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  (continued ...)
I remained standing. "Your Honor, I present myself as amicus curiae."
The judge arched an eyebrow, clearly impressed, "Jurors do not qualify for that role."
"Your Honor, at this point I am only a prospective juror. Therefore, I beg the Court's indulgence. I believe this trial is a totally unnecessary waste of our precious time. There's no doubt in my mind about the defendant's guilt. We're all guilty of something. You know it, I know it ..." I gestured grandly around his courtroom. "They all know it. And I'm proud to live in a country where the guilty have the opportunity for a jury of their peers to proclaim that guilt to the world." His mouth was agape; my brilliance had stunned this patriarch of justice. Not to mention my own surprise at having gotten this far.
For some reason, he let me continue. "Jury trials exist for two reasons--three actually, but lawsuits represent such a mockery of our fine legal system, and I'd like to highlight only the positive in your courtroom.
"First possibility, the defendant was framed. Judging from his attire, his hope of convincing myself, plus a sufficient number of these upstanding citizens, of his innocence is doomed to failure." I figured that calling them "pinbrains" would have been counter-productive.
"Second possibility. The defendant got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and the guilt will be obvious on his face. In either case, we'll convict him. Therefore, let's save time and taxpayer money and proceed directly to sentencing. Now, I have a few thoughts for you to ponder in that regard.
"I've always felt that capital punishment ridicules the American sense of fair play. Appeals and sundry legal loopholes can delay its resolution for years, and if we do reach the execution stage, the attendant ceremonies merely serve to glorify it. While syndicated crime has been profitable for years, mass murderers are now expected to write biographies and sell movie rights. Where's the deterrent to violence in that?
"And consider our methods. Doesn't our Bill of Rights guarantee no cruel or unusual punishments? If gagging on poison gas and convulsing to death in the electric chair aren't cruel, I don't know what is. What was wrong with the guillotine? It was quick, easy, and inexpensive. Nothing high-tech about it, and practically maintenance free.
"Here's another thought. In our striving to return to nature with natural foods and natural fibers, why not have natural executions? Strap him to a lightning rod. What's more natural than that? In addition, we'd give the religious fanatics a dramatic illustration of divine retribution. On the other hand, if he survives the lightning strike, the psychiatric community will have an opportunity to assess the results of radical electroshock therapy. Win-win.
"While lethal injections soothe the savagery of putting someone out of our misery, they encourage pharmaceutical companies to design new drugs to give the victims a memorable just-before-afterlife experience, and I'm not sure that's in our best interest.
"In some parts of the world, the severing of body parts provides a significant crime deterrent. How about castration? It's hardly cruel or unusual since we do it to the pets whom we often treat better than our fellow man. It would be an effective reminder--it certainly would be for me--of the consequences of antisocial behavior. Plus, it carries the added benefit of population control. Set a precedent, Your Honor. Interviews, lecture tours, and a book by the judge who had balls would nicely finance your retirement.
"At the lesser end of the scale, we have Community Service as a punishment. That's not the cop-out some consider it to be. Chosen carefully, it can be effective and rewarding for all." I dramatically indicated Tank Top, giving those present plenty of time to take in all aspects of his person. "Sentence the defendant into the custody of someone who could truly teach him about loving his fellow man. And this juror--it brings tears to my eyes--would leave your courtroom deeply touched by our remarkable judicial system."
I sat to let him respond.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the judge began, "I apologize for the delay and thank you for your patience. Under our system of justice two types of trials are possible: the jury trial and the bench trial. You were called here because the defendant had elected a jury trial. After an extensive pre-trial meeting, he has chosen to waive that in favor of a bench trial, as is his right. In that case, a judge, rather than a jury, decides the outcome of the case. While we try to avoid such inconveniences as these, they sometimes occur as a result of the due process. Again, I thank you for coming. Your jury service is satisfied, and you are hereby discharged. If you need to have anything signed for your employers, please see the court clerk at the front."
I felt disappointment ripple through the courtroom. I looked down at my library book and mentally added a question mark at the end of the title. I got up, put on my coat and gloves, tucked the book under my arm, and shuffled toward the exit. I realized why my boss had filled my head with his proverbs before I left work yesterday. "News is where you find it. A good reporter is never on vacation. Assumptions unsupported by facts get you sued for libel."
As I paused to look back at this miscarriage of justice, the earring-dangling scent of leather and mildly pungent cologne walked past me. Suddenly, today shouted bravado. Mark Twain would have said, if he'd thought of it (I wasn't sure that he hadn't), that adventure is a moral imperative. I recalled a passage from one of my journalism texts about interviews: "Eighty-five percent of the people out there want to talk." What the hell.
Outside, brightness poked through now-broken clouds. I began to whistle, watching the puffs of my breath exit from my lips, and picked up my pace. I caught up to Tank Top in the parking lot. "Bummer of a wasted day, wasn't it? My name's Dave Blayne. I work for the Chronicle. Any chance I might get your thoughts on a day in the life of a rejected juror? Bar up the street, buy you a beer?"
He pointed at me. "Pine Hill apartments, number two-twenty?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Thought I recognized you. I'm Terry Halston. I live in two-twenty-six." I shook his proffered hand. He said, "I moved here a couple months ago. Sorry for staring at you in there, but I was trying to figure out where I'd seen you. So, you're a reporter?"
"Trying to be."
"I envy you being able to tell people what you think. I'm a customer service rep at the phone company and have to bite my tongue a lot. I accept your offer. Beer's better than customer complaints any day."
"Do they let you dress that way at work?"
"Only if I want to get fired. Jury duty's usually boring, so I decided to spice it up. After I saw their stares, God, I wanted to be in a jury room with them just to watch them squirm." He removed his earring. "Just part of the act."
"I think your talents are wasted at the phone company."
"That's what my girlfriend says. By the way, if you're looking, try one-nineteen. She's a model who just broke up with her boyfriend."
As he put the earring in his pocket, my boss's warning about making assumptions came back at me. |
Rick Taubold
