Last September I received a jury duty summons for the last week of October. Though I was sure my summons was really just a one day commitment, and curious about how our court system functioned, I managed to pull off that early Monday morning downtown arrival without a hitch. Two juror groups were called immediately and when I wasn’t selected for either of those, I gleefully continued with the work I had brought.
An hour later I found myself in the gallery of a murder trial courtroom. Two rows deep in possible jurors, I was certain I wouldn’t be selected, but the process took considerably longer than I was guessing; we returned on Tuesday for more questioning. Just before lunch, both sides of the case rested in their jury selection. The judge dismissed two jurors, then called alternates from the gallery. I was shocked to hear him call my name.
For three days we sat in the “egg carton”- a jury box divided by so much COVID-based plexiglass it distorted some of our vision and hearing. We heard testimony and watched surveillance video. No sound accompanied the images, but the prosecuting attorneys explained the footage, camera locations, and orientations.
What shocked me from the footage was the lack of reaction by the bar patrons and bartender. When it was obvious something was happening on the patio, the bartender continued to pour drinks and make change. One by one the patrons calmly paid their bills and left. No one ran, toward the trauma or away from it. No one called 911, except the bartender and then only when prompted by other bar staff.
Late on Friday afternoon, the active jurors found the defendant guilty. While he continued to wait trial for other crimes, the jurors were released. As I drove home, the details of the crime faded into the periphery. I eventually turned into our neighborhood, our driveway, our garage and gratitude filled me. I hadn’t made terrible choices or let the wrong people influence me. I live a very comfortable, calm life, filled with loving people in a terrific community that would jump to serve, protect or help at the first sound of an emergency.
I am grateful for God’s provision in my life and I pray that I honor Him with my choices.