No matter how many cases a lawyer has tried before, a new trial on Monday morning is just as anxiety-inducing as the very first one. Each case is new: a new client, a new deed, new circumstances, new political climate, a new judge, new opposing counsel, a new pair of pants that may or may not have a stain on the ass. And a new panel of potential jurors.
“Jury Selection,” or “Voir Dire” as it’s haughtily known among lawyers, is a new phenomenon every single time. And it is a phenomenon. People are summoned—required—to show up to the courthouse to answer questions, and ultimately, if they’re supremely unlucky, earn their way into a three-month trial where they must impart judgment on a fellow citizen, sometimes sending that fellow citizen away for a very long time. Perhaps you’ve been so unlucky in the past. This responsibility, coupled with the perks of a free hotel stay, lots of pizza, unlimited but not-on-demand HBO, and no internet access, is not highly coveted. Amendments VI and VII of the Constitution did not contemplate what depriving a person of wi-fi might do to them.
To call it “jury selection” is misleading. It’d be more apt to call it “jury de-selection”, meaning you don’t get “picked” to be a juror so much as you are one of the warm bodies left after the lawyers on both sides have eliminated the jurors they know they absolutely do not want here in the building. The only time I ever “picked” a juror for a case was when I chose not to eliminate a so-called engineer because he smiled and winked at me during jury selection, so I thought he was a fan of mine. Even though I was suspicious of the guy, the wink fooled me, perhaps tickled my ego in just the right way, and I chose not to strike the winking juror from my panel—I kept him around. Coincidentally, the lawyer for the other side let this juror hang around too, which in hindsight was a very smart move on her part. Whether she did it intentionally or not I have no idea. Probably the former. I’m thinking she knew something I did not.
Because this winking juror wasn’t really an engineer at all. He lied on his questionnaire. He became part of the jury that presided over the trial, and because I failed to “de-select” him, he tanked my case. This was one of my first trials, and I learned the hard way that if anyone ever winks at you, let alone a juror, back up slowly, maintain a safe distance, and then, at the first opportunity, run.
Some people like being called to jury duty to become a potential juror, to see if they get “picked” to preside over a case. My winking juror was probably one of these people. If you’re unemployed and have no responsibilities, kids, general interests outside of being summoned to a courthouse for an entire day, jury duty sounds like fun. These are exactly the kind of jurors I fear. Almost everyone else hates jury duty—you know, the people with shit going on in their lives.
It’s one thing as a juror to be curious as to the process of a trial. But if you tell me during jury selection that you actually are glad to be here, enjoy the experience, indeed want to serve on a jury, and wouldn’t mind sequestering yourself for weeks at a time with no access to the outside world, then I need you gone now. We lawyers in the room are now wary of you, have been looking to spot you, and are glad you spoke up, because now we can eliminate you as quickly as you came in.
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