This week’s Big Adventure is that I’m on jury duty, specifically for the State of New Mexico, Bernalillio County, which is where I live. When my summons arrived, I was asked to fill out several forms, including one that asked if I would incur any hardship if I were asked to serve. I requested that I not be required to serve because I’m self-employed. If I don’t work, there’s no one who can cover for me.

Documents in My Case
The county was sympathetic to my request, and reduced my term of being on call (not service) from three weeks to one. I was also given the option to postpone serving for six months. However, since I had no idea what my schedule would look like in six months, whereas this week had a certain amount of wiggle room, I opted to select this as the week I would make myself available to serve.
As required, I checked the county court’s website to see if my group number (not my juror badge number) was on the list for service on Monday. Imagine my astonishment when, upon checking the appropriate page, I saw that one hundred and fifteen group numbers were listed. Mine was in the fifth row.
Over the weekend, since I don’t know downtown Albuquerque very well, I’d gone to scout the area, including locating the appropriate parking facility. Now, with a clear visual of the area in my mind, I found myself wondering how much time I should allow to get downtown, parked, and over to the courthouse by 8:30 a.m. Even if each group contained only five people, the number of people attempting to park would be five hundred and seventy-five. That many cars going to one parking garage would make a line that would stretch for miles. The garage probably didn’t have that many places.
Jim and I discussed this and decided that – despite each juror having been assigned a separate badge number as well – the group numbers must indicate only one person. When I checked in, I asked, and this proved to be the case.
So, as Juror Group 622, I took my seat in the jury assembly room. The courthouse courteously provided both coffee and water, and I spent a comfortable twenty minutes or so sipping coffee and reading Terry Pratchett’s A Thief of Time. No. I didn’t pick this novel on purpose, but the irony of the title – since my time was being “stolen” by the requirement that I do my civic duty – didn’t escape me.
Eventually, a man came and explained that we had appeared in the jury pool because either we were registered voters, had paid taxes, or had driver’s licenses. Basically, as is so often the case, because we were responsible citizens, more was being asked of us. Those who don’t bother to vote, dodge their taxes, or drive unlicensed get off. Oh, I know the state has to have some system, but once again… irony.
The assembled juror pool to which I belonged was short something like four people, all of whom, we were assured, would be hunted down and informed that they had behaved badly. With that, about half of us (including several of the absent numbers) were instructed to go up to Judge Briana Zamora’s courtroom for voir dire. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, voir dire is the process by which the judge and attorneys select the jury.
We were handed numbers that corresponded to a seating chart, then escorted into the courtroom. Now, to my identity as Group 622, I added Seat 36. We were greeted, sworn in, and then Judge Zamora told us the charge. She also told us that it was likely that the trial would run for three to four days.
I can’t remember the exact wording of the charge, so rather than risk misrepresenting, I’m going to paraphrase. The defendant (who was there) was accused of rape. Complicating matters was that the alleged act had occurred in a correctional facility.
I’m going to jump ahead here and note something fascinating. Voir dire had been going on for well over an hour – first the judge, then the prosecution had asked their questions – before it became evident that the fifty or so of us in the jury pool were confused as to what we thought the crime was for which we might be asked to sit on a jury.
The more literal-minded (I raise my hand here) thought that the incident in question had occurred between two inmates since all we were told was that it had occurred in a correctional facility. Others had interpreted what was said to mean that if the incidence was “criminal,” it must be between someone associated in some form of non-inmate role and an inmate. This latter turned out to be the case.
So, those of us who literally adhered to what was presented to us were incorrect. Those who added (for whatever reason) information that was actually not presented were correct. Given that over and over again we were told that we would be asked to view the matter in the light of the evidence presented, not in light of our preconceptions…
Well, let’s just say this misunderstanding did not give me a lot of faith in the system.
Since I wasn’t taking notes, I can’t take you through the long process of questions, rephrasing of the same questions, new questions, misunderstandings, and circumlocutions. However, I will say that the number of times one or the other of the attorneys requested to approach the bench (or were called to the bench by the judge) was remarkable.
I mean that literally… At one point, the gentleman seated to my left remarked “I wonder if we’re all going to get sent home.”
But, in the end, the questioning ended. We retired to the juror room. I enjoyed a nice chat about SF/F with several of my fellow potential jurors, then the names of those selected to serve were announced.
I wasn’t chosen. On the one hand, given that I can ill afford most of a week away from my work, I am relieved. On the other hand, I do feel I learned a great deal from my four or so hours in court, so this wasn’t a waste of time
I was reminded once again that words don’t mean the same thing to people, even when those people are all native speakers of the same language. I was impressed by the thoughtful intensity which the members of my juror pool brought to their responses to the questions they were asked. I learned that consent in sexual relationships is really, really important to many people – men and women, young and old. And that people understand that “consent” does not apply in situations of unequal power.
I’m on call for the rest of this week. My group may or may not be summoned again. But if it is, Juror Group 622 will drive to the courthouse for her new adventure!