Making justice possible

"Excuse me, sir, do you know where I go for jury duty?"

I had been walking in circles for half an hour, and now I was late. I nervously reread the jury summons: "Failure to attend courtroom on the day of summons can result in a 1,000 dollar fine and 15 day jail sentence." I mused on the thin line between juror and criminal.

"It's over there!" he yelled, pointing at a mass of indistinct buildings. A lifetime of being asked the same question had jaded this old parking lot attendant. With sorrow, I realized that the most satisfying day of his life might have been the day that he himself had been summoned to serve jury duty. He would have known exactly where to go. This is assuming that he was an American citizen, which was almost certainly not the case.

Thankfully, I spotted a woman clutching a jury summons and looking like she knew where she was going. I followed her to a gray building marked "Santa Ana Courthouse." There was nothing majestic about it, no golden statue of lady justice, or, as I half expected, giant stone tablet of the Ten Commandments. What I did find was a hastily constructed wheelchair ramp, most likely necessitated by an equal-rights lawsuit from within the very courtroom it serviced. Poetic justice.

Turns out that I needn't have worried about being late. Once inside, I discovered a line of jurors snaking through countless hallways. Because the line consisted of randomly selected strangers, it was eerily devoid of small talk. I stood quietly, waiting for a roller-coaster that I knew would suck.

An hour later, I found myself in what looked like a waiting room for the world's largest doctor's office. Hundreds of magazines lay strewn over folding chairs. Televisions positioned throughout the room were all tuned to Judge Judy. I wondered why the American judicial system was advertising the competition.

Once everyone was situated, a small lady addressed the crowd. In a theme that would be made for the rest of the day, she told us that though jury duty is often a thankless task, it is one of the most honorable things a citizen can do for his country. Then she hit us with this announcement: "At 12:30 there will be a lunch break, during which we will provide a shuttle to Sizzler."

Next, a stout bailiff introduced the judge. "Although many of you are probably a bit bored right now," he said, "you may be surprised to learn of some of the unexpected benefits of jury duty. A good friend of mine actually met his future wife while serving on a jury."

The crowd laughed politely, but this anecdote actually made me extremely uncomfortable. In my opinion, falling in love on jury duty while determining the fate of a convicted criminal, was wrong. I especially hoped that the happy couple didn't sentence anyone to death during their courtship, because that would be something that would really haunt a marriage.

After an informational video which tested the limits of poor production values, we jurors were asked if we had any questions.

"Is the shuttle to Sizzler free?"

The room breathed a sigh of relief when the answer was yes.

As soon as the speeches finished, I fell into a deep sleep until noon. When I awoke, I discovered that the clerks had been calling out jurors' names for immediate courtroom assignment all morning. If I had slept through my name, they would have assumed that I had skipped, and I would be looking at time behind bars. I sat glued to my chair, uncertain of how to act, when an announcement came over the PA system.

"Due to organizational problems in two of our courtrooms today, we will be able to release some of our jurors at midday. The following jurors are free to leave immediately ... "

When I heard my name, I actually shouted "Boo-ya!" quite loudly and danced my way out to the door in a spiraling flurry of fist pumps. As I walked to my car, I found a small pamphlet. It was addressed to all the jurors who had served that day. In bold letters it read, "You make justice possible."

Maybe, maybe not. But as I watched a small white shuttle depart for Sizzler without me, I couldn't help but notice the one empty seat and feel disappointed. Tom Knight is an economics major from San Juan Capistrano, California. He can be reached at ttknight@princeton.edu.