It's been at least twenty years ago, but I still remember the details of my one and only experience with jury duty.
In those days, the factory where I once worked had an eight hour day schedule. Being called for jury duty was a good thing to those of us on the factory floor, because it meant we were going to be paid factory wages to sit in an air conditioned courthouse waiting room day after day, which beat the hell out of building truck tires.
I would drive into Nashville from my suburban apartment complex, park in the courthouse garage, and stroll over to see if my name would be selected for a jury panel. On most days, the clerk would come into the room where hundreds of potential jurors like myself sat waiting, read a list of the people called for a jury pool, then dismiss the rest of us for the remainder of the day. I would get up, usually within an hour of arrival at the courthouse, and then head back to my apartment to take a cooler of beer to the swimming pool for the day. It was a tough life, especially when I remembered that my buddies were hard at work in the sweatshop making exactly the same amount of money I was being paid to drink beside the pool. Ah, justice...
Then one day during my two week jury duty session the clerk came into the waiting room and called my name along with about twenty others. The rest of my compadres were dismissed for the day, but those of us who were called had to follow the clerk to a courtroom down the hall. That's when it got interesting.
Both attorneys are given a chance to accept or reject any potential juror, usually after asking them a few questions to judge how they might rule in their particular case. According to the state's attorney, this case would involve a man charged with driving under the influence, with the extenuating circumstance of a confirmed case of narcolepsy tossed in for flavoring. I was asked by the Assistant District Attorney if I could tell when a person was drunk by watching or talking to that person. I told him I might be able to determine that a person was impaired, but not necessarily due to excessive drinking. He seemed interested in that response, and asked me to elaborate a bit.
So I told him a person's slurred speech might be caused by any number of things: drugs, a head injury, alien abduction... Okay, I left out the alien abduction part. But he was okay with my answer and accepted me on behalf of the prosecution. The defense attorney didn't bother to ask me anything, just accepted my inclusion on the panel. We were going to trial, and I was officially a jury member. It was sort of exciting.
The details of the case are important to this story, so here they are: a black man in his sixties was accused of leaving his job after work at 7AM, driving to a nearby market where he purchased a 16-ounce can of beer (or several beers, that was in dispute), and played several "numbers" with the market clerk. It was explained to us that "playing the numbers" was an illegal gambling operation, which the accused freely admitted to having done. It was also explained to us that the man in question suffered from a confirmed case of narcolepsy, an illness that can strike at any time without warning, and causes the victim to drop off to sleep regardless of where they are or what they're doing. The state didn't dispute his diagnosis, and no doctor was called to testify.
The arresting officer testified that he pulled up to the market and found the accused slumped over his steering wheel in his parked car, apparently passed out. The officer noticed an open container of beer in the front seat with the sleeping man, and also that there were seven or eight more empty individual cans of beer in paper sacks strewn in the back seat and floorboards of the car.
The officer attempted to wake the sleeping man by tapping on the window with his nightstick, and finally managed to rouse the man. Once out of his car, the accused was unsteady on his feet, smelled of alcohol, had bloodshot eyes, and slurred speech. The officer asked the man to comply with a sobriety test, which the defendant refused to take. He then arrested him under the implied consent law of the state, and charged him with driving under the influence. According to the D.A. you can be charged with DUI even if you are only sitting behind the wheel of a car with keys in the ignition. Who knew?
The defense attorney explained to us that the man had driven to the market, purchased one can of beer, then suffered a narcoleptic seizure behind the wheel of his car, and fell asleep in the market parking lot. When awakened moments later by the officer, he was still suffering from the effects of that seizure, which explained his slurred speech and unsteady balance. According to the officer's report, the man had left work only thirty minutes prior to the incident, after working a twelve hour midnight shift at a local factory.
When they sent us to the jury room to decide the case, the twelve of us (eight men, four women) were told to discuss the case, but to be prepared to take a lunch break in about an hour. So we selected a jury foreman to run the show (one of the four women) and began to "deliberate".
