2 DAYS IN A JURY BOX GAVE ME LESSONS ABOUT JUSTICE AND LIFE

Civic Duty Had Its Thrill, but I Saw Other Side of the System

I may be the only person in history to get excited about being
summoned for jury duty. I was looking forward to seeing our justice
system in action -- and boy, did I.

My summons from Mecklenburg County arrived about a month ago, telling
me to show up at 8 a.m. last Monday at the county courthouse uptown.
Finding free parking was a breeze in the deck nearby. The jury room is
enormous, with high ceilings, huge windows and a full kitchen with
vending machines. There were at least 50 of us waiting to be called
into a courtroom. I settled into a comfortable armchair and fired up
my laptop. Two minutes later I was checking my work e-mail through the
Internet. A little later we were shown a 15-minute orientation video,
sworn in as a group, and told to wait.

At 10 a.m. the jury coordinator spoke again. "We'll be showing 'The
Runaway Jury,' " he said, pausing. "OK, that was a little courthouse
humor. The movie will really be 'Seabiscuit.' " He explained that the
movies are donated and no tax money is used. He also said another one
would be shown around 2 p.m. with free popcorn, also donated. About 30
minutes later he announced that a judge needed 30 jurors for a
criminal case. (Jurors can also be called to hear civil cases and for
service on a grand jury.) Those of us who were chosen at random for
this jury filed into a courtroom. A big window behind the judge looked
out to a top corner of the jail. I was called to the jury box and
watched as several other jurors were seated, but dismissed. Attorneys
on both sides asked that they be excused for having conflicts of
interests that could affect their judgment in the case. I bit my lip
to keep from laughing when the assistant district attorney asked
whether any jurors were disappointed that we wouldn't be seeing
anything resembling TV shows such as "CSI."

The defendant, a black man in his early 30s charged with selling crack
cocaine to undercover police officers, looked straight ahead. His
school-age children sat a few rows back, staring at us curiously. His
visibly pregnant wife gazed sadly at the judge.

The trial started with opening statements from the attorneys. Then we
had a 90-minute lunch break. I ate in the Courtside Cafe in the
courthouse. Not many choices, but convenient.

After lunch we heard evidence all afternoon. We ended at 4:50 p.m.
with an order from the judge not to talk about the case, which would
resume at 9:30 a.m. Tuesday.

The next morning we heard more testimony and closing arguments. We
reached a unanimous verdict of guilty fairly quickly.

Then we were told there would be a second phase. We had to decide
whether he should be classified as a habitual felon. This was
important because it would affect his sentence.

It took about an hour for the attorneys to wade through his record and
then send us to a conference room to decide. We agreed the
classification fit after about 40 minutes of discussion.

In the end, the defendant was sentenced to about 10 years in prison.
It felt satisfying to get a drug offender off city streets, even if it
required interrupting two days of my life.

As we waited to be dismissed, I couldn't help staring at his wife. Her
face was twisted into a mournful grimace and she rocked silently,
tears freely falling. I felt guilty for being consumed by such a
fascinating experience while her life fell apart. Exciting as it all
was, the true learning experience was about the people left behind in
the wake of crime.