The first time I was called for jury duty I did what most people do - I got out of it. I plead my case as to what a hardship the intrusion would cause in my work life, and was summarily dismissed. Unlike most people, my plea was rather legitimate - I was self employed, and the $10 a day jury duty pays just wasn't going to pay my bills.

The second time I was summoned, I was no longer self employed, and I saw the prospect of jury duty as a great way to break away from the dull, day-to-day work routine that I found myself in. Never mind that my employer would not pay for any time off that I took as a result of serving jury duty - this time, the $10 a day would have to suffice.

Jury duty lasts for a period of one month, but no one serves for that entire period of time. Jury selection for all the trials for a particular week is made on Monday morning of that week. More often than not, when the accused gets a glimpse of the "jury of his/her peers" packing the courtroom, they decide that perhaps a trial by jury is not in their best interests and a hurried plea bargain among lawyers is reached. This helps to thin the docket considerably.

For any particular session, they try to have a jury pool of 100 people. From this pool, a group of about 25 is randomly selected by pulling names out of a box. The lawyers then meet among themselves and select 12 jurors from among the 25 that were randomly selected. I have no idea what criteria the lawyers use in making their final selections, but for some reason the first time I participated in jury duty my luck in getting selected carried over into courthouse. There ended up only being three trials for the session, and I was the only potential juror that was selected for all three trials.

Apparently I've lost a bit of the old black magic, because in the first week of my current jury duty stint, I wasn't selected for any of the three trials being held that week. I did make the "cut" to the final 25 in the selection for the first trial, but the lawyers making the final juror picks apparently did not feel I fit the "mold" for their jury. I was kind of relieved at this - not because I didn't want to serve, but because it was a sexual abuse trial and although I feel I could make an impartial judgement in such a case, I'd rather not have to bear witness to all the gory details. According to the newspapers, the accused was found guilty after the jury deliberated for all of 35 minutes, so it appears it was a rather cut and dry case. The other cases I failed to be selected for were an assault on a police officer, and indecent exposure case. I haven't seen anything on the outcomes of those trials.

Belfast happens to be the "shiretown" of Waldo county, meaning it is the seat of county government, so my trip to the courthouse consists of a half mile walk downtown. The county reimburses jurors for mileage to and from the courthouse at the rate of 15 cents per mile, so I officially made an extra 15 cents by showing up that day. We happened to be experiencing the butt-end of a blizzard that had rumbled through over the weekend, so my 15 cents was well earned - nothing like a wind-chill of 25 below to wake you up in the morning.

I certainly can't complain too loudly though. Waldo county covers a rather large land area, and those on the outskirts have to travel upwards of 45 miles to get to Belfast. And then there are those on Islesboro, an island about three miles offshore, whose residents are at the mercy of the ferry to make it to the courthouse in time. The bailiff assured those from Islesboro that the judge would try to wrap things up by 4:30 so that they could catch the last ferry back to the island, but he was quick to add that sometimes "justice" doesn't keep the best time and that they would be reimbursed for a hotel room if need be. For the record, we were those who were not selected for the first trial were done with our day in court by 2:30.

The Waldo County Courthouse was built 160 years ago, and it displays the fine, classic workmanship of that time. This is no California courthouse with Formica tables and teak desks like you saw in the OJ Simpson trial. This is a courthouse like you'd see in the movie "Inherit the Wind," with rich walnut wainscoting, elaborately trimmed, 15-foot-high windows, and prim, walnut benches. The most uncomfortable benches I've ever experienced, I might add. They made church pews seem like La-z-boy recliners by comparison. But the heck with practicality, they fit the decor perfectly.

And there are certainly no TV cameras in this courtroom. This is justice carried out the old-fashioned way, by a jury of your peers, behind closed doors. Members of the public and the media are welcome to observe, of course, but few do. There must be reporters in the room because the trials are in the newspapers, but they apparently go out of their way to blend into the scenery.

Although I haven't been picked for any trials yet in this session, I do have a fond recollection of the juries I sat on five years ago. Waldo county is mostly rural in nature, and it's probably fair to say that the average educational level is below that of most areas in the rest of the country. I must admit that I was prepared for what I would consider less than enlightening reasoning from some of the jurors who were bound to be swayed by some lawyer's bull-feces-inspired mumbo jumbo. What I found, instead, was clear, well-reasoned arguments from all the jurors. They were able to extract the facts from the fabrications, and I came away from the experience with the heartfelt opinion that our justice system does, indeed, work as intended. Perhaps the next time a "trial of the century" like the OJ trial comes about, they would do best to have it quietly take place in the Waldo County Courthouse.

Another thing I learned from my previous jury experience was that if you ever get in trouble, you'd better make sure that you chose your lawyer carefully. The differences among lawyers, in demeanor, professionalism, and effectiveness in presenting a case, was startlingly glaring. There are truly some bad lawyers out there - one of which had us shaking our heads wondering why he didn't pursue a particular line of questioning. We thought it was justice that was supposed to be blind, not the lawyers.

Tomorrow, I will once again play the odds game and see if I can come up with a trial this time. At the very least, I know I have a whopping $10.15 to look forward to!

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Copyright ©1999 by Greg Closter (closter@acadia.net)