My Civic Duty

A few weeks ago I was called to perform my civic duty and show up for the jury pool. This was not the first time I had to do jury duty, but the last time was in a different state so I wasn't sure what to expect. I was not, however, looking forward to doing this. I know it is my responsibility as a citizen and I have family members who have benefited from jury trials and blah blah blah, but I had some misgivings (which I will discuss later) and due to factors outside of my control, I am almost a week behind in the classroom. I didn't need to be absent for another week throwing us even further behind on the syllabus.

When I got to the courtroom at 9 am, there was a crowd of people and I had to sit at the front of the room on the platform where the lawyers and judge sit which was okay by me because I could see everything that was happening. After waiting for far longer than I wanted, the judge came in and explained the full procedure to us. Then he called out the disqualifying categories for jurors and proceeded to dismiss half the courtroom! Okay, so you have to be a certain age and you can't be a felon. But then, the categories went on to include: if you are ill, if you are over 65, if you are illiterate, if you have a doctor's letter excusing you (so the first category was for colds?), if jury duty will create a financial hardship, if you take care of someone during the day, if you have to see a man about a dog. . . That last one wasn't really true, but it might as well have been. One man went up to the judge's bench three times! Finally, the judge excused him from duty. Probably in the category of Sheer Perseverance.

I suppose I could have used The Popcorn as an excuse as she does have numerous doctors' appointments that I must take her to in a given month, but I just felt like I would have to lie in some way or stretch the truth and I was just not comfortable doing that. One of my colleagues told me that I teach and that's reason enough, but I don't think they allow you to use that as an excuse anymore.

So, since I, as one character in a courtroom drama said, wasn't smart enough to get out of jury duty, I spent the day sitting in a fairly uncomfortable chair waiting for my group to be called into the courtroom.

I tried to think of this as a positive experience although I did not want to be there. When I did jury duty in another city, it was during the time I was planning for my wedding and I met my reasonably-priced wedding photographer who was also in the pool of potential jurors. This day wasn't quite as fortuitous, but it wasn't a total waste of time because I took care of some things I might not have had I not been there. I had lunch at a popular restaurant downtown that I have been meaning to check out for about 2 years, but never took the time to do; I learned some weight loss tips that may prove beneficial (we'll see); and most importantly, I completed two poems that I am trying to submit for publication and I started on a short story that I think will end up pretty nice. I'm really pleased about those poems. One of them I have been working on for quite a while.

When my number finally came up, we all piled into the court room to be questioned by the judge and the lawyers. I was hoping this would be a civil trial, but it was a criminal case and a murder case, to boot. The same judge from the morning came again with various categories for which we could be excused: can you all see? can you all hear? do you know any of the lawyers, defendant, witnesses, victims? Doggone it if I didn't still qualify! But I was praying to God that I would not be chosen.

As I said before, I had misgivings. The prosecution asked us if we had religious values that would prohibit us from sitting in judgment of anyone. Technically, I don't. I think my faith allows me to serve as a juror, but in my person, I just don't feel comfortable making such a significant decision about some stranger's life. What if I voted "guilty" and I was wrong? This poor man would be sitting in jail for the rest of his life because I made a decision based on viewing a snapshot of his life.

The prosecution also asked us if we could apply the law even if we did not agree with the law. Apparently in this case, although the defendant was being charged with murder, he was not the actual trigger man. He drove the trigger man to the victim's home and according to the prosecution, he was an instigator in the incident. I mean, the law is the law, but I don't think it's right for someone who didn't actually commit the murder to be charged with murder. Yeah, he should be punished, but imprisonment for murder? Unless he put events in motion that would not have otherwise led to the shooting, I just don't see him as culpable to that degree.

And then, as I looked as this poor young man--clean-cut, nicely dressed, fairly attractive (though his status as defendant mitigated his attractiveness for me), I wanted to cry. He could have been one of my students (and I mean that literally as I have had students arrested for murder). What happened in his life that made him go in that direction instead of in the right one? Did he just get caught up by life? I'm telling you, I was fighting back tears. I did not want to be the one to send him to jail.

But, if he was indeed a killer, I didn't want my sentimentality to allow me to put him back on the streets. You see, I did not want that responsibility.

Well, at the end of the day--and it was the end of the day (6:00 and the courthouse was closed; the guard had to unlock the door for us), the Lord was merciful and I was not chosen! And since it was so late, we were able to call in to the system from the courthouse and found out we did not have to return the next day. I almost danced a jig to my car, I was so happy.

