OC Unfiltered >> Jury selection process is slow and antiquated

Written by Cindy Nevitt Friday, February 10, 2012 01:00 am

Earlier this week, I had my first encounter with the American justice system, summoned to serve as a potential juror. I had successfully avoided stepping into the courthouse in Cape May County for 35 years, but not this time.

When I returned the summons, indicating I was older than 18, spoke and understood the English language, was a U.S. citizen and a resident of Cape May County, I also noted that I was starting a new job and that missing work would be a hardship. The American justice system was not sympathetic, and so when the appointed time came, off I went to jury selection and the courthouse, land of unceasing monotony.

The case was a criminal one. There was a standing-room-only crowd at the beginning of the selection process, and 10 stultifying hours later, there were just five people of the original 76 who had not been called and kept or dismissed for cause. I was one of the five. In fact, the jury manager told me I would have been the last one called. This is not as special as I make it sound.

Here is what I learned in the seven hours I sat in Courtroom C on Monday and the three additional hours I sat in the same courtroom on Tuesday in Cape May Court House:

I have attention deficit disorder. My focus wandered.

I tried to read a novel – ironically, one about a criminal court case! I tried to outline a major story I am working on, one that involves many interviews, the creation of a map and lots of detail. I tried to get comfortable, wedged elbow to elbow with my fellow unfortunates. The first day, my wool coat was too heavy. The second day, my jacket was too light for the chilly courtroom temperature.

The jury selection process is interminable. Every single juror is asked the same 26 questions, but asked them one by one by one. Names are drawn randomly and each prospective juror approaches the bench.

Have you answered any of the 26 questions “yes”? Let’s review those then. Have you ever been the victim of a crime? When? What kind of crime? Served on a jury? When? What was the outcome? Been a witness in a criminal case? When? Why? Do you know anyone in the law enforcement field? Who? Know any of the potential witnesses in the court room? Who? Are you familiar with the area where the incident took place? How?

After a thorough interrogation, the juror is either seated or dismissed.

On Monday, two dozen prospective jurors were dismissed for cause and a jury of 14 seated. On Tuesday, the attorneys began dismissing seated jurors who displeased them for reasons unknown. The state booted 10 total, the first five in one fell swoop, then five more from among the remaining original jurors and their replacements. The defendant’s attorney rejected nine jurors total. The judge dismissed the rest for cause, leaving five prospective jurors looking at their second day off the job without pay.

If a juror is actually seated, they can expect another round of questions. What kind of work do you do? How long have you been doing that? Anyone else living at home? Who? How old? What do they do? Any children not living at home? How old? What kind of jobs do they hold? Any grandchildren? Their age range? What’s your level of education? What do you do in your spare time? Any bumper stickers not political in nature on your vehicle? What are your favorite TV shows? Where do you get your news?

The number of jurors who cited Fox as an actual source of news was shocking, as was the number of jurors who admitted reality shows – “Real Housewives,” anyone? – are their favorite type of television programming.

For relief, the prospective jurors are allowed three breaks a day, with instructions to report to the jury assembly room before returning to the court room. Here is all you need to know about how slowly the wheels of justice grind: In the jury assembly room, time actually runs backward. The place was still decorated for Christmas, with two snowpeople (the politically correct term for persons made of frozen precipitation), a table centerpiece composed of fake greenery and topped with a semi-festive bow, and a pitcher with red and white poinsettia blooms in it. According to every calendar I’ve consulted, Christmas was seven weeks ago.

The point of the selection exercise, as we all learned in eighth-grade civics class, is to provide the accused with a jury of his peers. I am pretty sure the pony-tailed perpetrator in this case was not a zoologist, a beer distributor or a bounty hunter, three of the professions of the 14 people sworn in to decide his fate. His judge, his attorney and his prosecutor are all professionals, but the people who will decide his innocence or guilt are amateurs. How does that make sense?

When we first arrived at the courthouse, we watched a film about the jury selection process. Thin on plot, lacking star power and completely devoid of action (no explosions!), the film informed us the jury system is virtually unchanged in 200 years and we are fortunate to have it in this country. True, but it’s hard to feel fortunate when doing the country this favor takes money out of my pocket. It cost me $160 to sacrifice two days of substitute teaching pay to travel to Court House for $10. So I incurred a net loss of $150 plus the expense of gas and tolls. What’s that saying about another day, another dollar?

I was not the only one who was taking a hit to the budget. From the grumbling I overheard, there was more discontent about participating in the American justice system than there was enthusiasm. How is it in the defendant’s best interest to assemble a jury of people who resent this command performance? How can resentment breed anything but contempt?

The jury selection process is cumbersome and tedious. Almost everything in America has changed in 200 years. It’s high time this antiquated system of volunteer peers is replaced by something that will better serve the interests of all.

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