I Knew I Had Been Sincere
Thursday, January 5, 2012 at 11:43PM I've been a bit flaky lately. I wrote my rent check, put it into an addressed envelope, placed a stamp on it and when I was going out the door to mail it, I couldn't find it but uncovered atop my desk, in its stead, my jury duty notice, 24-hours before I was due to appear at 100 Center Street, January 3, 2012 at 9 AM. The next day, on the Number Six train headed downtown, I heard a homeless man crooning "Under the Boardwalk, down by the Sea, yeah, on a blanket with my baby is where I'll be" which I knew to be a reverie and not a reality for I was standing there shivering in the nineteen degree temperature.
Soon I was going through security at the Criminal Courts Building, inside a room on the fifteenth floor, listening to a clerk speaking into a microphone. "I'm Glenn. You're lucky. I've been doing this for thirty years. I don't read from a script like all the others and I'm understanding of the plight of all free-lancers who might be out there. I work for myself, too, from 6 AM to 8 AM, five days a week. I'm a personal trainer."
By 2:30 PM, I was on the fourth floor where a judge, my contemporary, asked me, "Do you have the ability to make a decision based solely on evidence?" I answered, "I don't know. I've never served on a jury. This is my fifth time trying. I keep getting bounced. I am, you know, capable of critical assessment." He continued, "You wrote that you knew someone who was a victim of a crime. Who was that person and how long ago did it occur?" I replied, "In the 1970's, my mother and brother were mugged. The house was also robbed." Then he wondered, "Do you think that will affect your ability to serve as an impartial juror?"
"No," I proclaimed. "In utero, after spending nine months in the dark, I could discern life was unfair and things happened."
I thus became "Juror Number One, " with twenty-five others following. When they found seats, the female assistant district attorney (ADA), wearing a navy blue jacket and skirt, white blouse and black heels, looking about twenty-five, 5'4" tall, coifed with light brown hair to her chin, strode to the podium and pushed it towards the jury box as its top loosened and began jutting out from the base. This prompted the judge to call a court officer over to assist the attorney in reassembling it and he addressed us. "Albany has instituted budget cuts, otherwise that would have been fixed. Look up. Several ceiling tiles are missing. There's no cash to replace them either. Others are loose as well. But here's the upside. We now leave at 4:30 and not 5, saving money and diminishing the possibility that one of us may meet with a catastrophe while inside this building."
The ADA was representing New York City's district attorney Cyrus Vance. He had signed the affidavit accusing the defendant, a man in his forties, wearing a black suit, sitting next to his lawyer, who appeared to be the same age and height as the ADA, but in a gray suit and whose short hair was at odds with itself, of driving while intoxicated, December 9, 2009, near the corner of 105th Street and Third Avenue. He had harmed no one. He had hit nothing. What he had done was abstain from choosing a specific lane to travel in, catching the eyes of two cops in a nearby cruiser.
The ADA's first question was, "Ms. Marx. I see that one of your interests is going to the movies. What types do you see?" I said, "Ones that have a plot, likable characters, lacking gore, violence or sexual exploitation. Once in a while I also like to feel ennobled." Then she added, "What was your last movie?" I replied, "'A Dangerous Method' about Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud and a shared female patient.
To others she posed, "Do you feel having one drink, which is legal in New York State and then driving should be made illegal?" "Are policemen more observant than onlookers?" "Is a breathalyzer an accurate barometer to decide if a person is intoxicated?" Eventually, she returned to me. "Ms. Marx. Will listening to evidence be enough for you to make a conclusion?" I answered, "Maybe. When that time comes I'll call upon my higher angels to assist me." With that the judge interrupted, "Do you think your higher angels are in this court room at present?" I looked around and uttered, "I doubt it but if they are I hope I'm able to assess them."
The judge then ushered the lawyers to the bench. When the ADA returned she asked if any of us knew how a coffee maker worked. When no one did, she compared that mechanism with a breathalyzer trying to show how if one used this object, without benefit of understanding how it worked, one could still trust in its results. Then she sat down and the defense took her place admonishing us that the burden of proof was the prosecutor's responsibility. That he and his client could refrain from speaking and the trial had to still proceed. He also questioned others and ignored me and at 4:30 we were dismissed.
The next day, at 9:30 AM, we were outside the courtroom. Seated to my left was a man and woman in their early twenties, holding hands. Suddenly three emergency medical technicians, one pushing a gurney, emerged out of an elevator and went straight to them. The young man professed, "I took my first one last night" showing the female EMT his bottle of pills. "Then my heart began racing. I got dizzy. I couldn't sleep. I didn't take one this morning. Now my lips are blowing up."
