A Letter from the Court

by Pa Rock

A Great Listener

 

I pulled a really bonehead traffic move while on my roadtrip out west this past June, one which I strongly suspect was filmed by a traffic cam, and I have been quietly expecting some sort of communication from that state for the past two months, an official envelope containing a ticket, or worse yet, a summons.  (My indiscretion at the wheel did not involve an accident or damage to property or any personal injuries.  In fact, no other drivers or vehicles were involved in any manner - just me trying to get turned around on an interstate at a place where it could have been allowed, but probably wasn't.)

But it has been two months, and each day I feel a little less nervous as I slowly pull open the door to my country lane mailbox.  Maybe I dodged the bullet.

Earlier this week my nervousness and paranoia amped back up when I opened the mailbox late in the afternoon and saw a very official looking letter addressed to me on top of my usual daily pile of junk mail from people trying to sell me storm guttering, dual-paned windows, or hearing aids.  I noticed the word "Court" displayed prominently on the envelope's return address, and that was enough for me.  I stuffed the government missive into the pile of junk mail and carried it back into the house where I could learn my fate in a more comfortable and private setting.  

A few minutes later after seating myself on the couch with a fresh bottle of cold water and my checkbook at the ready, I pulled the letter from the junk mail and proceeded to inspect it.  I breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that it was not from the state where I had committed my questionable turn, but rahter had been generated in district branch of the federal court - but that, too, was a bit nerve-wracking.   I opened the envelope and learned that my name had been drawn from local voter rolls as a potential juror.   I was being considered for a future spot as a jury member on some federal court case.

The letter directed me to a web sight with an eligibility questionnaire that wanted to learn or verify information like my citizenship status, contact information, length of time at my current address and in the state, and any known disqualifiers from serving on a jury.  Most were yes/no questions or things where a box could be checked, but there were a couple of places where the potential juror could enter brief comments.

I didn't try to find a way to weasel out of the selection process because I'm old and don't work, and going to Springfield to serve on a jury would be an interesting break in my normal routine.  There was one item on the survey that might have provided an escape hatch - a question asking if the respondent was over seventy (which I am), was there anything about serving on a jury that would impact my health or safety?  My answer was "no."

I doubt that I would ever be chosen to serve on a jury because I am opinionated about many things, but it is nice to at least finally be considered for service in that aspect of a democratic society.  My father was called to serve on a coroner's jury when I was very young.  A local high school boy had died in a car crash at a notoriously dangerous spot on one of our local roads, and the coroner called hs group of jurors in to view the body and watch the coroner point to the various injuries that contributed to the boy's death.  Dad talked about that experience for many years.

As a former state child protection worker, I have testified in quite a few court cases where I hoped that the jurors were really following the important things that I had to say, but this would be my first opportunity to be an official listener and one of the deciders.

I think I would like to do that.

Choose me!  Choose me!