Day 1: A dark and stormy morning

I arrived at the court house bright and early Monday morning, March the 17th. Well, not so bright actually, as it was raining not only cats and dogs, but the entire pet store.

It was certainly early though, especially when one considers my peers were no doubt still slumbering in a tropical paradise.

The jury pool is located in the basement, (some call it the dungeon), of the court house. I was forewarned that there would be a line. There’s always a line, after all. But given I had arrived while roosters were still asleep, I fully expected to be near the front.

Of course I was wrong. The line in fact stretched so far back I wasn’t sure where it started and where it stopped.

I made my trek towards the back, taking in my fellow jurors. Those that showed expression looked irritated, though there were a few vibrant ones. Some looked like they knew there way around a court room, though not from the jury bench, if you catch my drift. I was most surprised by how many people my own age were present, some even younger. They aren’t kidding when they say “a jury of your peers”.

Dressed in my Monday best, I wore an old pair of khakis from high school (they still fit!), and a green polo, given it was St. Patrick’s Day. It wasn’t like I was going to church or anything, but I figured you should look your best for your day in court.

And I didn’t want to get pinched either, given the looks of some of these folks.

There wasn’t much talking in the line. Court house employees breezed passed us as if we weren’t there, a typical Monday morning for them I’m sure.

Each new person who came in felt compelled to say something clever about the line. One man said it was “…Like a cattle call!” followed later by a woman who proclaimed ours “The longest line in history!”

Thankfully the line moved surprisingly fast. I was starting to get concerned that something was eating the people in front. After a brisk 5 minutes I saw we were headed towards two glass doors, each ominously saying “Jurors Only” in solid black lettering.

At the head of the line was a table with two ladies dressed in green (I guess I wasn’t the only one) signing in the jurors. When my turn came up both were charming and friendly, a pleasantry on a dreary morning.

Both thought they recognized me, but I informed them that I just had one of those faces. I then found a seat, a task in and of itself, and read the little jury instruction booklet they give you.

Not much time had passed before one of the ladies grabbed a microphone and introduced herself as the court clerk, Sally Howe Smith. We got a brief introduction on the importance of the jury duty and our role in it.

Ever cordial, she opened up with a cheery “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya’!” and then confided to us that she comes from a family that celebrates every holiday, most especially St. Pat’s. Sounds a lot like my family.

Now, for one who’s never been there, the Jury Pool can best be described as a huge waiting room.

Tables are scattered about the place, and the walls are surrounded by chairs. If you were lucky, (or early), you got one of the 7 turquoise vinyl couches. There was even a ping-pong table, though it went mostly unused during my stay.

But as big as it was, just about every seat was filled. All 289 of us, cramped together like a bunch of sardines. Sardines practicing their civic duty.

The whole thing was “A little overwhelming at first.”, as Stephanie Lewis, a City of Tulsa employee and fellow juror put it. She was right.

I had gotten so wrapped up in the experience that I hadn’t really thought of what a great responsibility the juror job has. As the little booklet says, Jurors must not form conclusions until they have heard all evidence and have received the instructions of the court on the law.

Ms. Lewis summed it up well; “The verdict is in the juror’s hands, so you’re affecting the outcome. It’s in your hands”.

I was taking everything in stride. At the risk of sounding like a nerd, I was kind of looking forward to getting seated. Makes for a good story.

And so I sat there, like a good sardine, waiting patiently for my turn.

The first call was around 10:00a.m. I sat up in my chair, spring-loaded, ready for action, ready to adjudicate. The bailiff announced the case would be civil. Well, I wanted a criminal, but this was fine.

Carlene Tallent, the Jury Coordinator, began shaking a big box and then drawing names out. Tension mounting, I sat in suspense, waiting for my name.

Five names down and nary a mention of yours truly. Then ten. Fifteen down. Then…they left. Without me. Oh well, I was enjoying my book, anyway.

Little did I know then that I would be enjoying my book for the remainder of the day. Four more bailiffs in, four more bailiffs out, each one of them without me.

It appeared my chance at being an immersive reporter would have to wait a day…