Courtroom Drama Queen.
After nine stressful days interacting with the San Francisco Superior Court, I have finally been released from jury duty. While this might at first appear rather boring and beauracratic, let me assure you it was nail-biter to the very end.
Though as you very well know I can't reveal any details or names involved with the case, I am pretty sure I can talk about the process without a subpoena arriving at my door.
After three days of checking the courthouse website, I was called to report to 850 Bryant Street on Wednesday morning -- where I found out that I was one of 100 or so potential jurors for a murder trial.
I spent the majority of the next three days watching the judge, prosecutor, and defense attorney grill each juror as if they were a key witness on the stand. Do you understand the difference between "circumstantial" and "direct" evidence? If you knew someone lied once, would you believe them now? How would you feel about seeing autopsy photographs? Have you ever been a victim of a violent crime? Why is it so unseasonably cold in San Francisco this week?
That last question was directed to a meterologist (potential juror #43, I think) that was let go on basis completely unclear to me. Did you know that each lawyer gets 20 "preemptory challenges," i.e. jurors he or she can excuse for no apparent reason? That's 40 (forty!) whole people they can interview and then let go. And they seem to like to use those challenges. Potentials jurors were interviewed and dismissed left and right -- most for no clear reason I could see whatsoever. Then again, I'm not a lawyer.
Anyway, so, this all was really quite stressful. For one, the court clerk reads the names of the next set of people to be interviewed after six jurors are dismissed as if it were death row; it's quite nerve-wracking as you sit and pray to never hear your name spoken aloud again. The thought of all the work I'd be buried under... And my mom was about to arrive for a visit. Have I mentioned my mom is visiting? We went to see "Beach Blanket Babylon" tonight. But I digress.
So after two full days of this, Jess and I decide a letter to the judge is in order. We explain the fact that a two-person team covers the news for our portal 24/7, and beg for dismissal. No such luck. Enter Day Three of Jury Selection.
Is this a really boring story? Because the best part is coming up.
At the very end of the third day of the hard-core selection process, things seems to be winding down. The questioning is getting shorter and less interesting, and jurors are settling into their unfortunate chairs. Then I'm called: Potenial Juror #66. I give my name, neighborhood, marital status, and occupation (MEDIA! JOURNALIST! YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO WANT ME!) I sit and wait. After another 30 mintues or so of process, it looks like the jury is set -- and I'm not on it. At this point I am literally (literally!) the very next person to move into the official jury box. Relief!
Ah but, lest we forget: alternates. You know, these are the people who have to go to court and sit through the entirety of the trial -- but they don't get to deliberate. I don't know, maybe this route is better. No responsibilty. Anyway, there I am, in the very next group of candidates. The lawyers go back into "chambers" and re-enter 10 minutes later to annouce they've decided on 4 alternates. I hear the words "Miss Krieger" and then everything else is a blur. I fall to my knees on the courtroom floor screaming "WHY GOD WHY!" (Or at least I did in my head.)
The judge is about to swear in the jury when all of a sudden, someone raises her hand. It's Juror #12 -- she's distraught. Seems she served on a murder trial jury two years ago and it caused her great emotional distress. This I believe, as sitting nearby in contestants' row I was pretty sure I smelled some sort of morning cocktail.
So what happens next is that #12 is dismissed, and I (me! Alternate #1!) move into the jury box. I'm shaking with fear and wracked with visions of finishing work at 3 a.m. every night for the next 30 days. Then, this miraculous thing happens. The judge changes his mind about something, and consults with the lawyers. He announces that official jury selection process is back in session -- and the lawyers each have 1 more challenge they are allotted. That's when I hear the four words I'd been waiting all my life to hear: "I excuse Miss Krieger."
Thank you, prosecutor.
Anyway, it’s been all very interesting and high-drama, but I am quite happy to be driving down to Sunnyvale again.
After nine stressful days interacting with the San Francisco Superior Court, I have finally been released from jury duty. While this might at first appear rather boring and beauracratic, let me assure you it was nail-biter to the very end.
Though as you very well know I can't reveal any details or names involved with the case, I am pretty sure I can talk about the process without a subpoena arriving at my door.
After three days of checking the courthouse website, I was called to report to 850 Bryant Street on Wednesday morning -- where I found out that I was one of 100 or so potential jurors for a murder trial.
I spent the majority of the next three days watching the judge, prosecutor, and defense attorney grill each juror as if they were a key witness on the stand. Do you understand the difference between "circumstantial" and "direct" evidence? If you knew someone lied once, would you believe them now? How would you feel about seeing autopsy photographs? Have you ever been a victim of a violent crime? Why is it so unseasonably cold in San Francisco this week?
That last question was directed to a meterologist (potential juror #43, I think) that was let go on basis completely unclear to me. Did you know that each lawyer gets 20 "preemptory challenges," i.e. jurors he or she can excuse for no apparent reason? That's 40 (forty!) whole people they can interview and then let go. And they seem to like to use those challenges. Potentials jurors were interviewed and dismissed left and right -- most for no clear reason I could see whatsoever. Then again, I'm not a lawyer.
Anyway, so, this all was really quite stressful. For one, the court clerk reads the names of the next set of people to be interviewed after six jurors are dismissed as if it were death row; it's quite nerve-wracking as you sit and pray to never hear your name spoken aloud again. The thought of all the work I'd be buried under... And my mom was about to arrive for a visit. Have I mentioned my mom is visiting? We went to see "Beach Blanket Babylon" tonight. But I digress.
So after two full days of this, Jess and I decide a letter to the judge is in order. We explain the fact that a two-person team covers the news for our portal 24/7, and beg for dismissal. No such luck. Enter Day Three of Jury Selection.
Is this a really boring story? Because the best part is coming up.
At the very end of the third day of the hard-core selection process, things seems to be winding down. The questioning is getting shorter and less interesting, and jurors are settling into their unfortunate chairs. Then I'm called: Potenial Juror #66. I give my name, neighborhood, marital status, and occupation (MEDIA! JOURNALIST! YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO WANT ME!) I sit and wait. After another 30 mintues or so of process, it looks like the jury is set -- and I'm not on it. At this point I am literally (literally!) the very next person to move into the official jury box. Relief!
Ah but, lest we forget: alternates. You know, these are the people who have to go to court and sit through the entirety of the trial -- but they don't get to deliberate. I don't know, maybe this route is better. No responsibilty. Anyway, there I am, in the very next group of candidates. The lawyers go back into "chambers" and re-enter 10 minutes later to annouce they've decided on 4 alternates. I hear the words "Miss Krieger" and then everything else is a blur. I fall to my knees on the courtroom floor screaming "WHY GOD WHY!" (Or at least I did in my head.)
The judge is about to swear in the jury when all of a sudden, someone raises her hand. It's Juror #12 -- she's distraught. Seems she served on a murder trial jury two years ago and it caused her great emotional distress. This I believe, as sitting nearby in contestants' row I was pretty sure I smelled some sort of morning cocktail.
So what happens next is that #12 is dismissed, and I (me! Alternate #1!) move into the jury box. I'm shaking with fear and wracked with visions of finishing work at 3 a.m. every night for the next 30 days. Then, this miraculous thing happens. The judge changes his mind about something, and consults with the lawyers. He announces that official jury selection process is back in session -- and the lawyers each have 1 more challenge they are allotted. That's when I hear the four words I'd been waiting all my life to hear: "I excuse Miss Krieger."
Thank you, prosecutor.
Anyway, it’s been all very interesting and high-drama, but I am quite happy to be driving down to Sunnyvale again.
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