John Allison: Jury duty, the (possible) antidote to civic despair
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American democracy has been taking a beating lately. When people are feeling lousy about their country, experts usually recommend civic pick-me-ups to alleviate the aches and pains. Attend a veterans parade. Play bingo at a volunteer fire department. Witness a Blue Angels air show.
All of those are nice, and they usually feature booths selling fried foods and ice cream, which help. I’m here with a riskier proposition. It can consume days of your waking hours. Long stretches of tedium are the norm. Little is provided in the way of calories.
To renew your faith in the American system of justice, as well as in our common humanity, I say: Do your duty and serve on a jury.
I recently served on the jury of a criminal trial in the Allegheny County Court of Common Pleas. It was 7.5 days of my life that I will never get back — but it was a learning experience that no college course or Netflix series could replicate.
To be clear, avoiding jury duty is a rational desire. Whether you’re an hourly worker or a brain surgeon, you can’t always afford to surrender an undetermined amount of your time. The pay ain’t great ($9 a day to start). A lot of court cases are not as engaging as an episode of “Law and Order.”
In my case, the stars aligned. I’m privileged to work for a company that supports time spent on this civic obligation. Our case was serious, complex, emotional — far from open-and-shut. And my fellow jurors were great company.
This random collection of Allegheny County registered voters, selected for whatever reasons by the lawyers on both sides of the case, were just the sort of people you want to be holed up with for seven-plus days. They were decent, bright and funny. After some standard grumbling about the time suck, everyone was committed to the task at hand.
While my 13 fellow citizens (11 sitting jurors and two alternates) were all upstanding, there’s another reason we stayed in a harmonious mood. It’s something that may be surprising if you are a tad cynical about government these days.
Every person at every level in the court system treated us with courtesy and professionalism — but that should be expected, as basic customer service. What stuck with me, and my fellow jurors, was the reverence for the law and the sanctity of the process that every person in the court system displayed.
It started from the top, with a judge who had all the old-school virtues — rigor, attention to detail, a dignified bearing mixed with a playful sense of humor — and a comprehension of modern social customs. The tipstaff (the arcane term for the court’s officer who tended to us) not only had a big welcoming personality, but also solemnly conveyed the responsibilities that we had accepted and must uphold. I know it’s fashionable to diss lawyers, but the defense and the prosecution always appeared to play fair and were fierce when needed — while free of snark and lowest-common-denominator theatrics. The respect and honor we felt in the courtroom were highly contagious and as transmissible, in a good way, as the delta variant.
Here’s my second “to be clear”: Results may vary. You could pull jury duty and end up with a world-weary judge. The case might be a dud. Some of your fellow jurors could become nightmares after one tough day.
But if a jury summons arrives in the mail, put aside the dread, just for a moment, and consider what you might be charged to do: Ensure that justice for someone is done, so help you God.