Order in the Court?

I’ve always thought that people who neglect their duty as citizens by not serving on a jury are bastards. You live here and you enjoy the benefits this country presents you with; the least you can do is help run the system that protects all that. Not serving because it’s inconvenient or annoying is unjustifiable, and those guilty of it are bastards.

Today I was a bastard.

A week ago, I received a jury summons for The Circuit Court of Cook County, requesting my presence on the 30^th of January. This date occurs after I return to Boston, effectively preventing me from attending. All I had to do was tell them that.

But I didn’t, and I left for the east coast. And what do I find in my mail box upon my return? A jury summons for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. How fitting.

It’s not that I’m a bad person. I’m no saint; I do have impure thoughts from time to time. But compared to most people, I’m a nice guy. Open-minded, caring, thoughtful, smart: all concurrent with the personality of a male who rarely gets dates.

And while some complain that being a nice guy is the worst because it keeps one celibate, it’s even worse to be a nice guy and summoned to jury duty because you’re guaranteed to get picked. Think about it: you’re the prosecutor and your choices include an ugly bigot machinist named Fritz, an elitist trophy mom named Belle, or an English major named Bobby Kennedy (remember, you’re in Massachusetts). They might as well send me a room key with the summons.

So I call the number for information about being excused because of undue hardship. A travel distance of one thousand miles must surely qualify. And, of course, it’s an automated menu.

“Press 1 if you need directions to the court house. Press 2 if you need to be excused from duty. Press 3 if you have any special needs or dietary restrictions. Press 4 if you thought Mariah Carey and Pamela Anderson looked hideous at the Golden Globes.”

I pressed 4, hung up, dialed again, and then pressed 2.

“If you are seventy years or older, press 1. Otherwise press 2.” I press 2.
“Enter your Juror Number.” I do.
“To be excused automatically, enter your bank account number and PIN.” I hung up.

The form says requests for excusal need to be submitted in writing. So I wrote up this nice little letter for the Jury Administrator.

Dear Sir or Madam,

What’s that? I can’t hear you! Maybe it’s because I’m in New England during a monsoon storm. My power was out all morning and I got soaked through on my way home from class. Or maybe I can’t hear you because sound doesn’t travel this long a distance easily, and neither do I. But I probably can’t hear you because this is a letter and you’re probably not even vocally addressing me in the first place. I’ve included pictures of me lying in a puddle, sleeping on a park bench, giving the governor the finger, and riding a statue of Samuel Adams to prove my whereabouts. Have a wonderful day of dealing with jurors and keeping Judge Judy’s podium stocked with Midol.

Your friend and a little more,

Bobby Kennedy

So that’s one summons down, one to go. But there’s no way to get out of the Massachusetts one. It specifies that students studying and residing in the state at least 50% of the year are obligated to serve. I check my schedule and that day in March is actually a light one. Jury duty it is.

Not everyone believes my letter will do the trick. They think I should have been more formal, including official University documents rather than pictures. They’re being absurd. If there’s one occupation I know that prefers to break the rules and just do the fun thing instead, it’s a judge.

I don’t hear back from the Chicago office. What could possibly be taking so long? One look at the pictures proves I’m a hardworking student unable to break from his studies. I have a legitimate reason to be excused here.

Why is the Judicial branch picking on me? It’s not my fault that it always places third to the Executive and Legislative in importance during social studies class. Why didn’t the founding fathers give it some awesome power? Like the ability to command cod or the power to tax chewing gum. Maybe then it’d stand out and be more highly respected.

I checked my mail today. In it was a summons to be a judge in the state of California. I give up.