I know jury duty is important (as the court officers kept reiterating) and that juries need thoughtful and fair citizens to serve on them, but I am just glad that I didn't have to serve this time.

Quick note: DH looked up the trial results. Apparently the shooting incident was pretty well-known in Biblebelt City--it had it's own media moniker and everything. The selected jurors found the guy guilty. If I had been the lone hold-out, those jurors would have been so mad at me . . . . As one of my friends says, "God is the best knower."

Perplexed

This morning on CNN, I heard Michigan Rep. Pete Hoekstra say that he believes the attack on Fort Hood is a terrorist attack, but not in the vein of Timothy McVeigh's Oklahoma City bombing. I'm perplexed as to why not, but that's not the issue that I want to deal with here.

First, I believe this shooting was horrible and inexcusable and my heart goes out to the families that were touched by it.

Although I know there are more complex factors involved in Nidal Hasan's attack, what I want to address here is the issue of bullying. Reports have stated that Hasan had been harassed by his fellow officers and he'd complained about it prior to the shooting. This man is a grown man and should more effectively deal with harassment, but this situation highlights the problem bullying has become.

It seems to me that victims of bullying are no longer accepting it. They are not having a Revenge of the Nerds reaction in which they come up with a rousing "We are one" speech to win over their enemies. Instead, they are all Carrie. So, I am perplexed as to why (1) people keep bullying others and (2) they are coming up with meaner, yet more sophisticated methods by which to do it (e. g. cyberbullying).

We have got to teach our kids to stop being so mean to others because with these mass shootings, it is not only dangerous to them, it is dangerous to everyone.

I mean, really, what's going on here?

Henry Louis Gates has a Mug Shot?

Still basking in the happy glow of The Diva's welcome baby shower about a week ago, I received a call from our home security company: the alarm had been tripped. My first thought was that it was an accident. That calming thought only lasted a moment, though. I knew what had happened; someone was in our home. Someone unclean and uncouth. Someone who was, at that very moment, rambling through our clothes and knocking over my children's playthings. Someone who was leaving dirty footprints on our carpets, where there were already chocolate milk stains. We were out of town and there was almost nothing we could do. I was horrified and frightened.

Thankfully, the scenario in my head never fully materialized. The criminals must have been scared off by the alarm and the minor security deterrents we had in place. Although they broke a window, scattering glass all over our family room and our children's toys, they didn't actually enter the house and nothing was taken.

When I saw the reports that well-respected scholar Henry Louis Gates had been arrested

in front of his own home, I thought of the stories of men I knew: "mistaken" identity, ill-placed suspicion, overzealous police officers, assumptions of guilt. My husband, for example, delivered pizzas in college and was put in handcuffs repeatedly because he was driving in "suspicious" neighborhoods with "too much" cash. He was also robbed repeatedly, but I'm not sure that anything ever became of that. Gates' work on the African American experience made him a rock star in his field. Reports that he was yelling, "This is what happens to a black man in America!" seem sad and appropriate.

What strikes close to home for me is that there were several police officers at his home, it seems, in response to his "erratic" behavior. I'm wondering if several officers would show up only in response to his break-in. That certainly was not the case for us. One officer showed up--after 30 minutes and repeated phone calls. He called several days later to ask if anything was missing or if we had any information to offer. It wasn't much, but we appreciated the time and attention. Last year, we had another break-in at one in the afternoon while I was upstairs alone. There were at least four dirty criminals who rammed my door open that day, but when I called 911 it still took more than 20 minutes for an officer to show up. We never got a follow up call and there were never any leads. I was so scared, and stayed locked in the guest room upstairs talking to the 911 operator. I saw the stinking criminals burn rubber out of my driveway, but I had no idea if one of them was left downstairs in my house, waiting to beat me to death while the police moved like molasses. I've also had my car broken into twice and--nothing.

I'm not saying that the police should have gone all CSI because my CDs were stolen while my car was on the side of the expressway. But I do really wish that somebody would get excited about the loss of my sense of safety and the money it costs us to fix the damage. I certainly felt like yelling, and I'm sure I would have if I hadn't been so scared (the officer practically laughed at me when I burst into tears); so Gates' reaction to being arrested--I'm sure that's why they wanted him to step outside in the first place--seems right on the money to me.