Innocent

Last week, for the first time in my life, I was summoned for jury service. I very, very much wanted to escape this sacred, democratic duty. It seemed complicated and unpleasant and inconvenient. I explained in a preemptory note that I was the sole breadwinner for my family and that this trial would be a bit of a hardship. The Powers That Be responded immediately: request denied. Still, surely, I wouldn’t actually be chosen. The trial being for a misdemeanor offence, only six men and women would be selected from a pool of twenty-five, of which I was the twenty-second prospective juror – meaning a whopping sixteen people would have to be excused for me to be included. The odds were overwhelmingly in my favor.

During the voir dire process, the lawyers for the prosecution and the defense asked us a number of questions to determine, first, if our backgrounds would create a conflict – whether we were related to someone who worked in law enforcement, for instance. Everyone’s backgrounds were pristinely uncomplicated. Then the lawyers began to ask us about biases, about whether, given the nature of this particular case, we would be able to withhold judgment until we’d heard all the facts.

To my great my disappointment, the majority of the prospective jurors admitted that no, they did not think they would be able to judge the defendant fairly. In their defense, the case involved a man who was accused of breaking a no-contact order, and so there was, peripherally, the issue of domestic violence. However, the only question we were to answer was whether this person made a single phone call in violation of that order. The lawyers reiterated this fact over and over, and still most of my fellow jurors felt that no, fairness was simply too tall a mountain to climb. One by one they were excused until the inevitable occurred: I became juror number six – the last one selected.

We ended up returning a verdict of not guilty, and it wasn’t a hard decision to reach. The evidence was just too slim to overcome reasonable doubt. I thought about the sixteen people who’d been excused for their supposed biased. I was frustrated with them at the time, but I must admit I was glad I got to have the experience. It was interesting, and engaging, and meaningful.

As I left the courthouse that day, I decided the jurors who escaped the trial probably didn’t give themselves enough credit. Most of them could have returned a fair verdict. Then again, I hadn’t given myself enough credit either. I only enjoyed the experience because I dropped all my judgment and prejudice and just let myself be where I was, let myself do what I was doing, decided the world was innocent in the end, having done me no wrong by bringing me to this trial.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com