The Jury is Out on This Writer

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I received a summons for jury duty. To maintain my status as an upstanding citizen, I will report to the courthouse as scheduled rather than try to weasel out of it. That being said, however, I definitely do not want to become a juror on a long, drawn out murder trial. 

When that column appeared, I received many emails, most of which fell into two categories. The first group of emails offered “surefire” advice on how to get out of jury duty. Here are some suggestions: 

• “Tell them you have the ability to know people are guilty just by looking at them. Then start pointing at people in the room (especially lawyers) and shout, ‘He’s guilty! And he’s guilty!’”
  
  
• “Explain that you believe in the death penalty for all criminals – including people who get parking tickets.”
  
  
• “Act really weird.” (But nowadays, who would notice?)
  
  
• “When they start to ask you questions, throw up on somebody.”
  
  
• “Stand up and declare, ‘I confess. I did it!’ This will get you out of jury duty, but you might have to go to prison for a while.” (Well, at least I’ll know when I can go home, which can’t be said about being sequestered during a long trial.)
  
  
• Tell them you WANT to be on the jury, and then say, ‘Because I hear this defendant offers the best bribes!’”

The other group of emails I received expressed excitement that I would be writing about my jury duty adventures. For example:

• “I can’t wait to read your take on the jury selection process. I’m sure it will be hilarious.” (Um, sure. Being holed up in a courthouse for hours or days with a bunch of other people who don’t want to be there is guaranteed to be a laugh riot.)
  
  
• “I’m hoping for a juicy tale or two!” (A couple of juicy lobster tails sounds good, but I’m not sure what this reader expects.)
  
  
• “You must be so excited. All new material to write about — for a change!” (Thanks, I think.)

It is true that I often write about what’s going on in my life, which is a lot easier than doing actual research. But it is not true that I purposely seek out awkward and painful situations just so I can write about them. I admit when something lousy happens, I often roll my eyes and say, “Well, at least I can write about this.” But I’d much rather have nothing to write about than to change a flat tire during rush hour on Rt. 2 in Glastonbury, lose my cell phone in the backseat of a taxi in Chicago, miss a connecting flight and have to sleep on the floor in an airport, or get struck with laryngitis in the middle of giving a presentation. (Whoa! It’s been many years since those events occurred, but I still cringe just thinking about them.)

As I write this, it is the evening before I’m supposed to report to the courthouse. When I go to Hartford Superior Court tomorrow morning, I will bring a notebook with me and jot down my observations. If anything weird happens, I’ll write about it.

But if it looks like I’m going to be a juror on a long, drawn out trial, I’ll play my ace in the hole. I will stand up and declare: “I am a columnist with the most influential newspaper in North America! And I am going to expose every sleazy and corrupt activity that goes on in this den of iniquity!” 

That should get me off the trial. Then I’ll just have to worry about my arraignment for creating a public disturbance. And yes, I will write about that, too.