She read the prescription. "Your dentist likes you. He's worried your infection would spread to your brain. Yet two Tylenols would have worked as well. You know you could sell these on the street for $7.00 a piece. You have twenty. But you're no addict. You have distress symptoms. Addicts go directly into the 'zone'" which was exactly when I was going to ask her the name of that pill when the Court Officer appeared and began reading off those who were excused. My name was among them.
Back on the fifteenth floor, the assistant clerk looked at all of us declaring, "You may go. If you plan to get into trouble, make it after 4:30. Here's a letter granting each one of you a six-year reprieve from serving." With that I shot out the door and by 10:50 I was on the Number Six going home surrounded by silence. No one was talking. No one was singing. There was me thinking. "Hey, why hadn't I been picked?"
I knew I had been sincere.
Reader Comments (18)
Jury duty is such a rich source of material. I always feel like I am on trial somehow. I love the question about higher angels by the judge. You got sprung early for good behavior! I really enjoy the detailed observations of the people you meet without judgement. So evocative of life in NYC!
This article is so very written. Your writing is most enjoyable. Your choices of words fascinate me. What good observations of your expercience. Thanks
Excellent! Some people have all the luck! Being sincere helps most of the time, but it didn't help me when I got picked for jury duty and put on a FRAUD case that seemed endless. When asked if I fail students, I replied, "No, students fail themselves." Apparently that was a good answer and I became a juror for the first time in life.
Sheila
As always, Jane, this is very entertaining and fun to read. I too had quite an experience earlier this year at the courthouse. They always excuse the good ones.
Happy New Year and keep writing!
Barbara
I loved this - made me laugh. I think your in utero and angel comments may have nixed you!
(PS remind me to tell you about my Cyrus Vance stories)
Jane, my jury duty experiences are not half so amusing or entertaining. That being said, if I were so amused at jury duty, it wouldn't make me want to fulfill that obligation any further than I already have!
A lawyer friend of mine told me years ago to show uo in a suit and tie carrying a briefcase and a Wall St. Journal. You get excused every times because lawyers want people they can manipulate. Lawyers think well dressed business people are harder to manipulate. I don't totally agree but this gambit has always worked for me.
Nice one, Jane. You should be a tour goddess of courts and the 6 train.
Yep, I agree, it was the angels who got you relieved of duty. Perhaps that was the real mission of the angels. I have never in my life been called for jury duty. Now, I am wondering why.
I recognise all the things you say as normal occurances in everyday life and yet you have a way of elevating them to the realms of the fascinating. They apply just as well to life in the UK as they do to life in NY and as I now live in France I can attest to the fact that things run a pretty similar course here too. Keep the stories coming Jane, they make me smile and reflect and smile again.
This story really illuminates your uniqueness which makes you stand alone....no one - ever in the NYC courts- EVER responded to these questions as you did. They had no choice but to excuse you - because they had no clue as to what you might say or do had you been chosen.....and I am convinced the lawyers, judge and everyone there are still talking about the "red haired lady" and what she said.....
Jane -you are a role model for all of us - you say what you think - you are ALWAYS sincere - and people walk away shaking their heads.....and laughing!!!!
Fabulous Jane, the story was well written, funny....I felt you sitting in my chair, listening to you relive the story. I loved it!
This is a wonderful experience Jane! Very inspiring. -Sarah-
Another charming piece, Jane.
FYI: The late John Hammond, who was the greatest musical talent scout of the 20th century (Billie Holiday, Aretha Franklin, Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen were among his discoveries) a full-fledged Vanderbilt and my mentor in the music business, was the only person I've ever know to regularly volunteer for jury duty of all kinds. He thought juries were the best examples of a functioning democracy and also loved the people he met while he served.
Fabulous Jane ! So funny and completely off the wall ! You fly when you write like this, however it's always a grand adventure reading your blogs ! Viva your flippancy !
I love it!
I think you were OK till the angel comment.
I wonder if they appreciate flaky biscuits?
Obviously they didn't appreciate you!
Once again a wonderful day in the life of Jane!!! Loved it, please keep writing, as you do it sooooo well.
Cyrus Vance Sr. had a house not far from here and my friend's father was the caretaker for the estate. At the time Mr. Vance was Secretary of State and never home. Since my friend had the key, we used to go in the house drink Cy's liquor and drive around the property drunk on our ass!
Ah to be back in Catholic high school!