I've been developing software professionally for close to two decades now. But many years ago, in a prior life, I attended paralegal school and then worked several contract jobs in the legal profession as a paralegal in Houston, Texas. During one of these stints I was summoned for jury duty. It was my first (and so far, last) trip to the courthouse in the role of potential juror. Of course, since I was a contractor getting paid hourly, I would not get paid for my time (unless you call six dollars a day getting paid), and I was living paycheck to paycheck. This was just after Pennzoil, with the help of Texas super-lawyer Joe Jamail, the "King of Torts", had won its famous case against Texaco (and so made Joe Jamail super-rich). The trial had lasted for months. So this summons caused me no small anxiety.
But I needn't have worried. The big day came, and after finding some convenient but expensive parking nearby, I went into the courthouse and joined a large assembly of other potential jurors. Soon I was marched off as part of a smaller group to a courtroom, and we sat down and listened while the judge explained, with obvious pride, that Texas was one of the few states left that still had divorce trials, and those of us lucky enough to be selected would be listening to a divorce case. At that point what ran through my head was this:
"I'm sorry for these two people, that they could not make their marriage work, and I'm sure they have some legitimate disagreement about property division that needs to be worked out somehow, but what does that have to do with me? Why am I being dragged down here, and forced to miss paying work, in order to spend three days listening to what essentially amounts to a personal problem between these two strangers?"
At least if this had been a murder case, I might have been able to rationalize making a contribution to public safety, but I could see no reason for me to be dragged into this, and by extension, just about any other civil case going on that day.
Then one of the lawyers starting asking questions of the jury pool. The first one was, "Do you work in the legal profession or have you ever had any formal legal training?" As I raised my hand, I also breathed a sigh of relief. Of course! You don't want someone who actually knows something about the law on the jury! Duh! I knew I had nothing to worry about beyond the missed morning of work, and in less than an hour, I was free to go.
I have never been summoned for jury duty since. I like to think that the powers that be recognize that this is a waste of time on everyone's part, but I'm sure that the system just hasn't been able to catch up with me since due to some moving around, and eventually I will get the dreaded summons. I will then go down to the courthouse and waste another couple of hours plus the cost of gas and parking again. But it is now even less likely that I would be picked for jury duty than that morning twenty years ago. Here is a complete list of things about me that virtually preclude any lawyer with half a brain who is on the wrong side of a lawsuit from allowing me to be on his jury. And in most civil cases, there is usually someone pretty obviously on the wrong side, but our legal system treats them all the same. Some of these are more important than others, but I've thrown everything on here, just for good measure.
- I am educated (college degree plus some graduate work).
- I am middle class.
- I am self-employed.
- I am an employer.
- I have been the target of two frivolous lawsuits (one professional and one personal).
- I have legal training.
- I have legal work experience.
- I am a libertarian.
- I believe the legal system in this country is a farce, and am not afraid to say so.
Of course, all of these facts are precisely why I would make a good juror, not a bad one. No, I'm not volunteering, just pointing out that in our cockamamie upside down horrowshow of a legal system, it's always opposite day, and one side (if not both) of a civil case will always want the least educated and most gullible jurors possible. So that excludes me. But that suits me fine, and I make no apologies for it.
The legal system in this country is a farce.
That's what I said. Just consider the nonsense of the Anna Nicole Smith case. Remember the circus in Florida? Trust me, Judge Larry Seidlin's courtroom is not an exception, like some far quarter of the universe where the known laws of physics do not apply. I've been in the courtroom where there were no celebrities and no cameras, and believe me, it's just as much of a circus. But it all makes sense once you realize that the purpose of the system is not to efficiently and fairly resolve disputes, but to make lots and lots of work for lawyers and judges (lawyers in robes). This is a subject way beyond what I am prepared to write today, and many others have written extensively on it. But the next time you see a civil case courtroom proceeding on TV, ask yourself these questions:
- Why do the lawyers talk so slow?
- Why do the lawyers ask so many questions, many of which seem irrelevant?
- Why do the lawyers often repeat the same question, with slightly different wording?
- Why are there so many motions and counter motions?
- Why are lawyers able to charge hundreds of dollars per hour, while jurors are forced to miss work and given a few dollars a day?
- Why do so many lawsuits just seem to breed new lawsuits?
- Do twelve people need to spend several days or weeks listening to this to arrive at a verdict?
- Is this a dispute that could somehow be resolved more quickly and cheaper?
- If I had a dispute to resolve, would I want to go through this?
The Anna Nicole Smith case is a lawyer's wet dream. Every week there's a new spin-off lawsuit. It's the gift to the legal industry that just keeps on giving.
(As an aside, last year the most read article on LRC was about fascism. I am hoping that by mentioning Anna Nicole Smith, I will catapult my own article to the top of the list this year. But just to hedge my bet, I've also mentioned fascism.)
Well, I don't have to worry about being sucked into one of these cases. I realize now that for the really long ones, there must be an unspoken understanding between all parties that only people who can afford to miss work for weeks and months (i.e., whose employers are either a government agency, or a corporation large enough that it can stand being ripped off like that) will be chosen. But long or short, it's unlikely I'll ever be sitting in the jury box to see who should get what from the Anna Nicole Smith estate. In the end, a lot of it is going to lawyers anyway.
Short of going to paralegal or law school yourself, or getting convicted of a felony (an easy option in our society today!), what can you do to avoid jury duty? Perhaps you can take a cue from a colleague of mine who was faced with this problem a few years ago. Remember, for those of you who are just a little clever, there is almost always going to be an opportunity to let the involved lawyers know what a bad (good) juror you would be. My friend was being considered for a lawsuit against a railroad. The suit was being brought by the estate of the deceased, a gentleman who, presumably being in a hurry, decided to ignore the lowered gates and warning bells at a crossing, and to his detriment found out what happens when train meets car. Assisting the estate was a lawyer my friend described as having "an Al Sharpton haircut." The lawyer asked if anyone in the juror pool didn't believe a life was worth one million dollars, to which my friend pointed out, his own life insurance was only for 750 thousand dollars, so he might have a problem with that statement. Needless to say, he was not selected. (But just to make sure, he asked the judge why the case was being tried in Houston, when the accident had occurred elsewhere, and the deceased did not live in Houston, nor was the defendant headquartered there. Always best to pile it on.)
In a free society, it would not take a week and tens of thousands of dollars in legal fees (not to mention taxpayers' money) to resolve simple disputes, nor months and millions to resolve more complex ones. Or even, as in the dispute central to the Anna Nicole Smith case, years. Uh, make that decades.
Good luck skirting jury duty.
September 11, 2007
