I served for five days on a jury and never, ever want to do it again for as long as I live.
Mind you, I have developed a strong dislike for the prospect of jury duty over the years particularly the day and a half I spent on Court Street in Lower Manhattan in the fall of 2019. Yet even that experience could not have prepared me for what I endured at the John J. Moakley United States Courthouse in Boston last week and this week.
I should have known what I was in for on the morning of my first day of service. Prospective jurors were instructed to arrive at court by 8 a.m. I caught the Red Line at Porter Square at 7:03 a.m. It took 50 minutes to travel a single stop to Harvard Square.
In 20 plus years I've lived in Boston and in Cambridge, disabled trains have been a fact of life on the T. However, the morning that I needed to be in federal court was the first time I had ever been on a disabled train. Our car was nearly pitch black and our train had to be pushed into the station by another train.
You know things are bad when people in Boston begin talking to each other on the T. Even the homeless guy sleeping at the end of car woke up and asked what was happening. When I said, "Well.....,", the car erupted in laughter. Fortunately, there was a woman a few seats to my right who mentioned she was going to take Uber into the Seaport District and she was nice enough to allow me to join her on the ride at no charge.
Naturally, I was afraid I would be castigated by the court officers for being late. However, this did not come to pass. Before I go further, I should mention a couple distinctions between federal and state court. One cannot defer a federal jury summons. In Massachusetts, you can defer for a year. In New York, you can defer for 2 to 6 months. But when the feds are involved, you go when you are summoned. Unlike state court, one cannot bring electronic equipment into the courthouse. This meant that I had to power down and check in my phone at the front desk.
The one area where federal and state courts are in sync are the propaganda videos which tell you that jury service is among the most rewarding things you can do with your life. I can assure you it isn't, but I will elaborate later.
My first day in court was devoted to jury selection. In state court, jurors are called incrementally. In federal court, at least with this presiding judge, all jurors were told to report to one of the courtrooms upstairs where a jury was being selected for a felony drug charge. Once the judge introduced the government attorneys, the defense attorneys, court personnel as well as the defendant, we were instructed to wait in a courtroom next door. There were approximately 65 prospective jurors, and the judge saw fit to interview nearly all of us. This process took nearly the entire day. I suspect the process would have been speedier had a more incremental approach had been followed.
This might have been alright had I been excluded from service, but this was not to be. I was one of 14 people named to the jury. After we were selected, the government and defense made their opening arguments before the judge recessed for the day.
On Day 2, the government made its case against the defendant and called two witnesses, both with the DEA. The first DEA official was a scientist and the second was the agent in charge of the case. Now some judges will run their trials from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. while other judges will run their trials from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. The judge in this case ran on the latter scheduled and called a recess while the defense attorney was cross-examining the DEA agent.
I should mention here that jurors are provided with notebooks and can take down as many or as few notes as we see fit. The reason I mention this is because after we were recessed for the day one of the jurors who sat behind me in the jury box approached me and took me to task for what he thought was excessive note taking on my part. He accused me of not paying attention claiming I would miss crucial information. I thought this highly improper and emailed the judge's clerk to inform her of what had happened.
On Day 3, before court resumed, I was called in to see the judge regarding my email. The judge decided to allow me and any other member of the jury to sit wherever we saw fit. I was originally sitting in the front row and moved to the very last seat in the back row which had the effect of keeping me apart from the rest of the jury. In some ways, it would foreshadow what was to come.
However, this day was relatively short as the government concluded it case calling one more witness, a detective from the Melrose Police Department who was assisting a federal DEA task force concerning fentanyl (the substance which the defendant was accused of possessing and distributing). The government rested and the defense rested without putting on a case of its own. The day was over by 11 a.m.
In my case, this meant I could go back to work as the courthouse is just down the street from my office. But before I went to work, I went into the Holiday Market across the street and bought myself a vegan hot chocolate with coconut whipped cream.
Day 4 was devoted to closing arguments and the beginning of jury deliberations. This proved to be a much longer day on a number of levels. Initially, we were split down the middle as to whether the defendant was guilty or not guilty. Unfortunately, the jurors made no secret about wanting to end the proceedings quickly and several jurors suddenly switched their vote to guilty. It would not be long before I was the only juror who was not prepared to convict.
I had trouble with the government's case. My main objection was the DEA threw out crucial evidence. While some of my fellow jurors acknowledged this was a mistake, it did not affect their guilty vote. Again, they just wanted to get home. But I was not sold. Jurors are given the discretion to set their own hours. By 2 p.m., the impasse was still not resolved. The judge was notified, and we were sent back into court and asked resume deliberations on Monday.
