… find in favor of not doing this again, not for a very long time. And when I do, I will cross my fingers and hope for a case far simpler that that which we confronted this week.
After returning to the Court House before 9:30am to continue our deliberations, we reached a verdict and a settlement amount around noon.
The deliberatory discussions were absolutely draining, emotionally and physically. As the foreman, it was my job to keep some kind of order. For the most part, I succeeded, but not without raising my voice a few times and giving withering looks a few times more. It is not that our jury was ill-constructed. Far from it. Somehow, our resulting twelve were remarkably representative of the Atlanta I recognize, both in appearance as well as in attitude. But there is nothing so dangerous as the discussion of money and how a dollar amount might relate to the value of one human’s life.
And yet, we did reach a verdict. We called for the bailiff, then filed back into the jury box one more time. The judge asked for the document bearing our finding, looked it over, then handed it back. With my heart pounding noisily my chest, I read the finding into the record. “We, the jury …”
That was that. Our duty done, we waiting in the jury room for the judge to see us a last time. He just walked in, an approach much different than the way we’d watched him enter in court. He thanked us, recognizing that the decision we had to make was a very difficult one. He added that there wasn’t a single person in the court who didn’t appreciate the work we’d done, that he’d noticed when we were all paying attention. He’d seen us struggle with the expert testimony, taking notes and making sure that we’d heard it all. Really … more than the small check I’ll receive in a week or so for my service, it was hearing the judge call us a “good jury” that I appreciated most of all then, and that I will remember for years to come.
So what happened? I’ll get to that. Later. The story is tragic and interesting, not at all boring. But my head and heart are so tired this afternoon and all I really want to do is turn off the lights and let the outside world pass me by for a little while.
7 responses to “Me, The Juror”
I can certainly second the difficulty of being foreman. I also had the same experience with the jury demographics–all in all it made me think that the jury selection process, as tiring as it is, actually works.
Glad there was no John Cusack, “Runaway Jury” action going on. Am interested to hear the story when you feel up to telling it.
Congratulations on a job well done.
I’d really love to hear the story when you feel like telling it. As a lawyer who has never gotten picked for a jury I am always fascinated to hear about the experience of trial from a jurors’ perspective and what things did and did not resonate with you or influence your decisionmaking.
Most likely, I’ll start moving the story out of my head and onto the screen this weekend. I want to share it, but more than that … I want to remember it.
Ah, what a draining but interesting thing to do . . . once, anyway. 🙂
Don’t think I forgot! I still want to hear the story!