When jury duty calls, say yes

The dreaded paper showed up in the mail: OFFICIAL JURY SUMMONS.

Again? Didn’t I just appear on a jury?

Nope. That was more than 5 years ago.

The juror summons reads, “Jury service is not voluntary, but a civic duty imposed upon all citizens. As a juror, you will be performing an important and vital role in the efficient and fair administration of justice.”

The Cuyahoga County Jury Commission Court of Common Pleas requires a minimum five-day availability to serve. You have to phone or check in online every day after 4:30 p.m. to see if you’re needed the next day.

            It’s not just an invitation, it’s a threat that reads: FAILURE TO APPEAR COULD RESULT IN YOUR ARREST.

On Day 1, they called 548 jurors. Not me. Day 2, they called 400 more. Not me. I was Draw Number 1136. Day 3, my number was up. Rats.

            I mean, Yay! Lucky me.

I know the drill. Find a place to park, go early to avoid a line at the security screening. Take the red elevators to the 4th floor of the Justice Center. Enter the Jury Assembly area, a giant room that holds a few hundred people. Check in with your jury summons and get a lanyard ID, watch a brief video introduction then wait. And wait. And wait.

            I packed a big bag with a refillable water bottle, granola bars, pens, notebooks, a book, cash, a fleece jacket, reading glasses, a mask, ID, phone and phone charger.

            The last time I served, I endlessly walked the perimeter of the room to get in my 10,000 steps. I addressed holiday cards, read a book and called friends.

            This time I planned out my garden beds.

            The jurors came from all walks of life. As someone in the court said, “the well to do and the people with nothing to do.” Some sat still for hours, doing absolutely nothing. No phone, no book, no magazine. I wondered what they were thinking about so intently and intensely.

            The court could improve the experience by partnering with the library system to offer a better selection of books and magazines.  

            Some potential jurors were glued to their phones and laptops, playing games or shopping. One woman walked in big circles to stay in shape.

She came up to me as I stood at a counter planning my yard landscaping on graph paper. Rebecca, an African-American woman, was around my age. We started talking about gardening and plants. Every time she did a lap, she stopped by to chat. What a kindred spirit.

            She even brought me a magazine with an ad for a gardening event I might enjoy. We talked about the power of plants and shared how both of our grammas, hers from Missouri and mine from Czechoslovakia, had a house full of elephant ear plants so big the rooms looked like an indoor forest.

            “She told me there’s no such thing as indoor plants,” Rebecca said. “They all started outdoors somewhere.”

            Rebecca had already spent the day before waiting and was never called. When she was released from jury duty hours before me, we had one last talk. She told me I inspired her to join a garden club. She inspired me to listen more to strangers.

            Lunch was a pre-wrapped salad in the small café, then I headed to the back of the jury room to enjoy the view of Lake Erie.

            I finished planning my flower beds when we were told to come to the front of the room. A court employee thanked us for our service and reminded us of the power of our presence. Most cases in Cuyahoga County are settled without a jury but having us there put pressure on the attorneys to negotiate.

            We were the secret weapon. The threat of a trial with jurors ready to roll can speed up negotiations. Talk about the power of showing up.

            I got a certificate thanking me. In a few weeks, I’ll get a check for $27, which covered parking and lunch.

            Most people dread jury duty. But imagine a judicial system without a jury. I don’t want to. The Sixth Amendment to the Constitution states: “In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district where the crime shall have been committed.”

            That right is only protected by people willing to serve.

            People like me, people like you.

            If you get a jury summons, you could try to get out of it, but why?

It’s not an annoyance. It’s a sacred invitation.

It’s your country calling.