The Judicial Branch at its very best

Somehow the word got to Pima County that prospective jurors live at the Howe Home. Sarah got a summons first, then I did and then Babs did! We're waiting with bated breath for Dan's to show up. Sarah did her civic duty last month and Babs got an extension to October so she won't miss work. My clarion call was originally for 20 AUG but got postponed to the 26th (happy birthday Sarah). I seem to get "selected" at least once a year and, to be honest (which I hope I am all the time), I rather enjoy the whole business. Last year I got tagged by the Feds and went to U.S. District Court which is a whole nother ball game than what Pima county throws at you. First of all it was in a completely different building that was much farther from where I usually park. They also must think they're an airport because we had to take off our shoes to get through security. The case I just missed getting on was about a Border Patrol dude who was accused of stealing a bale of wacky weed from a bust down by Nogales. I'm not sure why he wanted a trial because it was all on video from his buddies dash-cam showing him taking the bale from the truck they busted and puting it in the back of his patrol car never to be seen/smelled again. Maybe he was just taking it to his kid's class for show and tell, I don't know. Wait a minute! This is supposed to be about my juriness THIS time.

Since they have torn up my old FREE parking place, I had to park in the Public Works parking garage. I guess it's really not that bad. It's much closer and only cost $2 with a validated ticket from the kindly jury ladies. I find the whole jury selection process quite fascinating. We, the eclectic cross-section of Pima County humanity, all turn in our summons' and get a questionnaire and a spiffy plastic juror badge holder in return. I had a 9:00 report time an got there before 8:30 (shorter walk). Oh, Holy Night! At least half of Pima County was crammed like so many anxious sardinies in the jury "assembly" room. Most of the 7:00, 7:30, 8:00, and 8:30 crowd were still milling around or going to or from various and sundry courtrooms. It was amazing to me how many of these semi-responsible folks straggled in around 9:30 and 10:00! I think there should be some kind of torturous punishment for those slackers. They should have their nose hairs pulled by Vietnamese refugees or have their elbows super-glued to each others' backsides or something. But no, the desk ladies didn't even make them watch the epic "Welcome to Pima County Jury Duty" movie that they had missed. Things cheered up once the bailiffs arrived and the desk ladies started calling off names like numbers at a bingo game. It would be much more fun if they would call them in alphabetical order. At least that way a guy could doze off until they get to the H's. After a few groups left with their shepherd/bailiff, I heard the lady of deskiness call for Ronald Ho. I figured that was close enough and answered "HERE!" It never ceases to amaze me how someone can mis-pronounce HOWE. Especially the way she did. Did her kindergarten teacher read "Ho no brone co" to her? I could deal with "howie" but "Ho?" What does she think I am, some lady of the evening? At any rate, off to the third floor we went with our bailiff, the "girl in the yellow sweater." Fun times for us in the third floor NARROW dimly lit hallway with three, count'em THREE other groups. Each bailiff was calling off names to line us up like holocaust victims going off to the showers. I found myself in the middle of row three bound for Judge Godoy's courtroom. Going into the room was sheer pleasure because it was air-conditioned and much roomier than the hallway. Being in the middle of row three placed me in the row of hard chairs in front of the nice comfy chairs in the jury box. Let the voir dire begin!

Judge Godoy is a cool lady that I will be sure to vote for the next time her name comes up on the judge ballot. She was very nice and had a good sense of humor. The rest of the morning passed with her asking yes or no questions of us like "Do you know any members of the court?" "Do you know any law enforcement officers?" "Are you left handed?" and such like that. That's what voir dire means in case you wondered. I tried to look it up in the dictionary because I didn't know how it was spelled and it was NOT in either of the two dictionaries I looked in. I finally had to call Amy to find out how to get to Wikipedia without losing all the profoundness I had written.

Back to court. If any of us raised our little hand, we could explain the yes answer from our seat or, if we were shy or embarrassed by our answer, we could go up to the judge and meet there with both lawyers and whisper our reason for wanting out of the room. Of note, the judge, bailiff, court clerk, recorder, and BOTH lawyers were all of the females persuasion . Welcome to Amazonia. The defendant was the only guy there. You could cut the estrogen with a knife! But, I digress. The trial was for a young Hispanic male who was accused of DUI on a suspended license and possession of wacky weed along with the paraphernalia for using such vile stuff. By the time we eliminated half of the group and replaced them with members of those not lucky enough to be in the three rows, it was time for lunch. I had neither the motivation nor the money to go someplace for lunch so I got a diet coke and zingers from the vending machines and slaved over work-stuff for the 1.5 hours until I had to go back to third-floor hades.

Now the fun began. Each of us in the comfy and not-so comfy juror seats got to stand up in turn and tell the court a little bit about ourselves. So as to make it "easier" for us there was a list of things (actually more questions) on a big sheet at the front of the room to help us remember our name, where we live, marital status, etc. Every stinking time they have one that wants the number and AGES of my children. Number, not so hard. I can even name all ten. But for crying out loud, AGES? How in the heck am I supposed to keep track of THAT! It's a living, breathing thing that changes depending on the bleeding day of the year! It was even Sarah's birthday that very DAY! What is she 21, 22, 23, 17? I need a cheat sheet. I pretty much bluffed my way through until the last item. "Have you ever served on a jury? What kind? What was the verdict? I think my answer pretty much sealed my fate since the ONLY jury I have served on was for a DUI and we convicted the one-armed S.O.B.!