Jury Duty, or I Have No Poker Face....
First of all, I have no Sadie pictures this week. Sadie was exceptionally blurry, I mean, active, this weekend, and she absolutely would not stand still long enough to snap any shots. We're going to try again this weekend. Plus, we went to the Carrboro Farmer's Market and the Museum of Life and Science yet AGAIN, and really, how many blog entries can I possibly have with the same jaunts we've had fifty times before. Habit or rut? You tell me...
I had jury duty on Wednesday. I somehow thought I'd slip through the cracks as I called on Tuesday, but unfortunately, my number was up. I drove into Hillsborough and found the downtown area completely torn up with construction, and had to practically park in Virginia.
We waited until 11:30 am for the defendant to make his plea. Really, how long does it take to declare guilty or not guilty? Ugh. They trotted all 80 something of us into the courtroom. Guess who was the first potential juror called up? Yes, indeed, I was juror #1.
The defendant was charged with domestic violence. He had allegedly beat his girlfriend, who was a local research physician. She had a teenage daughter, who was there to support her. There were going to be police officers testifying that he beat her. When the defendant was introduced, he rose up, hair slicked back to a spiky peak, and gave us all a smarmy smirk and waved.
The prosecution questioned us, the first twelve jurors. One gentleman reported that he had been arrested and tried for spousal abuse. Another stated that he thought domestic violence should be handled in the home and that the penal system has no place getting involved. Guess which two jurors were excused. Then, we broke for lunch. Justice moves like a glacier.
When we returned, the defense attorney had his way with us. Though I tried to appear impartial, I found myself glancing sympathetically at the alleged victim and glaring at Mr. Slickmeister. The funny thing is that several of the first 12 jurors either worked with battered women or children, had spouses who did, or volunteered in the community to assist victimized women. When asked if the courts should become involved in a domestic violence case, even if the victim did not wish to press charges, I stated that by the time physical violence occurs in a relationship, the victim has most likely already been isolated and mentally beaten down, and may be incapable of advocating for herself (or himself, I suppose). In these cases, we as a society have an obligation to advocate for them, and if a crime is committed in general, the perpetrator needs to be prosecuted, regardless of the personal feelings of the victim. A crime is a crime, and assault is assault. Many battered women are terrified to prosecute, and others have been so manipulated that they have been made to feel responsible for the abuse on some level. Many battered women grew up seeing their own mothers being abused and thus, are replicating what they know.
I was excused promptly. So was the woman and man on our panel who worked directly with abuse victims. I hope that whatever happened, justice was served. I know that men are occasionally falsely accused of abuse, and in those cases, I hope that they are found innocent and that the false accuser has to suffer serious consequences, but I guess I make a horrible juror in that I tend to veer towards giving the alleged victim the benefit of the doubt, as I believe that false accusers are outnumbered by actual victims. That places me in direct conflict with the court's assumption of innocence before being proven guilty.
One point that hit home for me after this experience is that domestic violence occurs across the spectrum; that affluent and well-educated professionals are as much at risk of being battered as those of lower socioeconomic status. This woman appeared to be a Type A, driven, professionally accomplished woman, and yet at home, she was dominated and cowed into submission. Abuse can truly happen to any of us.
I had jury duty on Wednesday. I somehow thought I'd slip through the cracks as I called on Tuesday, but unfortunately, my number was up. I drove into Hillsborough and found the downtown area completely torn up with construction, and had to practically park in Virginia.
We waited until 11:30 am for the defendant to make his plea. Really, how long does it take to declare guilty or not guilty? Ugh. They trotted all 80 something of us into the courtroom. Guess who was the first potential juror called up? Yes, indeed, I was juror #1.
The defendant was charged with domestic violence. He had allegedly beat his girlfriend, who was a local research physician. She had a teenage daughter, who was there to support her. There were going to be police officers testifying that he beat her. When the defendant was introduced, he rose up, hair slicked back to a spiky peak, and gave us all a smarmy smirk and waved.
The prosecution questioned us, the first twelve jurors. One gentleman reported that he had been arrested and tried for spousal abuse. Another stated that he thought domestic violence should be handled in the home and that the penal system has no place getting involved. Guess which two jurors were excused. Then, we broke for lunch. Justice moves like a glacier.
When we returned, the defense attorney had his way with us. Though I tried to appear impartial, I found myself glancing sympathetically at the alleged victim and glaring at Mr. Slickmeister. The funny thing is that several of the first 12 jurors either worked with battered women or children, had spouses who did, or volunteered in the community to assist victimized women. When asked if the courts should become involved in a domestic violence case, even if the victim did not wish to press charges, I stated that by the time physical violence occurs in a relationship, the victim has most likely already been isolated and mentally beaten down, and may be incapable of advocating for herself (or himself, I suppose). In these cases, we as a society have an obligation to advocate for them, and if a crime is committed in general, the perpetrator needs to be prosecuted, regardless of the personal feelings of the victim. A crime is a crime, and assault is assault. Many battered women are terrified to prosecute, and others have been so manipulated that they have been made to feel responsible for the abuse on some level. Many battered women grew up seeing their own mothers being abused and thus, are replicating what they know.
I was excused promptly. So was the woman and man on our panel who worked directly with abuse victims. I hope that whatever happened, justice was served. I know that men are occasionally falsely accused of abuse, and in those cases, I hope that they are found innocent and that the false accuser has to suffer serious consequences, but I guess I make a horrible juror in that I tend to veer towards giving the alleged victim the benefit of the doubt, as I believe that false accusers are outnumbered by actual victims. That places me in direct conflict with the court's assumption of innocence before being proven guilty.
One point that hit home for me after this experience is that domestic violence occurs across the spectrum; that affluent and well-educated professionals are as much at risk of being battered as those of lower socioeconomic status. This woman appeared to be a Type A, driven, professionally accomplished woman, and yet at home, she was dominated and cowed into submission. Abuse can truly happen to any of us.
posted by Sadiebug at 8:58 AM
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