Lawyer Duty

Along with the pile of Christmas cards was an envelope that looked like one of those notices you get when you haven't paid a parking ticket, except the return address said "Commissioner of Jurors." In the past I'd just sent them a note that I was a practicing lawyer and that was the end of it. Now, thanks to court reform, all exemptions have been eliminated. No problem, I did the lawyerly thing: the next time I was in Mineola, I stopped in to see the jury clerk with my notice. I was sure that there must be some exception for lawyers who work in the same court where they would be expected to sit as jurors.

The clerk heard me out - Nassau court personnel are the most polite in the state - and then explained that there are no longer any exemptions for lawyers and that I had a right to one adjournment. It looked like I had to serve.

On January 16, I showed up at the courthouse wearing flannel shirt, corduroys and moccasins - I know from experience that jurors don't wear coats and ties. I did use my lawyer's identification card to get past the line at the metal detector. I thought the court officer raised an eyebrow.

At 8:30, almost all the seats in the Jury Assembly Room were taken and there was a long line heading into the back where the jury clerk's office is. I got on the line assuming that was what you did. Eventually, I realized that most of the people sitting around were there for the first day of their service. I found a seat and waited.

They showed us a video about jury service. I watched it carefully, looking for some prejudicial statement that I could use as a basis for an appeal in the future. The only objection I had was that they really should have used an actor instead of a judge to play the judge.

Then I went into a small room in the back and opened my shoulder bag in which I had brought two novels, Newsday, the Times and my laptop computer. I had a week ahead of me to finish the books I was reading and work on the one I am writing. What luxury. Better than a vacation.

The loudspeaker started calling out names. The three other people in the room I was in got up and left. I felt left out. About 20 minutes later, two came back. Both had been told that the trial would be at least three weeks and excused themselves. The woman was called again. I started talking with the man about jury service. He was a retired engineer who had been doing jury duty for 40 years. He said he usually gets rejected from panels. My first reaction was that I would not want him as a juror on one of my cases - engineers are math-oriented, precise, analytical, maybe trained to tune out the emotional questions that are the stuff of the medical malpractice cases I try. We spoke for an hour, much more time than I can ever take getting to know anyone when I'm selecting a jury, about our lives, our work, our jury service. He told me of the death of his first wife and the happy life he had built in his retirement with his second wife. The man was a sensitive, intelligent and fair-minded person who would grace any jury.

He was called again and I got up and found a seat at a table in a larger room next to an outlet where I could plug in my laptop. A woman was reading a large-print mystery by Margaret Truman and a man was working on some kind of spreadsheet. I couldn't help tuning into the conversations around me as I pounded on my laptop.

A waitress who worked two jobs was worried that she might not make her rent this month because of jury duty.

A man came back after being rejected for knowing too much. He took care of the plumbing and heating systems in his family's greenhouse business.

I was listening for reactions to lawyers. The only one I heard was, "He asked the same question to every single person. It was so boring. We were sitting in the back cracking jokes and laughing."

On my second afternoon, I was listening to a woman at the next table describe how she had learned how to express the anal glands of her Rottweiler-Shepherd mix when my name was called - finally.

Thirty-nine other jurors and I were assembled and then escorted by a uniformed court officer to Judge John DiNoto's courtroom on the fourth floor. We were told to take seats in the back. I had the feeling of being out of control, ordered, gently but still ordered, from one place to another. The attorneys were sitting at the counsel tables and did not turn around. I didn't have my uniform: my suit and my briefcase, to set me apart. We were all without individuality. The court officer slapped his hand on the door, called out, "All rise," and we all rose. The judge in his black robe came in and we were ordered to sit.

Without taking the bench, the judge walked forward to the railing and explained that we were about to begin jury selection and read out the names of the parties to the case. He asked if any of the jurors had had any contact with any of the people he named. About five raised their hands. I did not recognize any of the people but had sued the defendant hospital. The fee had paid for a year of my daughter's college. Rather than be cute and stay sitting because the hospital wasn't a person and wait to be asked about attorneys, I raised my hand. The six of us were told to walk to the front of the courtroom.

A woman ahead of me was a teller in a bank where one of the defendant doctors did his banking. She was excused.

Judge DiNoto recognized me, even without a tie, and told me to step up. The group of attorneys broke into smiles. I have cases pending against all of the defendants' attorneys. The attorney for the plaintiff was a nurse-lawyer, who had asked me for a job a few years ago. I was excused before I had a chance to say I had heard of the hospital.

I asked the judge if I could sit in the room and watch the selection. He sent me back to the jury assembly room, no room for argument.

Later that afternoon another list of names, including mine, was called. We were told to bring our belongings and follow the court officer out the side door. I heard the phrase, "criminal court," and thought they don't know me there. Instead of a bus waiting, we were excused and told we did not have to come back for another four years. I looked around and saw some very happy people leaving with me.