Changing Fortunes: REWIND: Juror #6

I was on track to becoming Juror #6 in a double-murder case in Oakland last May.

Finally, I was willing and ready to spend maybe 6 weeks of my life coming to Judge Morris Jacobson's courtroom to listen to testimony and then to participate in more weeks of serious jury deliberation. Ultimately, I had surrendered all hope that I might be spared from the selection -- first the hope that the group number on my jury summons would not be called to come to the courthouse, then that I would not be one of the 80 to be called to the courtroom to meet the judge, then that the judge would excuse me for possible time conflict with my planned pre-paid vacation in August, then that the defense attorney would reject me for my opposition to gun ownership. Since none of those things happened, I had decided to, at last, face the music.

I was one of the original 12 to be called to sit in the jury box at the start of the day. The judge, the prosecutor, and the defense attorney explained the many different aspects of a trial, and at every turn asked us if we could honestly stay impartial given what they had explained so far. I knew that I could keep an open mind and definitely could think rationally throughout the trial. Many others said they couldn't, so they were excused and they were free to leave. Hours went by and candidate jurors were dropping like flies. The juror seat occupants kept changing, but Juror #6 stayed.

Until the subject of bloody scenes and autopsies came up, that is. The question was whether anyone in the room would be affected by the sight of bloody images. I thought long and hard about this. In the end, I had to admit to myself and to the judge that there was a reason I never watched CSI or Law and Order on TV, and it was that bloody crime scenes made me sick. I said I didn't think I could think straight nor would I want to return to court after looking at sickening bloody evidence. I said, sorry I couldn't stay. And the kind judge said, "It's alright. Thank you very much. You may go." So, I got up from Juror #6's seat, turned in my Juror badge to the assistant bailiff, and left the courtroom.

Surprisingly disappointed.