Halfway to Old
Today I’m 35.
I’m celebrating it by working tonight, after a rousing morning of grand jury service!
No worries, though – Elle has some big super secret plans for me tomorrow night, and my Facebook has been a Niagra Falls of birthday wishes, which is awesome. And since I’m working on my birthday, maybe the chef will bring out a round of free desserts for the staff today. A birthday boy can hope.
I comfort myself that I am not falling apart in my old age, no matter how much I sometimes want to say I am. Yesterday, in an unprecedentedly long run, I crossed the George Washington Bridge to Jersey and back. It’s a longer bridge than it looks from the ground, but I made it and today I feel good.
Today’s bloggings, however, bend toward jury duty. It’s my second time called for it since living in New York. They say once you serve on a Grand Jury, you’re exempt from service for eight years rather than the four you get for trial jury service. I’m down with that.
I had no idea Grand Jury service was different than trial jury. Rather than being selected by lawyers to hear and rule on one case, beyond a reasonable doubt, as a grand juror I listen to about half a dozen cases a day, to rule whether or not the person being charged should get a formal indictment and go to a trial. It’s reasonable suspicion instead of reasonable doubt.
There’s lots of legalese, because each District Attorney who visits us has to completely explain every facet of the law that’s allegedly been broken. Everything from property damage to robbery to drug charges. We haven’t heard any violent crime cases yet, but I figure we’re likely to. I serve every day till the middle of October.
The good news is we’re done at one in the afternoon, so I can still work nights. The bad news is I’m there for a month. Also I get to serve on my birthday. We lucked out, though, and got turned loose a bit early today.
Jurors can be a surly lot. There’s some entitlement in the room, in the form of “We’re doing you a favor by being here,” and there’s definitely a stampede for the door as soon as we’re dismissed. There’s a guy who rolls his eyes and makes impatient noises every time a DA starts defining legal terms. It’s been suggested I bring him some cookies to ease his gloomy mood. I’ve taken to simply nicknaming him “Cookies,” which makes me much more forgiving of his crankiness.
Then, there’s people who are taking it very seriously. They’ve seen a lot of courtroom movies, and have dreams of being the one dissenter whose completely valid and correct opinions will sway the entire jury to hear his arguments and change their votes. There’s people who want to talk about each case in detail, and can’t because the next case gets brought in before her opinion is fully voiced.
I’m somewhere in the middle. I’m interested in the process, I don’t resent being there, and I’m learning quite a bit. I hope to make a difference, preferably a positive one. I’m not in a hurry to be a Spencer Tracy style hero. It wouldn’t do me any good anyway, since our proceedings are strictly secret.
If you gotta do jury duty, this is a pretty pain free way to do it.
Wish they’d had cake there, though.
Birthday wishes from Rio!!! I can’t believe I never had jury duty in the 39 years of my americanism
Maybe you’ll luck out and be on a Brasilian jury.
We are taught in law school that a grand jury would indicte a ham sandwich (ie they’ll pretty much indicte anyone)… Your thoughts?
Well, there’s only so much I can say, out of the confidentiality agreement we’re under, but I will say this: you better keep your deli products on a tight leash.