Civic dooty.
I served on my first jury this last week. Unfortunately, it fell on my weekend so no work was accomplished at the house or on my car. On day one, I reported to the courthouse at 8:30 as instructed. This is when the waiting began. They assigned everyone numbers and mine was high. I sat there all day as they called peoples numbers. I read a magazine that I had the forethought to bring with me. That was good for about an hour of entertainment. I was excited when a little over half the day had passed and they still had not reached my number. At a quarter till one they dismissed us to go home. I was ecstatic. I thought I was through until they added that we were required to report every day for the rest of the week. WTF? I always had the impression that if you didn't get picked for a trial, your obligation was fulfilled. Just goes to further prove that assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups.
So I report on day two with novel in hand and fully expecting to get some serious reading done. No such luck. I get picked up for a civil trial. I detest lawyers and my most recent courtroom experience has made me less than ecstatic with judges and police officers. None the less, I was happy to take part in a situation where my common sense might be able to make the difference in someone else's life. To be honest, I would have rather been a juror in a criminal case. Criminal cases are more important than the civil variety in my opinion. For selfish reasons, I was glad that I was assigned to this particular case. The rumor running around the jury room was that the other two cases were murder trials. I had terrible visions of myself getting caught up in a prolonged case that would last several weeks or even months.
Now that the case is closed, I can discuss the particulars of the matter. The whole case was about a terrible tragedy that happened to this poor gentleman. He was a real estate appraiser who was dispatched to conduct an appraisal on the owners/ defendants home. He went to the house, and during the course of his inspection he fell down the basement steps. He was severely injured and had to be flown to a local hospital. His injuries were multiple and serious. The bills were more than significant, especially since he had no medical insurance. I felt sorry for him and his family for the pain and suffering he went through. He contended that the owner of the house was negligent in warning him about the "defect" at the top of the basement stairs. The owner, who was trying to refinance her home at the time, wasn't even there when the accident happened. She testified that there was no defect at the threshold of the stairs.
As it turns out, the "defect" was a rounded over piece of wood at the top of the stairs. The home owner had wood floors installed at one point and the plaintiff contended that owner was responsible for inspecting that floor and making sure everyone who ever entered her house knew about the problem. The plaintiff had several pictures of the threshold at the top of the stairs. The rounded over portion turned out to be nothing but an end piece where the hardwood could be terminated and still look finished. Anyone would encounter this type of "defect" whenever there was a transition from one type of flooring to another. Where carpet would end and the hard floor begins for example. I would have to say, if anything, this is a safety feature so you don't trip.
So I sat in the jury box listening to the plaintiffs lawyer spill all his bullshit for a day and a half about how the owner was responsible for causing this poor guy to fall down the stairs. He was an old school Matlock type of dude. He was slow and deliberate, he entered all kinds of photos and bills into evidence. He called paramedics, doctors, family members, and the plaintiff to the stand. After he was finished presenting his case, the defense lawyer took a whole hour to shoot down everything he had to say.
During the break, before closing statements, I sat in the deliberation room examining my fellow jurors. I had already made up my mind in the case and I wondered how my peers felt. I had terrible fears about a dead locked jury because I had no intention of changing my mind based on the facts presented to me. There was no way I was awarding that poor guy one red cent. It's one of those bad things that happen to good people. The guy took a header down a flight of stairs and hurt himself really bad, but it could've happened in his own house as easily as it did in the house he was inspecting. Hell, I almost fell on the courthouse steps earlier that morning. I wasn't going to punish a poor lady for just owning the home in which he fell. Through my mind went all the retarded law suits I've seen on the news where some idiot received millions of dollars because of some loop hole or the company settled to avoid embarrassment. I wondered how the juries in those cases had ever been able, in good conscience, to award those people. The poor home owner in this case didn't set a trip wire or a bear trap for the guy to fall over. The wood at the top of the stairs wasn't loose or in disrepair. The homeowners own children lived in the furnished basement. She has a fused ankle and still managed to negotiate those stairs every morning to get her kids out of bed without killing herself. For once I felt I was in a position of power. I held these peoples fate in my hands. I wasn't going to back down under any circumstances. I was going to sleep with a clear conscience even if they had to retry the case because of my stubbornness.
