police officer’s testimony?”.   I’m worried my pen might run out of ink.  The witness list has more names then the USC football roster.  I recognize a few LAPD officers, maybe another conflict. Okay, I really don’t want to spend 6 weeks hiking up and down Bunker Hill. 

 

We turn in our questionnaires and are ordered back in one week.  Swell, another week of waking up in the middle of the night rehearsing my reasons for being excused.  I’m seriously thinking of using the pregnant dog excuse.  If I’m in lock-up I won’t be on the jury.  I might even be taken off the jury summons mailing list.

 

D-Day I think I’m finally going to get excused, I sail right through both metal detectors, I’m become a pro.  I find a seat in the hall and wait.  I’m listening to jurors from another court case, they’re on day 15—yikes.  I see the two defense attorneys enter the courtroom, they have California Berkeley written all over them.  The court bailiff comes out into the hall and states, “Raise your hand if you’re a juror in Department 108”.  Ok this it, time to give your well prepared excuse.  The deputy states, “The court has successfully picked a jury and you are all excused.”  First there was silence, then some applause, then a dash for the elevators.  I’m guessing they had 2 jury pools, one in the morning and my group in the afternoon.  No complaints.  I’m good for at least a year and then we’ll start all over again. 

 

I’d like to thank everyone who replied with advice.  I’m not going to have to denounce my citizenship, sit in the lock-up with someone who is blowing me kisses, and have my dog checked for a due date. 

 

I can just go back to being GP.

 

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Categories
Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Jury Duty, part 1

Jury Duty, part 1

By Hal Collier

I retired 4 1/2 years ago. I spent my entire 34 years in patrol—you know—the “Backbone of the Department.”  I spent 19 years working “Grave Yard”. That’s the midnight to 8 A.M.  During that span I spent a lot of time in court after working a whole shift.  I couldn’t tell you how many times I finished my shift and spent the next 8 hours in court waiting for the slow wheels of justice to turn.  The early years we were compensated with 3 hours, no matter how many hours we were there. Some days we got out in 10 minutes, but others we were there when the sun went down.  Often we drove home at 6 P.M. and were expected to be back at work in 4 hours.  OK, that was the job and we accepted it.

 

As a police officer we are exempt from “Jury Duty.”  That all changes when you retire.  The chance of a defense attorney wanting a retired police officer on a jury judging his client is very slim.  18 months ago I received my first jury duty summons.  I called in for 5 days and was not asked to report, piece of cake.

 

In October, I received another letter informing me I had jury duty. I called in for three days and was told not to report. Then on Thursday, I was advised to report to Criminal Courts Building. That’s downtown. I spent more time in that building, than with my kids growing up.  Now, the County of Los Angeles treats people selected for jury duty with kid gloves.  Just kidding, they have you park a 1/4 of a mile from the court house, but it’s free.  You sit in a large room, maybe 250 people who were not able to come up with an excuse. I got there early and got a comfortable chair.  You get the orientation, explaining how glad you should be that you can serve.  They try to cheer you up by telling you they pay $15 a day, but only on the 2nd day. 

 

Pause

 

Two hours later, they call 40 names and send them to a court as potential jurors.  Some come back early, I can see why. They have “probable cause stop” written all over them.  For my non-police friends that means they beg to be stopped by the police by their appearance.  The potential jurors are randomly picked by a computer.  Some get picked 2 or 3 times, while I miss the first 4 jury calls.  I figure I’m sitting in a lucky seat.

 

Fast forward to 3 P.M. except it hasn’t been fast.  I’ve been sitting in this room for 7 1/2 hours, the lady behind me has been trying to cough up a lung, the guy in front of me has been snoring for 2 hours and the lady next to me has been on her cell phone for 6 of the 7 1/2 hours.  I’m thinking of asking her for a job because she must be pretty damn important.

 

Pause

 

The calm is broken when the Juror coordinator steps out of her office and says the next jury panel will have special instructions.  The room goes silent, the lady next to me hangs up.  The coordinator says the next jury trial will last about 30 days, that’s court days, 6 weeks plus.  Figure in Thanksgiving, they also close the 3rd Wednesday of every month, budget cuts, including any other excuse that comes up.  If I get picked for this jury, I’ll be eligible for Social Security when the trial is over, that’s if there still is Social Security.

 

The coordinator reads off the valid excuses for not being on a 30 day trial. I just missed the one being pregnant and due within 2 weeks.  I have one of those sinking feelings, you know—the one where you think you forgot to pay your taxes.  Well sure enough, my name is called.  I try to induce labor, nothing.  We are directed to the hall outside for special instructions.  I immediately scan my group, the snoring guy is there, the lady coughing up a lung is there, the lady on the cell phone is missing, that figures.  I’m a dead duck, I’m going to get picked.  I figure a 30 day trial is some high profile trial, maybe murder.  Shame it’s not Polanski. 

 

Pause

 

We are given our instructions and told that we have to call Tuesday night to see if we have to report.  She explains that not all of us will be called to report. She has a smile on her face; I suspect she is trying to save her butt.  She is surrounded by 50 people, some unstable, who have just been told they might have to spend the next 6 weeks deciding if some dirt bag should go free.  She finishes by telling us we get to leave an hour early, nice touch.  We all pile into the elevator to leave, it’s like identifying a loved one at the morgue.  No one’s talking, just a lot of deep sighs. I suspect shock.  I can’t help myself, I proclaim, “What a perfect ending to a nice day”.  I get a nice laugh.  Another says, “Well, I hope we don’t see each again”.  Shit, if I’m on this jury they’ll pick me as Jury Foreman.  When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?

 

We all head out to the 1/4 mile hike back to our cars, this time it’s all uphill.  Did I mention the parking is on top of Bunker Hill?  I’m trying to remember where “Angels Flight” is.  I find my truck in the Disney Parking lot on the first try, not always easy after some of those “28 hour awake” days I mentioned earlier.  I turn the ignition on and my truck will not start.  After 3 tries it starts.  I’m wondering what else can go wrong today, then I remember its 3:30 and I have to drive through China Town to get home.  I pull into my driveway and ask forgiveness for whatever I’ve done to deserve this day. 

 

Pause

 

I was afraid to check the mail, might be an audit notice from the IRS.  The puppy was glad to see me; she didn’t have anyone to play with all day.  I don’t know what to do with her if I have to serve 30 days.   I’m still thinking they won’t want a retired cop on a jury but after today I’m questioning my instincts. 

 

This saga will continue next week.  If you have advice or a like story, I like to hear from you.  I’d like to think I’m not the only smuck. 

 

The above story is true, the opinions are of the author.

 

So how was your day?

 

P.S.  The pauses were where I had to get up because my butt was falling asleep after 7 1/2 hours sitting on it yesterday.  Then again, maybe I should get used to it.