Summoned

I cleared two weeks for this?

Jury duty.

Is there another two-word phrase in the English language that evokes more immediate dread and anxiety?

My wife and I each got our notices on the same day a few months ago, and she took the route we’ve all traveled many times before, calling in with a good excuse to beg off. I may have been able to do that too, but part of me felt that after years of avoidance, it was time to do my civic duty, no matter how horribly inconvenient it might be.

Besides, I hoped to get a good Substack out of it.

So I got up early on the appointed day and headed out to the Superior Court building in Ventura, CA for an 8 a.m. call time. To orient you: I live in the County of Ventura, a few blocks away from our neighbors in L.A. The courthouse is in the city of Ventura, a couple of miles from the beach. So my 38-mile trek was almost certainly longer than anyone else’s in the jury pool that morning.

But no reason to gripe. It’s a smooth drive heading west at that hour and took me little more than half an hour to get there. Going the same distance in the other direction into the San Fernando Valley would have taken three times as long.

There were 74 of us potential jurors in the assembly room that morning, and we listened to a pleasant county official welcome us and introduce a couple of vital orientation videos. I think one of them may have prohibited us from posting about our experience on social media, but I wasn’t paying complete attention to that part; I was consumed by studying my fellow prospective jurors for signs of guilt or innocence. It’s good to get in some practice before the trial, right?

For instance, the guy two seats from me didn’t even begin to fill out the 21-page, incredibly personal questionnaire we were given. Either he didn’t read and write English or he knew something I didn’t.

I, however, did tackle the questionnaire and got through it in about 45 minutes. I’m not sure which questions I enjoyed answering less — the ones about my comfort level when hearing testimony about sexual abuse, or the ones that required me to recall in detail the murder of a friend many years ago.

This jury selection business was turning out to be less fun than I had hoped.

Next, we were sent upstairs to a courtroom, where we were greeted by the bailiff, who laid out some basic ground rules. Then we all stood as the judge entered and took the bench. He introduced himself, the prosecutor, the defense attorney and the defendant in the case, who bore a resemblance to the guy downstairs who wasn’t filling out the questionnaire. I don’t think it was him, but I can’t be sure.

The judge went into some basic judicial system stuff (presumption of innocence, burden of proof, impartiality, yada yada) and then gave us a brief overview of the case at hand. It indeed dealt with alleged sexual abuse, and of a minor yet. And if it went forward, it was expected to last the better part of a week.

He also told us we would not begin jury selection for six days, during which the attorneys would read our questionnaires and confer about the case. Which meant we had to free up our schedules for practically two weeks without even knowing if we’d be involved.

Accepting this jury summons without a fight was beginning to look less and less like a good idea, but it was too late now. I had promised myself — and the state — that I would do my duty.

So I went home and began canceling appointments for the following 12 days. Business appointments. Doctors appointments. Social engagements. (Well, not many of those, but there was one.) Did I mention doctors appointments?

On Wednesday the 15th I drove in again. This time, we were called for 9 a.m. We had been advised not to worry; the state would reimburse us for one-way mileage. I doubt any of us were planning to move into the building, so I don’t know how they get away with that one-way business, but that’s what they said.

We milled around in the hallway outside the courtroom until about 9:03, at which point the bailiff emerged, apologized for the inconvenience, and sent us all home. The case had been removed from the trial calendar for unspecified reasons, and the jury panel was dismissed.

I’m off the hook for another year. Next time, I may take my wife’s approach.

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Extra credit: What’s the best excuse you’ve come up with to avoid serving on a jury? Or if you’ve gone in, what was your experience like? Answer in Comments.

Extra extra credit: Isn’t it about time you considered becoming a paid subscriber? And no, those two words shouldn’t create more anxiety than “jury duty.” Which would you really rather avoid? Getting called away from your life, job and family to dwell in a bureaucratic morass over an indeterminate period of time, or helping a writer/creator/reporter/friend pay his bills?