Jury Duty. An anathma to justice.
The case. A latina woman in her middle forties or early fifties was shot to death in her living room by the police. Her husband, daughter, and brother are suing for wrongful death against the city and the policeman involved. The case was scheduled to last about fifteen court days, or all the month of April, and possibly be extended into the first week of May. There was a gag order in place.
The attorneys had the prospective jurors fill out a thirty page questionnaire. The questions began with place of birth, where you grew up, your educational background and if you spoke or understood Spanish. They then proceeded on to attitudes and opinions about the police and the latino community. One particularly odd question was, who are your heros in history?
In the court room, the visitors gallery was filled to capacity with about sixty-five prospective jurors and the surviving family members. I was seated in the second row, immediately behind the family. The family members appeared to be middle-working class, in their late forties or early fifties. The daughter was in her twenties, the grand mother was in her late sixties or early seventies, and the granddaughter was perhaps five or six.
The judge was just concluding her instructions and was asking the court attendant to seat the first fifteen in the jury panel, when both defendant and plaintiff attorneys interrupted the judge to ask her to hear their preemptive challenges. She stopped and said, yes of course, come forward. Both sides wished to excuse Mr. Grimes.
I almost burst out laughing, because the attorneys had practically leaped out of their chairs to get to the judge first with the name Grimes on their lips.
Chuck Grimes