Jury duty yesterday wasn't bad at all. There is WiFi at the courthouse for $5.95, and one table that you can put your laptop on and pull a chair up to, and vending machines that take credit cards. If you don't have your summons then you go to the desk and show ID and they make you a new one. Then they call ranges of summons numbers for you to line up and check in and get three five-dollar bills. Then you sit down again. Then they start calling ranges of numbers and courtrooms and if your number is up you and the rest of the range shuffle off in a little herd.
I got lucky and I was picked on the first go-see (in my biz suit, hose and heels, BTW, BUZ) for a personal injury one-day thing. If you don't get picked, then you go back to the jury room and wait for your number to come up again and keep repeating the whole process until 4:30.
In the courtroom they take roll call-- you stand up when your number is called and say present and the lawyers eyeball you. then voir dire, you were to stand up if you'd been involved in a personal-injury suit, then those people (about 6 out of 25) all had to line up and approach the bench with the two lawyers for a chat.
After that was done then the judge's little friend called out the numbers of who they'd picked, and I, #209, was now #5, with five others and an alternate. There was one guy and I was the only white person (besides the plaintiff and the lawyers).
The plaintiff was one David Brown, age 24, an unemployed electrician, doodled on my Steno pad at right, whose Cadillac was hit at Patapsco & Hanover by the defendant's car. The defendant admitted he was at fault for the accident and the case was about how much Brown should get for his injuries. Brown had gone to five different doctors or hospitals in three weeks after the accident, demanding (and getting) Oxycodone prescriptions from all of them and discovering new injuries as he went along. Once we got to the jury room at around 3 it took us about 5 minutes for all of us to agree that he was full of it and about 10 minutes to bitch about what a liar he was. I was the only one who thought he should get anything-- I thought one trip to the emergency room on the day of the accident was reasonable to ask for-- but everyone else was adamant that he get nothing, so nothing was what he got.
So we were done by 3:30. or almost done, we had to wait for the very slow old elevator standing next to the plaintiff and his dad! Awkward! Fortunately they did not pack into the elevator with us, and I caught a cab quickly on Calvert Street and that was that.
... hey, I just put two and two together, the Sirlilar Stokes who Jacques Kelly reported about a few weeks ago is the same one accused of shooting dancer Ashley Davis in Robert E. Lee park, then going back to the strip club. (Pic at right)
