MANAGING EDITOR / THE DAILY IBERIAN
It is our civic responsibility to make ourselves available for jury duty in district courts around the state. Just make sure you bring something to read, say, like “War and Peace.”
The need for people to participate in our representative democracy is clear. We do so through voting, although more and more people fail to show up at the polls. We do so through military service, which is voluntary and should make us respect those who choose to serve all the more. But another way for us to serve is jury duty, which I had the privilege to do last week.
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My boss gave me good advice: Make sure you bring something to read. I thought that if one could bring a book to read, a laptop computer would be even better because I could get some work done. Bad idea.
“What’s in the bag?” the deputy working security said.
“My laptop,” I answered casually.
“You can’t bring that in there,” he responded.
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked. What harm could a laptop do?
“No, it’s against the rules,” the deputy said.
So I ditched the laptop and carried my book into the courtroom.
All went well in the first few minutes after settling in at 9 a.m. State District Judge Charles Porter was courteous to the prospective jurors, weeded out a few for age or medical reasons, then swore in the rest of us. Then to our surprise, instead of panels being put in the jurors’ box and questioned, he said we could all leave and come back at 1:30 p.m.
The complaining began.
After lunch, the remaining prospective jurors settled in the hard, pew-like benches, some of us with books or magazines. Most of the folks were empty-handed. We waited as lawyers and bailiffs criss-crossed the area in front of the judge’s bench. In and out of the judge’s chambers they went. An hour later, a tall bailiff with a booming voice announced we were allowed a 10-minute recess. The murmurs became louder.
“Recess? From what?” one woman asked incredulously.
“Man, what dey doin’?” a man asked, clearly disappointed.
I stayed put. The way I figured it, there was no way for almost 100 people to leave the courtroom, find a bathroom and get a drink of water in 10 minutes. I’d sacrifice my parched throat and semi-full bladder for the sake of my peers.
We soon settled in again and the chit-chat continued. Now, I do not make it a habit to eavesdrop on folks’ conversations, but when there’s an eruption of laughter from a small group of people and one raised voice is heard saying, “That’s right, naked. ... if they see me they deserve what they get,” one can’t help but be amused. More laughter came from that group, but the tones were more hushed after the reference to nudity.
At 3 p.m., we were dismissed and told to return at 9 a.m. the next day.
More complaining. We all wondered when we were going to participate in the jury selection process.
The next morning, more people had something to read; many still wondered aloud when we’d get under way.
After more than an hour and a half of sitting in refrigerator temperatures, Judge Porter returned.
He said although it seemed to us that nothing was happening, prosecutors and defense lawyers had actually been hard at work hammering out pleas. Although we felt we were idle, we actually had been participating in helping the wheels of justice turn. The judge likened the service to similar events when he was in the U.S. Marines: Hurry up, wait for maneuvers to begin and then be ordered back to the barracks.
A recent visit from state District Judge Lori Landry to the New Iberia Kiwanis Club included a bit on jury duty. She, too, compared it to military service. But I had to remind her that I can choose not to join the military and that’s OK. If I choose not to report to jury duty, that’s contempt.
So, what is one to do when called to jury duty? Make sure you have the essentials: a good book; a warm jacket; and a soft seat cushion wouldn’t hurt.
JEFF ZERINGUE is managing editor of The Daily Iberian. He can be reached at iberianedit@bellsouth.net.
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