Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Voir Drear

I just spent a mind (and butt) numbing day (from 7:45 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.) trapped in a courtroom in Superior Court in and for the County of Mercer in the State of New Jersey.

They were trying to find 14 people who would be available for the next couple of weeks to hear some case about some guy who got nabbed with a ton of drug paraphenalia and crack/cocaine in Princeton, of all places for God's Sake (is nothing sacred?)

They blew through over 60 prospective jurors before they hit the jackpot. I was 1 of 15 remaining jurors in the pool. The pool kept dwindling because people either a) knew somebody whose sister once dated a guy whose mother was shacking up with some skeevy bastard who ran a crank lab down in the Pine Barrens or b) their stepbrother's fiance is a cousin to somebody who is a corrections officer in North Dakota or c) they're leaving on a month long vacation to Norway tomorrow night.

Had I actually been called to the bench to begin the process of voir dire ("speak the truth") my ace in the hole for weasling out of it was that I'm in recovery. Defense attorneys are notorious for NOT wanting people in recovery on the trial jury for their drug-dealer clients. They suspect, and rightly so, that we'll hang their asses.

As excruciating as this process is, for everybody, it is our best hope for obtaining at least a fairly impartial jury for our trials. I mean, I'd want a jury composed of people like me, wouldn't you?

Anyway, the good news is that I am now relieved of jury duty for at least a couple of years (except for Grand Jury).

I intend to treat myself by taking tomorrow off.

Except for my appointment with my Urologist at 5:45 p.m. tomorrow night.

Hmmmm, come to think of it, maybe jury duty wasn't such a bad thing after all.

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