After the closing statements, we retired to the deliberation room for the last time. Finally being able to discuss the case with one and other, I found that my peers were in complete agreement with me. To say I was relieved is an understatement. It took us all of ten minutes to rule on behalf of the defendant and the only reason it took that long is because we all wanted to get our words in on why this was a lame lawsuit. We all agreed that dooty happens and, sometimes, you just have to suck it up and drive on.
So I report on day two with novel in hand and fully expecting to get some serious reading done. No such luck. I get picked up for a civil trial. I detest lawyers and my most recent courtroom experience has made me less than ecstatic with judges and police officers. None the less, I was happy to take part in a situation where my common sense might be able to make the difference in someone else's life. To be honest, I would have rather been a juror in a criminal case. Criminal cases are more important than the civil variety in my opinion. For selfish reasons, I was glad that I was assigned to this particular case. The rumor running around the jury room was that the other two cases were murder trials. I had terrible visions of myself getting caught up in a prolonged case that would last several weeks or even months.
Now that the case is closed, I can discuss the particulars of the matter. The whole case was about a terrible tragedy that happened to this poor gentleman. He was a real estate appraiser who was dispatched to conduct an appraisal on the owners/ defendants home. He went to the house, and during the course of his inspection he fell down the basement steps. He was severely injured and had to be flown to a local hospital. His injuries were multiple and serious. The bills were more than significant, especially since he had no medical insurance. I felt sorry for him and his family for the pain and suffering he went through. He contended that the owner of the house was negligent in warning him about the "defect" at the top of the basement stairs. The owner, who was trying to refinance her home at the time, wasn't even there when the accident happened. She testified that there was no defect at the threshold of the stairs.
As it turns out, the "defect" was a rounded over piece of wood at the top of the stairs. The home owner had wood floors installed at one point and the plaintiff contended that owner was responsible for inspecting that floor and making sure everyone who ever entered her house knew about the problem. The plaintiff had several pictures of the threshold at the top of the stairs. The rounded over portion turned out to be nothing but an end piece where the hardwood could be terminated and still look finished. Anyone would encounter this type of "defect" whenever there was a transition from one type of flooring to another. Where carpet would end and the hard floor begins for example. I would have to say, if anything, this is a safety feature so you don't trip.
So I sat in the jury box listening to the plaintiffs lawyer spill all his bullshit for a day and a half about how the owner was responsible for causing this poor guy to fall down the stairs. He was an old school Matlock type of dude. He was slow and deliberate, he entered all kinds of photos and bills into evidence. He called paramedics, doctors, family members, and the plaintiff to the stand. After he was finished presenting his case, the defense lawyer took a whole hour to shoot down everything he had to say.
During the break, before closing statements, I sat in the deliberation room examining my fellow jurors. I had already made up my mind in the case and I wondered how my peers felt. I had terrible fears about a dead locked jury because I had no intention of changing my mind based on the facts presented to me. There was no way I was awarding that poor guy one red cent. It's one of those bad things that happen to good people. The guy took a header down a flight of stairs and hurt himself really bad, but it could've happened in his own house as easily as it did in the house he was inspecting. Hell, I almost fell on the courthouse steps earlier that morning. I wasn't going to punish a poor lady for just owning the home in which he fell. Through my mind went all the retarded law suits I've seen on the news where some idiot received millions of dollars because of some loop hole or the company settled to avoid embarrassment. I wondered how the juries in those cases had ever been able, in good conscience, to award those people. The poor home owner in this case didn't set a trip wire or a bear trap for the guy to fall over. The wood at the top of the stairs wasn't loose or in disrepair. The homeowners own children lived in the furnished basement. She has a fused ankle and still managed to negotiate those stairs every morning to get her kids out of bed without killing herself. For once I felt I was in a position of power. I held these peoples fate in my hands. I wasn't going to back down under any circumstances. I was going to sleep with a clear conscience even if they had to retry the case because of my stubbornness.
After the closing statements, we retired to the deliberation room for the last time. Finally being able to discuss the case with one and other, I found that my peers were in complete agreement with me. To say I was relieved is an understatement. It took us all of ten minutes to rule on behalf of the defendant and the only reason it took that long is because we all wanted to get our words in on why this was a lame lawsuit. We all agreed that dooty happens and, sometimes, you just have to suck it up and drive on.
posted by Glenn at 5:54 PM
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