Actually, grand jury is not that grand

So, happily, my civic duty has come to an end.  For at least the next eight years, I should say.  Hurrah!  I have to admit that this was one of the longest months of my life.  I thought I would find the process interesting and enjoyable, but I didn't.  It angered me, it depressed me.  It caused nightmares, it made me reconsider the safety of where I live.  It sucked the life out of me and made my brain hurt.  It made me cry.  I feel as if I've lost my faith in humanity, and, occasionally, I even questioned my will to live.  Yes, grand jury was not that grand for me.  I will share some of my experiences.  Well, not the secret parts.  I would hate to be arrested and then have to go BACK to that courthouse. 
 
First, I have to start with the security line.  Now, I completely understand why everyone needs to go through a security line before getting into a courthouse.  Truly.  And the photo on the left?  That's a perfectly reasonable line that took about 20 minutes to get through.  Not a problem.  The photo on the right?  That line took about an hour to get through, and it started off outside in the subzero temperatures.  That IS a problem. 

Certain days of the week at the courthouse are busier than others.  Therefore, hello, on the busier days, they should open more lines earlier.  The doors open at 8:30, grand jury starts at 9:30.  They generally started with two security lines open and then, maybe, they would open a third around 9.  And if the line was still down the street, they might open a fourth.  Wouldn't it make more sense to START with four lines?  Keep everyone moving, and out of the cold.  After the crowd tapers down, then go down to three, then two lines.  It's just crazy.  Even one of the security guards was wondering why more lines weren't open.  And don't even get me started on having to do the line AGAIN when you come back from your security-line-shortened lunch break...

 

But you know what?  Now that I think about it, I actually think it's crazy to make the grand jurors stand in that line.  There should be a separate line for grand jurors.  They give us ID, we should be able to enter through the same security line as the attorneys and employees.  It makes NO sense whatsoever for us to stand in that long line, alongside people who may be testifying inside our jury room later that day.  What if I were on the phone talking about my neighborhood?  (not that I would, but play along)  And then a witness heard me talking about my neighborhood.  And that witness stood behind me in line for an hour.  They would really KNOW what I look like and could find me.  Paranoid?  Probably.  Possible?  Absolutely.  The system could do so much more to make fulfilling our civic duty more comfortable and, if not enjoyable, endurable and non-threatening.

 

Our court officers were lovely - they kept things light and fun (well, as light and fun as they could) and it was much appreciated.  I can't even imagine having to deal with a power hungry court officer all day, every day.  It's bad enough listening to case after case after case (especially when one ADA sounded like The Nanny), hearing about awful people doing awful things, but actually having to work with awful people?  That probably would've driven me right over the edge.  I mean, when you get 23 people in a room, it's a crap shoot about how well they're going to mesh.  Luckily, we overall had a pleasant group, with a good sense of humor and a healthy sense of perspective about the whole thing.  We took our job seriously and tried to do it to the best of our abilities.  Yes, there was one person who worked my last nerve, but, I guess, on the whole, I was fortunate there weren't 22 just like that one person. 

 

Thankfully, I found a coffee shop that was about a ten minute walk away from the courthouse and I ate lunch there almost every day.  It was quiet, it was cheap, and no one else on the jury liked walking that far for lunch, so I could get a little alone time.  I think that's how I kept my tenuous grip on my sanity.

 

I think twenty days is too long for grand jury duty.  (I only served seventeen, because of the federal holidays, but still...)   These days are so draining, and some of the cases so depressing, it's just not right to make people sit there for that long.  Would it hurt to seat more grand juries during each term and make each term ten days instead?  I don't know.  I'm not exaggerating when I say that some evenings I went to bed at 7:30 or 8pm, because I was that exhausted from the day.  Not on the days they kept us there until 8:30, of course, which is another whole blog post entirely.

 

Because I'm me, I put together some statistics from my term.  I don't think there's anything secret in here:

 

• the most cases we heard in one day:  13
• the least cases we heard in one day:  3
• the number of times the biggest and hardest case came in:  11
• the number of times we had DNA explained to us by an expert:  6
• the number of times we had guns/bullets explained to us by an expert:  5
• the total number of cases heard:  39
• the total number of times the A.D.A.s came in with those cases:  82
• the case of shortest duration:  17 minutes
• the case of longest duration:  I stopped counting at 6.5 hours
• the number of love connections started:  I think only one
• the books I read/started during the term:  Gone with the Wind, The Bucolic Plague
• the tv shows I watched during the term:  the Smash season two premiere and part of Downton Abbey, season one
• the movies I watched during the term:  Ballerina, Mao's Last Dancer, First Position
• the nightmares I had:  snipers shooting at me through my living room apartment, being stabbed with a knife on the subway, running into a defendant in my neighborhood

I don't know, maybe I didn't have the right sense of perspective about the whole thing.  Maybe I wasn't supposed to take it so much to heart.  Maybe the act of writing everything down (as secretary) just burned the stuff into my brain far more than it would have otherwise.  All I know is I was extremely depressed and unhappy during my term of civic duty.  I am also crabby about breaking my pen on the last day.  I mean, I used that pen for seventeen days straight, writing up case after case after case.  After it was all over, I was putting it into my handbag so I could leave the room for the last time, and SNAP.  Broken pen.  Perhaps that's a metaphor.  Hmmmmm.

 

Here are some more atmospheric photos I got during my term.  Well, as atmospheric as the neighborhood around a courthouse can be.  Fingers crossed this post won't get me in trouble, and apologies to all my friends and co-workers who listened to me rail, complain, sob and basically act like a crazy person over the last month.  I appreciate your talking me off the metaphoric ledge...