In grade school I never wanted to be the one to pick teams. I was afraid of hurting someone’s feelings. It’s ridiculous, I know. I like to get along. I like to see people succeed. I’ve never wanted to be the arbiter of someone’s else’s happiness. That responsibility scares me.
Monday morning, I was selected as a jury member for a federal trial. It was my first time doing this. I was one of eleven others who would decide the fate of the parties in front of me, and I was nervous. The judge told us that while his title was judge, we were being asked to be “judges of the truth.” I know myself and my flaws all too well. Amongst other things, I can be terribly gullible. I’m not sure I’m qualified to be a judge of the truth. However, by nine o’clock Monday morning, my fellow jurors and I were evaluating arguments.
What I saw didn’t help me become less nervous. The solemnity of the proceedings can most closely be related to a religious service. Lots of quiet. Lots of honorifics amongst staff and colleagues. Lots of silence as the parties gathered to whisper like priests at an altar. Whenever my jury colleagues and I entered or exited the courtroom, everyone stood. It all signaled that this was serious stuff, and as the details of the case became clear, I realized that we, the jury, would render a decision that could eventually lead to the ruin of either of these parties.
Desperation appears in the courtroom. To get a win, both parties will bring up things from each other’s past that are deeply regrettable but clearly documented. Anything a witness had hoped was lost to time is now back, being wagged in front of the jury, attorneys painfully drawing out the story and the explanation, people at their weakest. If the judge felt the content was prudent, it was discussed. If not, he firmly shut it down. Embarrassment and shame were left out of his decision to let the content be aired or not. No one was berated but the questioning was, well, very thorough.
Fortunately for us the decision was an easy one and the jury was of one mind shortly after we began deliberating. Neither plaintiff nor defendant appeared surprised. We were thanked and dismissed. I don’t know what happened after that. Both parties stood as we walked out, no TV like celebrations or hugs and kisses between the victorious attorneys and their client. It was simply over. In a few weeks, I’m to receive payment of one hundred dollars for two days of my time and a decision that may well lead to ruin of the losing party.
I did my service. I had to. I would have broken the law had I not. The verdict was easy, thankfully, but I was uncomfortable the whole time. Doing my best to track the arguments and be a “judge of the truth.” I’ve seen a trial now, and I can honestly say I hope I never have to be the judge of someone else’s future ever again.
I’m Cam Marston, and I’m just Trying to Keep it Real.
