Outrageous Thoughts of Babble
by Peter Knight
August 31, 1998 – His name slipped my mind for the moment. He was indicted for possession of a nine-millimeter handgun. He wore a bright white shirt, new slacks, and an expensive tie, and probably similar to my age. I have never met him before, but yet, sat across the courtroom from him with the possibility of becoming one of the jurors of this oncoming trial. My chair, made of hardened leather, sat a little too high for me, as my legs slightly dangled off the front. My entire body sloped down from time to time while sitting here. The other juror candidates seemed much more comfortable than I was. They all were at least twenty years my senior and very set in their ways, and kept their directed attentions toward the judge and listened. My mind wandered. I would gaze over to the defendant once in a while, just to see what a suspected felon looked like; emotionless. I wondered if he felt fear, remorse, or just unfortunateness. He did not seem to be of the criminal type. Maybe that was just the human side: There always is that human side of things that a person can sympathize with. There were times he would look at me. I wondered what his thoughts consisted of. I could only hold my stare for about seconds before having to look away. In those two seconds, I could see a whole world of differences between us, and also, sympathize with a handful of similarities too.
The judge called out question after question. The obvious choices were either to nod no, or raise your hand affirmably and verbally explain why. This was known as the jury interviewing stage – a process where the court would decide upon a group of people, representing a cross sample of the general population, to participate in an impartial jury. Even as candidates, we all had to swear in to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help us God – all twelve of us.
“Does anyone from the panel have previous knowledge of, or been acquainted with the defendant previous to the present time?” asked the judge.
All the candidates, including myself, nodded no.
“Does anyone from the panel have previous knowledge of, or been acquainted with the prosecuting attorney or defending attorney?”
We all nodded no.
“Does anyone from the panel have previous knowledge of, or been acquainted with anyone from the DA’s office or court system?”
I nodded no. A few hands rose. Each of the confirming candidates had to explain. Both, prosecuting and defending attorneys took notes. The questions continued.
“Does anyone from the panel know anyone who has themselves, or family member, or friend, been convicted of a crime?”
A few seconds passed as people thought to themselves. I instantly knew the answer. One hand rose. I could keep quiet at this point. No one would ever know. Another hand rose. If I do not say anything, no one would ever know – I could keep it locked away like a bag of secrets. I acknowledge that I am under oath. I had to speak out. It was only fair. I could just tell them and leave it at that. A few more seconds passed and a few more hands rose, totaling a count of six.
“All in the panel whom answered affirmatively, please tell us of who and when the conviction took place. If you wish to, you may approach the bench.”
I felt slightly relieved due to the availability of privacy. I practiced what I was going to say over and over in my mind. It never came out the same way twice. Fifteen minutes had passed and only three of the six people have approached the bench so far. Moments later, it would be my turn. I looked about the courtroom full of long faces, and waited...(to be continued)
loose comment... How's that for a little cliffhanger?