The trials of juror #185

This week I proved myself a true Floridian and a pillar of democracy. I reported for jury duty.

Much to my surprise, the selection process on Monday ended with me being assigned, along with six others, to a trial that took place today. I hadn't thought that an overeducated, libertarian journalist would be welcome on a jury, but I guess the alternatives, at least in Alachua County, are even worse. All these years of concealing my own opinions probably ensured that they'd pick me, too -- that's what I found myself thinking as a nodded my head to question after question about whether I could remain unbiased in the face of so many arguments.

So I didn't offer any excuses, I didn't claim my favorite magazine was, oh, I don't know, High Times or Soldier of Fortune, and I didn't tote along any suspicious reading material or wear outrageous clothing. I have no relatives here, so no conflicts of interest, and no contact with Gainesville-area law enforcement except a visit last fall from a certain Officer Friendly who came calling after our alarm system malfunctioned. And, let's face it, my schedule, while full of important work, offers more flexibility for service to society than most people's.

I guess I'm a highly desirable juror, after all. But as it turned out, the system didn't need me. This morning, after just two witnesses in the domestic battery trial I had been assigned to hear, the state rested its case, and the judge ruled that it had not provided enough evidence. We -- and the defendant -- were free to go by 11 a.m.

Like a good little grad student, I scooted over to class. But this ride on the wheels of justice will stick in my memory. I'll have more to say on it later.