Jury duty in OC Superior Court has improved since my last assignment there over six years ago.
Notification remains the same, the official-looking piece of mail delivered a week or so before the scheduled five days of call-in begins on a Friday afternoon.
My first dates began during a planned vacation, but it was fairly easy to go online and find a later time. When that day arrived, I made my first call and wasn’t needed, but the next day I was told to report to the courthouse on Civic Center Drive in downtown Santa Ana. It was October 31, Halloween. Should I select a costume and bring a trick or treat bag?
A former business associate who despised jury duty recommended that when called, wear a suit and tie, carry a briefcase full of paperwork, and look busy and annoyed. I decided against his advice as well as a costume and repeated my previous jury duty uniform of jeans, long sleeve shirt and walking shoes—it is about a quarter of a mile from the parking structure to the courthouse. I also brought a sweater, as the courtrooms are often chilly.
On the sidewalk outside the courthouse there are a series of signs with instructions for juror check-in by phone. It took just under a minute to enter my registration number and receive verification, thus eliminating the long lines experienced previously in the jury assembly room. Chalk one up for technology.
The state of society being what it is, courthouse access means electronic screening. Shoes remain on, but for gentlemen, belts must be removed. And don’t forget what’s in your pocket—I saw one frustrated man trying to disengage a small but offending knife from his key ring.
The jury assembly room remains large and sunny. Seats are comfortable and there are tables at the sides and rear for those who bring work and spread out. There are chargers for phones and laptops. Immediately adjacent is a café with pre-made food and short order meals, and an eating area similar to what you remember from elementary school. I brought my lunch the days I served, but it is a short walk to some of Santa Ana’s better lunch restaurants on 4th Street.
The video introduction to jury service is new, hosted by the former chief justice of the state supreme court, who assured viewers even she has been called for jury duty. In place of the previous production, which had a lame, stilted fake courtroom setting, the new video is much more realistic and professionally produced. It focuses on the experience of actual jurors (or some very convincing actors) and why they believed their service made for a better society.
Late in the afternoon I, along with about 90 other potential jurors, was called to a courtroom. After a brief description of the coming trial (homicide) and its expected length of three weeks, the judge asked how many in attendance could serve. Fourteen of us stood up. Everyone else was dismissed and our band of fourteen was told to return.
The next day our ranks had swollen by an additional 70 potential jurors. After all were assigned a number, and by lottery, fourteen men and women (identified by number, not name) were called into the jury box for questioning by the prosecution and defense. This is voir dire, a phrase from the French meaning “to speak the truth”. The judge stressed that the law required each potential juror to view the case with the presumption of innocence for the defendant. He also emphasized that the burden of proof—beyond a reasonable doubt—lay not with the defendant, but with the prosecution, in the person of a deputy district attorney. The judge also—repeatedly—admonished all present not to search the internet for case details.
For two days, the defense attorney and prosecutor homed in on the past experiences and views of prospective jurors. Everyone was asked if they had served previously as a juror, had family in law enforcement, had family in prison, or had been a crime victim (several in the pool had catalytic converters stolen). Then experiences unique to each individual were plumbed, within the twin themes of “do you have common sense” and “can you be fair?”
As potential jurors were excused, individuals were again called by luck of the draw into the jury box. I waited with increasing anxiety, as the case I served on six years ago was a murder trial, an experience I was loath to repeat.
In the end, sixteen people (twelve jurors, four alternates) were seated and we remaining three dozen or so were dismissed. As the elevators descended from the 11th floor courtroom, phones were whipped out and internet searches initiated (as voir dire went on, the name of the defendant and the vague outlines of the case had trickled out). By the time we reached the third-floor jury assembly room everyone was clued into the sordid details.
I received my jury duty acknowledgment form from the staff and made my way out of the courthouse. Two weeks later a check for $61.42 arrived in the mail, payment of $15 per day for service and 34 cents per mile for mileage.
As I drove home, I was satisfied that the seated jury looked a lot like Orange County, skewed a bit older, but truly reflective of the goal of providing the defendant with a jury of his peers. And despite some grousing in the assembly room about the process, I found most everyone was serious about their potential assignment and was prepared to use their common sense and be fair.
Michael Stockstill is retired. He is the author of a book about the history of the Irvine Ranch. He resides in Irvine and has served as a juror on three trials.
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