Amid this, I had gone to the Brattle Theatre to see When Harry Met Sally in tribute to Rob Reiner while also attending several Robert Redford films (more on those in a post coming soon). This was helpful but it did not entirely allay my anxiety. On Saturday afternoon, during an appointment with my eye doctor, I suffered a panic attack. My chest felt heavy and I was overheating. Fortunately, the optometrist saw what was wrong and was able to help calm me down. We will do a second exam at no charge sometime in the new year. But jury duty still hung over my head.
Before beginning Day 5 there would be further developments. Although 14 jurors were chosen, 2 were selected as alternates and they were not involved in the deliberations on Day 4. However, two jurors became ill over the weekend and both alternates were summoned. The judge notified us that our deliberations had begun anew.
Although one of the two new jurors initially voted not guilty, he was quickly swayed to the guilty side which once again left me as the holdout. Alas, Henry Fonda I am not. I wish I could have been more persuasive. Unfortunately, the 11 guilty votes were not amenable to reason or compromise. Mind you, I didn't necessarily believe the defendant was factually innocent. However, a jury is not required to arrive at the conclusion. They need only have a reasonable doubt. Yet the rest of the jury did not believe my doubt was reasonable.
In the early afternoon, the jury foreperson had enough and decided to inform the judge we were deadlocked. After this had happened, two of the jurors saw fit to levy personal attacks. One of the female jurors said I was wasting the court's time, had undermined the work of the attorneys on both side and putting the family of the defendant under unnecessary stress. Mind you, this juror was foaming at the mouth to convict. The notion that she cared about the defendant's family was laughable. The only thing I said in response was that her comments were unhelpful. I wanted to say more but had I said more I would have likely said things I could not take back.
A second juror, the same juror who had admonished me for excessive notetaking, made the case by not convicting the person that I made him vulnerable to ICE. It should be mentioned the defendant was a Dominican. The idea that I am going to convict someone of a crime based on their national origin so as to protect them from ICE as abominable and cruel as ICE's practices.
A short time later, a rather large imposing bailiff came into the room and said in a menacing manner, "The judge wants to see you!!!" From this, I had a feeling the judge wasn't going to accept our decision and order us to resume deliberations, and this is exactly what happened.
Although the judge did not rule out the possibility that we would be able to reach decision, she very strongly discouraged it. Alas, there was 11 of them and only one of me. To be fair, one of the jurors broke down the case step by step to see where we were in agreement and disagreement. For the most part, I was in agreement with the other 11 jurors. I did not discount the possibility that a drug transaction had taken place. I just didn't want to send someone to prison unless I was absolutely sure.
After taking a deep dive into the videotaped and pictorial evidence along with statements from the defendant after he was taken into custody, I concluded he was guilty, but I am still not 100% sure that he is. 90% perhaps, maybe 95% but not 100%. Yet like all of the other jurors, I had to carry on with my life. I needed to have stitches removed my mouth from a dental procedure earlier this month and if I didn't get it done that day, I would have to wait until the new year when I have a new insurance provider to do so which could have cost me deep in the purse.
The defendant may very well be guilty. The defendant told police he could name names. Yet such a statement was made under duress. I was certainly under duress in being pressured to render a guilty verdict. I could only imagine what I might say if I were in his shoes. Even if the defendant is indeed guilty of the crime for which I helped convict him for, I am not proud of myself. Not one bit.
After the verdict, a couple of the jurors thanked me for listening to the evidence. While I politely acknowledged their thanks, I know full well they would not have been so kind if I hadn't joined them in finding the defendant guilty.
With that, I hope to hell that I am never accused of a crime and am brought to trial in either a state or a federal court. Should such a thing come to pass, however, I will insist on a bench trial. I am not prepared to hand my life to people who do not want to be in that jury room and are looking for the easiest way out of their predicament. It isn't to say a judge couldn't make a mistake, but a judge is at least a professional who is prepared to exercise diligence and take time to examine both the facts and the law without 11 other people breathing down his or her neck. I do not have any such confidence in a jury.
No doubt you may find it amusing that I have been summoned to state court next month for jury service. However, my five days of jury service ought to excuse me from this obligation. I have been in touch with the Massachusetts Office of the Jury Commissioner. As long as I furnish the necessary paperwork by email, I will be relieved in more ways than one.
Of course, I am bound to receive more summons in the years which follow. Should I be fortunate enough to live until I am 70, then I am free to decline jury service altogether. Until then I will have to depend on the mercy of the court. I can only hope the court shows me more mercy than I showed to the defendant.
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