<*dv_5*>I was pretty surprised to get a jury summons. The whole of the electoral role to choose from and my name comes up. What are the odds on that? It means two weeks off work though and I am abotu to argue with that.
I arrive at the court. As jurors we have our own special room, essentially a glorified doctors waiting room. In the cloakroom there is a notice warning that the court will not be held responsible for thefts of property left here. It seems that even here I am not safe from crime.
As a new juror I am shown a video about what will happen in court and what I am expected to do. There is a montage sequence and a burst of up-tempo piano music - a judge bangs his gavel, bewigged barristers point dramatically and a defendant leaps over the dock shouting, Youll never take me alive copper!! OK, maybe it didnt happen quite like that but there was some mildly dramatic ivory tinkling. The jury officer wraps up the presentation, struggling with her English she reminds us not to talk about the trial with anyone otherwise the panel, they is very heavy. As nefarious threats go, it is suitably oblique.
<*dv_3*> One thing they dont warn you about is the endless waiting. Being British everyone sits in silence. Naturally I dont speak to anyone. I contrive an air of aloof superiority. Better that people think you dont want to talk to them, rather than you dont know where to start.
<*dv_0*> As the week goes on people begin to chat in ones and twos. A particularly aggravating trio of women have formed. I can never hear a word of what is said but the silence is regularly punctuated by the sound of the oldest womens cackling laugh. I try to concentrate on my book but it is the only sound in the room. Just shut the fuck up! I want to scream. Instead I sit quietly and seethe.
One day the sound of random shouts and screams can be clearly heard coming from the court below. It sounds like a riot has broken out. However it fades after a few seconds. This is about as close to any excitement as I get. I manage to read 163 pages of my book in one sitting. I think about starting a conversation with the women next to me. She seems to sense what I am about to do and rapidly heads off to the vending machine.
For obvious reasons the courts do not want the jurors mixing with the defendants and witnesses who are in the building so there is a canteen just for us. The food is awful. There are three options every day and one of them is always sausage, chips and beans. An unidentifiable brown sludge is optimistically called Hungarian Goulash. Its the kind of slop you would expect to find served in prison. Perhaps its deliberate, to make you appreciate the gravity of sending someone there.
Whether you are a witness, juror or court clerk everyone swears an oath either to tell the truth, weigh the evidence as best they can or to not influence the jury in their deliberations. Seated in the jury box I wait to be sworn in. The bible is passed down the line as each person takes it in turns to swear to almighty God. I am the last to go. I chose to affirm, which means that I merely promise to do my duty as best I can. Am I really the only atheist on this jury? Or have I chanced upon the most God fearing jury in Christendom?
In my next trial I am the fourth to be sworn. Prior to me everyone has sworn on the bible, after me all but one of the remaining seven jurors chose to affirm. Is this a coincidence? Or are people too intimidated or too lazy about to stand by their principles? Surely the whole point of having a jury is that we are twelve independent minds and not a bunch of mindless sheep.
This farce is not confined to the jury. As witnesses come to the dock to be sworn in they are asked what religion they are. For some this seems the hardest question they have to deal with. Church of England? asks one witness hoping to be told theyd answered correctly. The courts working assumption is that you are of one faith or another. But in an increasingly secular society surely the assumption should be that you have none.
<*dv_2*> One thing I wasnt expecting as a juror was the pressure. It is not particularly intense but it is there nevertheless. On TV and in films the important evidence is sound tracked with dramatic music to indicate this is significant. I found myself painstakingly noting down seemingly important details such as had knife in left pocket, or visits sisters three to four times a week hoping that I hadnt missed anything of vital importance.
<*dv_4*> On TV barristers get to say things like If you could confine yourself to the question Mr Thompson. However, in reality barristers do not seemed to be allowed to interrupt a witness so we frequently treated to rambling digressions on the lives of the people involved. In my first case person A was said to have attacked person B with a rounders bat. Person A at the time was going out with a woman who had been having an on/off relationship with person B. Person A had a child with this women way back before she had ever met person B. I got to hear how this woman was a junkie and sometime prostitute. I got to hear how she has five different kids by five different fathers. I get to hear how person B has a string of convictions for violent offences including holding an air pistol to his sons head and threatening to shoot him. I get to hear all the squalid details of their squalid lives none of which seem to have anything to do with what I have to decide. I am filled with an overwhelming sense of despair and depression. These people sully the magnificent concepts of the justice system. That you are innocent until proven guilty, that a jury of your peers will judge you. And the result is that I have to sift through the trash of these peoples lives.
<*dv_1*> The first witness for the prosecution is a man in his mid thirties who speaks rapidly with a strong Jamaican accent, the only intelligible words of which are frequent Ya geddin me? The judge seems to be straight out of central casting. He has that air of middle aged, middle class, avuncular geniality that has become a court drama clich. Smiling broadly he interrupts the witness and asks him to speak more slowly so that we can all make notes. The judge beams contentedly at the rest of the court, its as if this is all being put on for his personal amusement.
Thankfully, this case collapsed. As did another that I was allocated to. In the end I only had to deliberate on one trial and that turned out to be more than enough for me. After two days of evidence we retired to consider our verdict. A quick show of hands revealed that nine of us thought not guilty with 3 in favour of guilty. Here I learnt what a lottery trial by jury is. Of the three guilty verdicts, one man had completely misunderstood the facts of the case. One woman chose to dismiss out of hand the evidence of two witnesses on her gut feeling despite the fact that there was not one reason to disbelieve anything that they had said. Another was basing her verdict entirely the fact she thought the defendant was a lousy father rather than on whether he had actually committed the offence. Thats not to imply that the motives and rationale of the not guilty camp were completely pure. One man seemed to basing his vote on the fact he was unhappy at finding someone guilty in his last case and was looking to try and salve his conscious. With several strong characters in the room on opposing sides of the discussion the atmosphere swiftly degenerated. Two bruising hours later, we reached a verdict on which we were all agreed. Though, if you ask me, the constant haranguing and the incentive of finishing in time for lunch had more to do with changing hearts and minds than any weighing of the evidence.
I cant help but wonder that perhaps the strongest crime deterrent would be to simply reveal how juries reach their decisions. Who in their right mind would then want to run the risk of ending up in court?
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