I was summoned to serve jury duty as a petit juror for the Circuit Court in Anne Arundel County. Starting last Tuesday, I was on call. Out of 1,569 prospective jurors, I was number 1,531. When I called on Monday evening I learned that I wasn’t to come in until Thursday morning.
Per the recommendation of a friend with numerous experiences as a juror, I arrived at the Whitmore Parking Garage around 7:30. Easily finding a nice end-of-row space, I took my time walking the two blocks to the court house. After a quick x-ray of my bag and a walk through the metal detector, I checked in with the bailiff, collected my $15 expense money, and got my parking validated.
After reading my book for fifteen minutes, a bailiff took his place at the podium a few minutes after 8 o’clock and gave us the rundown on what to expect. We watched a brief orientation video (WMV) and heard from the juror coordinator (and also the voice on the call-in service). We were then excused for 20 minutes, until 8:40. I walked down to the 1st floor cafeteria and got a sausage, egg and cheese sandwich. When I returned to the juror room, I sat down in the front row and got back into my book.
At some point, a woman walked in and asked if any of us were afraid of dogs. A bomb-sniffing dog was to come through and practice, attempting to locate a red toy that the woman was holding. No one had any objections, so she hid the toy in one of the bags of the people in the front row. The K9 handler — dressed in full tactical gear — brought the two year old dog in, ears perked and full of energy. He sniffed the podium legs, the interior, the bottoms of the flags that were standing draped near the wall, the trash can, and a cursory run by us on the front row. The toy was concealed from view and didn’t appear to have any peanut butter in it, so I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find it. The handler wasn’t concerned, saying “he’s better at finding bombs than toys.” With the dog seated in front of him, he took a live pistol magazine from his belt holder and handed it to the woman behind his back. Taking the dog a few feet down the corner, the woman placed the magazine on top of the podium in the center of the room, well out of view of the dog. The dog came back around, re-inspecting the area. When he got to the podium, he didn’t look up, jump, or bark. He quietly took a seat directly behind the podium and gazed up at his handler in quiet affirmation. I thought that was pretty smooth and clever indicator, not attracting attention or causing a panic.
At 9:05 a bailiff returned to the podium and started calling out names one at a time, each person responding with a one-up number. When my name was called, I replied “eighteen.” The thirty of us got up and walked down to court room 3C, each taking a seat in the back. The Judge explained the broad strokes of the case and that the trial was expected to take two days. The short version is that someone was suing the county as a result of falling into a pot hole in Severna Park. He then asked a series of questions.
- Is anyone familiar with the area of the alleged incident?
- Have you or any of your family been sued or sued someone else?
- Do you or any of your family work in the paving or road construction industry?
- Do you or any of your family work in the medical industry?
- Do you or any of your family work in orthopedic industry?
- Have you or any of your family sustained a knee injury?
- Do you work for the county?
- Do you have any preconceived notions of personal injury suits?
When we answered in the affirmative, we’d stand and go up individually to explain to the Judge and the counsel. I had to go up for two of the questions (working for the county and for the lawsuit question), but in neither case did I think that my circumstances would impact my impartiality. A few people were excused immediately after speaking to the Judge, immediately returning to the waiting room.
Everyone got a chuckle when the Judge asked if anyone had preconceived notions of pot holes. We laughed, but no one stood. I wasn’t sure if he was being serious; who doesn’t have an opinion about pot holes?
After the lawyers made their notes about us, they provided them to the bailiff who handed them to the clerk. Six jurors and one alternate were selected. I wasn’t one of them, so we all headed back to the waiting room. We arrived back right around 10 o’clock.
At 10:30, the bailiff came to the podium and excused all of us. Except for the seven people seated on that one trial, none of us would be needed again today. When I called to check-in Thursday night, we weren’t needed. The same on Friday night. So in short, my week-long obligation took less than three hours. Very anti-climatic.
Looking back to voir dire, I was on the fence about the last question. At the time I thought that I’d be able to remain relatively impartial. And let’s face it, no one can be entirely impartial. The plaintiff may have had a case. It may have been about how the county’s previous treatment of the case was unsatisfactory. But at first glance, it looked suspicious to file suit several years after an accident involving a pot hole. If lots of other people can navigate the streets of Severna Park without falling into a pot hole, what makes the plaintiff so special? There would have to be pretty compelling evidence to convince me that the plaintiff should be compensated for not paying attention, and so it’s probably a good thing that I didn’t get selected.
