Juror #18

     Yesterday, I had jury duty. I was not happy about it at all. First of all, I was unhappy because it was at a courthouse in downtown Los Angeles. Ew. I never go there unless I’m looking for some crack. (Kidding!) Secondly, I don’t like being around people who live south of the 10 freeway. Well, unless they’re west of the 405 or below the 105. It’s all very complicated, but won’t mean anything to anyone who hasn’t lived in LA, so I’ll just leave it at that.
     So, I get called in along with 30 others to a courtroom for questioning. The defendant was a hefty, black woman pushing 60 who was busted for selling cocaine on 5th Street, pretty much the skid row area of LA. So already I’m thinking, duh, she’s so guilty. No woman her age caught with cocaine, on 5th Street no less, is visiting her grandchildren.
     They get through the first half of the jurors then break for lunch. On my way down the street to an El Pollo Loco— a fast food type restaurant that made “pollo” bowls I loved, with chopped chicken, salad, rice and beans— I start to form a strategy for how to answer my questions so I sound like a judgmental prick who can’t be trusted with the fate of this woman. Also, I wonder why the hell Mexican-made food in L.A. is always crazy, even when it’s just pizza, and why that makes it appetizing. I want to open El IHOP Loco. You can have chorizo for dinner.
     I decide my answers to the questions “Do you have anyone close to you who has been arrested for drug related crimes?” and “Does this affect your opinion on this case?” will be “My brother was busted for dealing coke” and “There’s only one reason anyone would be caught with a bunch of cocaine downtown. She’s guilty.”
     The only thing to decide now is if I have the guts to say it. Everyone who had attempted to give biased answers to sound unworthy so far was quickly backed into a corner. It went something like: “Have you ever had a bad experience with a police officer, and if so, does that keep you from being open minded about the testimonies of the officers in this case?” Their responses: “Yes, and yes.” Then the judge asked “If you had a bad experience with a doctor or a teacher, would you assume that all doctors and teachers are bad?” The reply: a sheepish, “No.” Their expressions read “Drats! Foiled again!” (Wouldn’t it be fun if people actually said things like that?)
     Over my very Mexican “Chicken Caesar Salad Bowl” (it did have crunchy tortilla strips sprinkled on top after all, and Mexicans LOVE crunchy tortilla strips— Mexican croutons, if you will) I decided, “what the fuck do I care what all these bitches think of me? I’ll never see them again.”
     I get back into the courtroom and immediately I notice this really loud breathing sound. I think at first that the judge’s assistant, an older man, has emphysema or something (And yes, I had to look up the spelling on that). Then, to my great surprise, I realize the sound is the defendant…….snoring. She had fallen asleep! Her attorney kept nudging her and asking her to wake up, to which she would respond with a drunken Dumbo smile before returning to sleep. It was official. I had NO PROBLEM saying I already thought she was guilty.
     I have to admit, my heart started to beat faster as it came closer to my turn to answer (I was last and so far no one had gone where I was about to). But when my turn came I thought, “oh hell, Id rather be an asshole too than serve duty for this asshole and hear her snore through 4 days of trial.” So I did it and I have to say it felt pretty liberating. In my head as I walked out, I said “The hell with all you suckas! I’m outta here.”
     On my way home I decided I wanted to broil some bbq boneless pork ribs for dinner and that I would have sliced cucumbers on the side to make them healthy.