``Do I dare ask what Chuck put down for his Heroes of History?'' Kevin Dean
``Chuck: Please relate your key to success. I have practically begged to be excused from jury duty, ...'' Leo Casey
------------
Just tell the truth Leo, like you are ordered to do, under penalty of perjury---except include the whole truth, get it? My whole truth involves an absolute hostility to the State. It's not even political any more---just irrational guts and chemistry.
The questionnaire was exhaustive and intrusive in the extreme.
What do you do for a living, what is your education background, have you ever been arrested, what charges, have you ever been handcuffed, have you ever sat in the back seat of a patrol car, have you ever been to jail, are you married, divorce, single, what does your wife do for a living, does she work in a city or county agency, do you have children, what are their names, ages, are they living with you, if not where to do they reside, what do they do for a living, do they go to school, do you think the police are hindered by the threat of law suits, have you or any member of your immediate family ever had a bad experience with the police, do you think the police do a good job, a fair job, a poor job, or the best they can under the circumstances, do you have a favorable impression of the latino community, do you have contact with the latino community, do you speak Spanish, do you think law suits in general result in judgments that are too high, too low, or about right, do you watch the tv show Cops, what are your favorite tv shows, have you heard of this case in the news, who are your heros from history.... And on and, and on and on, like that for thirty pages.
I was already pissed when I got there (a thirty mile drive to Hayward--at the butt end of Alameda County) and sat around for three hours with about a hundred other people. Of the three black guys in my immediate field of vision in the jury assembly room, two were called by the clerk's office and left, never to be seen again. Probably bench warrants---that's just the way my white mind works---in perfect sync with the racist system itself. Sure it could have been a co-incidence, but somehow I don't think so. Nobody else was called. And after that, I looked around and saw very few black people, two or three women dotted here and there---a very distinct minority in a county that must be 30-50 percent black. Jury subpoena lists are generated from voter registration and driver license lists. There has got to be some interesting sociology in there somewhere.
I was tempted to answer that my heros in history were Karl Marx and Emiliano Zapata---which isn't really true. But then I decided it was none of the state's business or a matter for public record who my heros were, especially not under a court order to answer. The fact is I don't have any heros, except maybe Caravaggio di Mirsi, a murderer, but also the best Italian painter of the early 17th C. So what I answered was, `none of your business'. And just to cement my fate, on some question about my opinion of the police, I wrote, `I do not like the police, and I do not trust what they say.'
Absolute truth, Leo, that's the ticket.
I think that last one is what got the defense counselor out of his seat like a shot this morning. The other attorney looked at me long and hard during roll call, and of course I returned his stare. Whatever he was thinking, my look must have been enough to make him leap almost simultaneously, waving his copy of the questionnaire as he quickly skipped up to her majesty to plead that the dark one should be shunned from these proceedings of truth, light, and justice. I was apparently the only preemptive challenge in advance.
To the question of my contact with latinos in general, I answered I had lived in Guadalajara as a child. But to the question of my impressions of the latino community, I answered, `I do not understand this question.' Which is true. Which latino community: the one in California from before statehood, or in Berkeley, San Jose, Los Angeles, the Valley, made up of people from where, from here, or Mexico or Central America, or Brazil, Columbia, Peru, Argentina, etc.---which latino community and what part, the cuisines, styles, manners, speech, accents, graphic arts, music, cars, women (young or old?), or all the confused mix of identities, politics, religion---like exactly what do you mean? They didn't want to discuss Octavio Paz did they?
I had a very strong reaction against the entire pretense of the courts, from the wording of the subpoena, you are herby ordered to report..., the fee parking, the metal detectors, searches, right on down the line to the overly dressed bourgeois attorneys, the transparent probing quality of the lengthy questionnaire, and the commanding presence of the judge sitting on her dais in all her fat comfortable frumpiness. It all reeked of the illegitimacy of power, domination, control, and authority.
The oppressiveness of the state, even in its tacky demeanor in fort Hayward is hateful. That it is almost always used against the people, and almost never for the people, nullifies its claim to represent the people's interest or to claim the balance of justice.
It probably sounds impossibly naive, but when the high court ruled with the explicit intention of defaulting the electoral vote to George W, barely three months ago, it erased the last trace of ethical facade to the entire court system below it. That was a profound breach. It was the end of something, at least in my mind---I suppose the childish belief that there was always some basis for law beyond the arbitrary will of those who rule. So, if absolute power will out, so will absolute revolt.
Meanwhile I was looking at a heavy steel door with a lock and lever handle, painted brown to blend in with the fake wood paneling. Since this was civil court, it was rarely used. It was over to my left, next to the court attendant's desk. Ah, yes, there it is, the door that opens to the brightly lighted room that leads to the brightly lighted corridor beyond that leads down back stairs, and off to ... miles and miles of an endless and labyrinthine archipelago---where millions live hidden away, behind heavy screens, and wired glass, and all the millions of keys needed to open all the thresholds and all the hands that handle you as you are delivered from one portal to the next. Words like turn-key and screw came to mind.
Then I thought, only criminals notice these doors and think these thoughts. How many people in this room see it as the mere bullshit interface between here and there? Who cares? I happily left the place.
Chuck Grimes