Hello, gentle readers. If you didn't read my previous entries on Jury Duty...uh...well, I had it. There! All caught up!
As it turns out, there are several ways of getting out of serving if you are called. I will not include the one that my friend and NO HITTING co-host, Becky Donohue, uses-- "What are you, crazy? Who goes to jury duty? I throw the fucking thing in the garbage, tell 'em I never got it!" That's just a little too overtly anti-establishment for me. I prefer to shirk my duties from within the system. Also I am a chump, evidently.
So, if you are being questioned in a case, here's what you do. The judge will tell you EXACTLY what to say. For instance, in my case they kept asking each juror if they could view cops just like they would anyone else. Here is an actual interaction that occurred:
Judge: "Can you be objective when hearing the testimony of police officers."
A: "Uh...I don't think so."
Judge: "You don't THINK so?"
A: "No...I don't trust cops."
Judge: "And you couldn't put that aside for this trial?"
A: "Ahh, not really, no."
Judge: "Ok...you're dismissed. But...you should WORK on that."
Tough guy, that judge. Tough, but fair.
Now, I could not bring myself to say something like that. And to be honest, I wasn't totally dreading serving. The defense lawyer was hilariously pitiful, and I think I would have found his attempts to get his totally guilty client acquitted to be charming and quaint. However, I was not picked to serve. Why? The reason is simple.
They were afraid of me. They were terrified of my jury powers. I would have taken over that case, and every one in that room knew it. The defendant certainly knew it. Every single time I spoke, he (pardon me) shat explosively. (As a matter of law, the prosecution objected but was overruled. That falls under the protection of the First Amendment, thank you very much.)
Look, I've seen television. I know the score, if I may use the slang of a 20s dancing girl. I know the difference between Murder 1, Murder 2, and Felony Murder. Or at least I THINK I do, and that's close enough for me, baby. I already had several objections. I hadn't voiced them yet, but the time was coming when I was not going to just sit back and let these people run amok through our legal system.
To be honest, it's sad they didn't pick me. For them. I'm sure they could have learned quite a little bit about law, about love, about life. Your loss, Kings County Superior Court. See you in six years!
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2 comments:
Hey Jeff, just coincidentally... I know you'll possibly think.. no such thing.. they knew about your post!! but in my email box this am.. was some funnies from my cousin.. one of which was a photo of a rasta haired young man wearing a t- shirt that looks like a Warner Bros logo but on it are the words.."If ya see tha police, warna brotha!" You could wear that to the initial meeting.. ) Did you lose a few brain cells from singing kareoke on your birthday.. how'd it go?- I wold've love to have dropped in except for the different continent thing..
Thank you, cicibug! My 4th was both safe AND happy!
And Miss Wendy, yes, post-karaoke brain damage. There are pieces of my mind that I may never retrieve. Hopefully, they are the pieces that include me singing "You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth" by Meatloaf. Sorry the whole "time-space continuum" thing kept you away.
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