jury duty, or: so near and yet so far

This month I have jury duty, which entails calling the court every evening to find out if I need to report the next morning. Had to report this morning. Shuffled into sign-in area with about forty others for a quick video on civic duty featuring re-enactments of senior citizen (as the citizen) getting jury notice, vaguely ethnic-looking guy (as the accused) standing before a judge, and other assorted vignettes, interspersed with commentary cribbed from 'Schoolhouse Rock.' The video was narrated by a legal correspondent from one of the major networks because, hey, when you want to send a message about being "responsible," you want a member of the mainstream media in your corner.

Then we were led through the metal detectors, where numerous prospective jurors found out they couldn't bring pocket knives into the court room. Incidentally, when I was an altar boy, the priest--anticipating either that we should be gentlemanly or that we should always be prepared to commit and then cover up a crime--used to tell us to NEVER be without a pocket knife and a clean, white handkerchief. But I digress. Two prospective jurors had knitting supplies, too, and the needles also got a big ix-nay from the deputies.

Twelve of us (not including me) got to sit in the jury box. I call this group the "first string." After pledging allegiance and giving us some details about the case (a criminal case which involved a guy accused of gross sexual misconduct), the judge asked the first string some questions. Stuff like do you have a physical condition that could prevent you from showing up here each morning for the next few days. Then the prosecutor asked the first string a boatload of questions like have you or a friend or a family member ever had an unfavorable run-in with the law (that question will figure into the story in a moment). She also asked if they watch CSI or Law&Order. She asked those who said yes whether the show would cloud their ability to judge this case's merits. Then the defense attorney asked the first string a few real specific questions like do you know my client or any members of his family?

Sidebar time. The judge calls both attorneys to the bench. The bailiff puts on some classical music (kinda loud--almost in a "Clockwork Orange" way) so that the rest of us can't hear the sidebar. One juror is dismissed. The non-first-string person sitting closest to the jury box is called into the box. The judge asks her if any of the previously asked questions put up any red flags for her. Discussion ensues. Another sidebar, followed by the judge dismissing another juror. The person who is NOW sitting closest to the box is called up. Rinse, lather, and repeat. I was sitting tenth from the jury box...

And, yes, enough jurors were nixed that I was called into that box. The judge corrected the clerk's pronunciation of my name, cryptically adding that he knew it was a mis-pronunciation because he was familiar with lots of Italians from Youngstown (he was looking down at my juror questionaire and could see it was my hometown). Okay. So the judge asks me if any of the aforeasked questions was pertinent to me. Earlier, prosecutor had posed the question about run-ins with the law. Me? No. Family members? Err, kind of.

Questions ensued. Stories were told (during which the juror next to me picked up her purse ANTICIPATING that I would be the next to be dismissed). Sidebars were called. Juror DeGenaro was thanked and sent home. Boy, I came THIS CLOSE to being on that jury. Tonight I call again. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow I'll be back at the courthouse.