CIVICS LESSON

The circus comes to town!

Living in a small town means slow news days: Un-mowed lawns update, Pot luck supper location, and nuclear secrets stolen. That last thing was kept quiet, based on the look on your face.

But when we make the news, we hit the national radar: Hot car death trial, The capsizing of the Golden Ray, And a high profile murder case starting this week. News coverage and protests abound!

And it became a personal civics lesson, when I was ‘invited’ to join the potential juror pool.  

Jury duty is a lot like what I imagine prison to be: You can’t leave, you probably won’t meet a lot of folks you keep in touch with, and all the magazines are at least 4 years old.

And they only refer to you by number. Finally, a jaunty nickname: Juror 152!

My journey to becoming Juror 152 was in 3 legs:

I was one of 1000 local residents to receive a letter inviting me for jury selection consideration. There was also a questionnaire asking how much I knew about the case.  In a preemptive strike, I indicated my belief in the defendant’s guilt, but added a section entitled “Fear Your Government”. To leave no one unscathed, I even included my felony conviction for scalding our neighbor’s cat.

Along with 199 other locals eager to do their civic duty, I attended a “sorting session’ to determine which pool I’d join. I desperately wanted Hufflepuff, but Pool 4 was my fate.  

Then Pool 4 met at the Courthouse, where our pool of 20 answered a series of questions as a group: How much do you know about the case, Do you know anyone involved, Would you brake for a blind person in the crosswalk? Then each of us was questioned individually to see if we could be “fair and impartial”.

In prison, job 1 is to keep one’s “I’m being incarcerated Mani/Pedi” from getting chipped, as that reflects negatively on your status with the other prisoners.

For jury duty, job 1 is concocting a reason to “get dismissed”.

Juror 137 was dismissed because he was the Governor of Rhode Island, a claim I doubted, but he had a Facebook post that proved it.

Juror 144 was dismissed because he testified that he had dynamite taped to his body. As he was being escorted out by the Feds, I heard his last request was getting his ‘going in Mani/Pedi’.

Juror 147 tried to start the wave, but attorneys are no fun.

When I was called, I was ready.

I had brushed up on the Dred Scott decision, the illegality of the Louisiana Purchase, the pros and cons of the Designated Hitter.  I decided against wearing a sleeveless sweater with no shirt, because I have some sense of style. And there was a dress code. I brought 2 masks, marked ‘guilty’ and ‘not-guilty’, which I alternated depending on which side was questioning me.

I covered a range of topics in my 10 minutes: They’re guilty! I watch Dateline and I know if the government wants to convict you, they will! Vanilla is better than Chocolate!

In closing, when asked if I had anything to add, I said: “Rehabilitated? That’s just a made up politicians word. There’s not a day goes by I don’t feel regret, I was a young stupid kid then, and I’d like to talk some sense into him”. At that point, 2 deputies forcibly removed me from the stand.

Mission accomplished: Dismissed!  But as a Catholic, I feel guilty about it.

It appears jury selection and the ensuing trial will take a while – our day ran from 8:30A-7P.

Don’t know what the verdict will be, but the defense attorneys will have the last laugh: Billable Hours!

For 71 more posts like this – many of which will be overturned upon appeal – go to beersatthenifty.com

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TO ENHANCE YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THIS POST, PAIR IT WITH THE FOLLOWING SONGS:

Folsom Prison Blues  Johnny Cash

“I Hear The Train A-Comin’; It’s Rollin’ ‘Round The Bend,
And I Ain’t Seen The Sunshine Since I Don’t Know When,
I’m Stuck At Folsom Prison And Time Keeps Draggin’ On.
But That Train Keeps A-Rollin’
On Down To San Antone.
When I Was Just A Baby, My Mama Told Me. Son,
Always Be A Good Boy; Don’t Ever Play With Guns.
But I Shot A Man In Reno Just To Watch Him Die.
When I Hear That Whistle Blowin’
I Hang My Head And Cry”

Fish in the Jailhouse  Tom Waits

“Peoria Johnson told Dirty Ol’ Joe
I can break out of any old jail, you know
The bars are iron, the walls are stone
All I need me is an old fishbone

Fish in the jailhouse tonight, all right, oh boy
They’re serving fish in the jailhouse tonight, all right, oh boy
Fish in the jailhouse tonight”

Hidden Shame  Elvis Costello – and Johnny Cash’s cover is very fine

I’m sorry to say that you don’t know me
I’m sad in ways you never understood
Each time I try to tell the ugly truth, you always let it pass you by
You said I ‘d never tell you a lie, just because I could

Did you really think I was a bad man?
You always said that, that should be my middle name
But you don’t know the half of it, you don’t know how that name fits
You don’t know my hidden shame

Hidden shame, shame, shame
That I can’t get free
From the blame and the torture and the misery
Must it be my secret for eternity?
Till you know my hidden shame you really don’t know me

Well, there’s a different kind of prison
And it don’t even have to look much like a cell
It’s already on your mind boy, we can see it in your eyes
So, here’s the bars and walls as well

I had a friend when I was just a boy
We were like brothers, we would run and hide
And we went walking on a high hillside
And I really don’t know how it happened

He turned to me and had this strange look in his eye
And not a single word was spoken
I must have pushed him, but I don’t remember why?
And all at once, he lay there broken
And I walked down without him and I didn’t even sigh

They say you always hurt the one you love
And I’m not saying if I did or if I didn’t
But like my shame, that kind of love is always hidden
They locked me up here for the ideas in my head
They never got me for the thing I really did”

Open Door  Travis Morrison

“Come pick me up, i gotta get outta here
They say they’re my family, Man, i don’t know
They cannot tell trapped from sticking together
Any open door looks good to me now

Get in that car – yeah, I’m losing my mind dear
‘Cos they think nothing through, no they only react
My headache is worse but my bags are all packed now
Any open door looks good to me now

And there’s a time to keep it cool, oh yeah
And there’s a time to reconcile yourself
With playing someone’s fool, yeah

So come pick me up, dude i need some perspective
‘Cos there’s only one truth and that’s no truth at all
The planet gets big and your world becomes so small
Any open door looks good to me now

Just drop me off, yeah right here by the roadside
It’s a nice night to walk and i could be alone
Alone with my thoughts, alone with my cell phone
Any open door looks good to me now”

Love me, leave me, shiv me  Warden Norton

“I’ll do anything to survive this prison life, I’ll even be my cellmate’s wife,                                                          If we get a bit of pudding for dinner, It’s all his  – he’s looking thinner!                                                          And if I’m threatened in the yard, He’ll defend his wife – my trump card!                                                      You mean so much to me, Love me, leave me, shiv me!”