Immediately it became clear that three of the four women were in favor of convicting the guy for drunken driving. One of them was absolutely adamant that he was guilty as charged, looked like a drinker, and that we needed to keep him off the streets before he injured or killed someone. She pointed out that the officer had found seven additional cans of beer in his backseat and floorboards, indicating that he was a problem drinker.
A few of the others made comments about the time frame between when he left work and when he was arrested, and it was pointed out that in thirty minutes it would be difficult for a man to drink that many beers. The 'guilty as charged' lady insisted it could be done, and that he was the kind of person who would binge drink and pass out. A menace to society. She was sure of it. Guilty. Let's vote, go home.
I got a chance to speak and asked if there were any beer drinkers in the room other than myself. A few hands went up. I asked if they had ever gone into a store and purchased seven or eight individual cans of beer, one at a time. The angry woman wanted to know what that had to do with anything, so I explained to her that it's a lot cheaper (and easier) to buy beer in six packs or twelve packs than it is to buy them individually. I also pointed out that if you went into the backseat or floorboard of my own car you'd probably find a can or two in individual paper bags. It's a factory thing. You get off work, you're parched, you stop for a brewski, and you toss it into the back as you roll home. Sometimes you forget to clean out the car for a day or two. Or a week, in this guy's case.
I also told them I thought the guy's eyes were probably red from being up all fucking night working in a factory. Try it, I said, and see if your own eyes aren't a little rosy when you get off work at 7 in the morning.... after eating lunch at midnight. A few heads began to nod around the table. The woman who was ready to hang the guy insisted no one would drink beer at 7AM unless they were a problem drinker, and that she believed the officer's testimony over that of a drunk.
We pointed out that the "drunk" hadn't testified, only his attorney had spoken on his behalf. She saw that as even more evidence of his guilt, since he was afraid to tell his own story.
At about that time a guy came to the room and said we could follow him to another room where our lunch was being served. We had a nice meal, didn't discuss the case while we ate, and sat around until they took us back to our room to continue the deliberations.
Over the next two hours the arguments for and against convicting this guy basically came down to me and "angry bitch". She became more and more agitated, couldn't believe ANYONE would be willing to let this guy off the hook, especially since he had admitted he was at the market to gamble. And gambling is illegal. Guilty. As. Charged. She kept saying it just like that. Emphatic, and final.
We took votes, and it finally came down to eleven of us voting to acquit, and that one woman insisting she would never change her vote: he was guilty.
In one of the rare moments when I think my sense of humor carried the day, I pointed out to everyone in the room that I was being paid about $25 an hour to sit there with them instead of building tires, and that I was loving every minute of it. I sat back, put my hands behind my head, and told the woman in question, "It's fine by me if we come down here every day for the next two weeks and argue about this case. I've got nothing but time."
A couple folks chuckled, a few others nodded their heads, and everyone turned to look at Judge Judy with the noose. That's when she started to shake a little, tears came to her eyes, and she blurted out, "He's guilty as sin! No one made excuses for me when I was charged with a DUI, and by God he's getting one, too!"
There was a moment or two when we all just sat and took in this comment. She was insisting that this guy be tagged with a DUI basically because she'd gotten one, herself. We should all have one, I suppose.
Five minutes later, without another word from yours truly, she relented and agreed to vote "Not Guilty" if that meant we could go home. The jury foreman reminded her she was entitled to her original opinion, and if she wanted to stick with that decision we'd have to understand her point of view and respect it.
But ol' Hang 'Em High was over it. She'd blown her cork, lost her fizz, and all she wanted to do was get the fuck out of that room and never have to see any us again.
We took one final vote, announced our decision to the bailiff, and went back into the courtroom to have the decision read to the court.
And I think justice was served, personally. When I got back to my car I found no empties in the backseat... I was pretty diligent about cleaning up after myself in those days.
I don't think I'd look forward to jury duty today, being self-employed and valuing my time a lot more now than when I was on the company payroll. But I'd go if they called me. It's an interesting look at how the justice system works.
Cheers, little old man, wherever you are!
