I don’t know anyone who likes to be called to jury service. The arguments I’ve heard for my entire life range from “it’s a waste of time” to more depressing “it’s a pointless endeavor in a broken legal system”. There are those who simply cannot afford to take time off, regardless of law and policy that says employers can’t act against you for said service. There is the existential dread of having to deliver a decision on someone’s actions.

All these viewpoints largely lead to the distaste, to the dislike, too often to the hatred of a duty that we as citizens should take seriously.

My recent call up to serve was met not with a dislike but just another scheduling problem. Sometimes I dread of the logistics, regardless if jury duty is calling. Calls to reschedule, travel to shuffle, family arrangements to make. Inevitably, something falls through the cracks, but I suppose that’s just life.

As I sat in the jury room 150 people deep, I saw not a smile or smirk. The room, located in the basement of this courthouse, with it’s mismatched lighting and the passing shopping carts and ragged shoes of shuffling homeless through only the few windows to the north wall, reminds you that this is a rather depressing place.

Through crackling instructions my name is called and I shuffle through the halls up two flights of stairs passing the arguments, some heated while others simmer through gritted teeth.

It feels too warm, the lateness of September being pushed back by a 96 degree day in a courthouse that just doesn’t want to handle it. I think the courthouse hopes for a fall we’re probably never going to get again in my lifetime in California.

Walking into the courtroom, I soon found myself in the jury box. I’m sitting in the front row; the whispers behind me attest to the general displeasure of the situation for most folks, the prays of “please let me get out of this”.

Here’s the thing: I want to sit on this jury. Sure, it would not be convenient, I would no doubt have people upset by my unavailability, but I would do well and be able to evaluate evidence with a vigor. Sitting in the box listening to questions from the lawyers and some of the rather confusing answers from other prospective jurors further solidified this in my mind. How does one think that their beliefs overrule the law? How does one disagree with facts?

I was rather concerned to be honest. No wonder the sentiment of a broken legal system comes up so often; how does one get a fair trial when people seem to not bring a rather lacking logic and a lack of understanding on the law? How does one listen to the instructions and definitions of law from a judge and then shrug?

As I contemplated this as I sat silently in the jury box, the inevitable happened.

“Juror #11, Mr. Ribeiro, you are excused. The State thanks you for your service.”

Until next time, civic service.