Jury Duty: I Groaned But Appreciated It

There are few moments in American life when the government calls you to participate in some official way. We, of course, all must pay taxes, but aside from the rare history of military conscription, jury duty is about the only other time the government will call you to serve. 

I completed jury duty recently. And like many other people, I groaned when I first received the summons in the mail — the bright red border and imposing bold font shot pain through my senses. 

At that moment, I asked the question many of us have in that situation.

Is jury duty mandatory?

Yes. I was not kidding when I compared jury duty to taxes and military service. There are few times when the government will force you to act and jury duty is one of them.

Even former President George W. Bush appeared for jury duty (he wasn’t selected).

I considered deferring. In New York and many other states, you can typically defer at least once. I thought of how I could get out of this call to serve. Surely the judge would be sympathetic to a father who has to pick up his son from school every day?

In the worst-case scenario, I could simply explain when questioned: “Your honor, given my training as a lawyer, I’m not confident I will always be able to follow your instructions on the law. What if I disagree with how you espouse certain legal principles and/or requirements?”

God, it’s no wonder why so many people hate lawyers.

As the thought went through my head, I was revolted by my own thinking. I knew the judge would look at me with disappointment that a fellow New York-barred attorney could stoop to such a lame excuse. 

I knew it probably would not be the lamest excuse, however.

People will try anything to get out of jury duty

There was an old joke in law school from a trial advocacy class that the people who make up the jury are simply the ones who weren’t smart enough to get out of their service. After completing my jury duty, however, I think we lawyers should be less condescending about the average juror.

I was impressed by many of my peers. From postal workers and retired teachers to maintenance workers and marketing executives, my fellow jurors spanned the spectrum of American society. Not only was it informative about my community, but it made me rethink jury duty altogether. 

In the jury selection process, attorneys conduct what’s called voir dire, which literally means “to speak the truth.” With assistance from the judge, attorneys from both sides attempt to identify any biases potential jurors might have through a series of personal and professional questions (including what potential jurors do in their free time and what types of news they consume). Then the lawyers can try to excuse jurors that they deem unsuitable. 

Most of my fellow potential jurors responded to questions in good faith. Many committed to being impartial and objective (the judge needed an affirmative commitment). Others had good reasons for why they probably couldn’t.

One woman’s husband had been murdered in jail. Others had relatives or friends who had been incarcerated and consequently had negative views on the injustices within the criminal justice system. 

While many of these situations could impact someone’s ability to be impartial, other people said just about anything to get out of service. One guy blamed the news for corrupting his worldview, another said a few bad police encounters with family members affected him for life. He was unwavering even after the judge explained that no police officers were involved in the fraud case at hand.

Vacations, business trips, work obligations, childcare. It all came out in the form of “potential biases” affecting the ability of folks to serve.

The judge, for example, was astonished that a Google employee couldn’t find anyone else in the company to go on a business trip in his place. When the judge said he would need to call the person’s manager, the Google employee suddenly thought he could probably find someone else to go on the trip.

Even if you’re not compelled to serve as a juror in the manner of Henry Fonda in 12 Angry Men, go for the entertainment value. It’s a fascinating case study of human nature and implicit bias. 

But while some people were completely self-serving, the majority made me believe in America’s judicial process.

Jury duty made me believe – at least a little more – in American democracy

In an era where many of our American democratic institutions have become overly politicized, jury duty was a refreshing glimpse into a process rooted in impartiality, objectivity, and fairness. Of course, the system is not perfect, but the good people who administer it were all making efforts to do the right thing. 

The commissioners and clerks were pleasant and professional. They recognized the inconvenience. They went out of their way to answer questions or help people fill out necessary forms.

One person on the commissioner’s staff even helped a woman find the magnifying glass application on her iPhone, which nobody in the room appeared to know existed (including myself). When the woman successfully used it, we all shared smiles at our new knowledge. 

These moments of levity were necessary because nobody wanted to be pulled from their daily, busy lives. So many of us have commitments we can’t miss. Family members or friends have to step up and help. It’s a huge hassle to sit on a jury with strangers to decide the fate of other strangers. 

But the compelling point the commissioner made during our jury orientation was spot on — if any of us were in a position where our liberty was at stake or where we needed an impartial group of people to decide our fate in a civil matter, we would want a fair shake. We would want the system to work for us. As best as possible. 

Jury duty is a unique opportunity to play an active constitutional role in society. Both the 6th and 7th Amendments enshrine the right to a trial by jury in both criminal and civil cases. If people did not comply with this call to service, our constitutional system simply wouldn’t work as effectively. 

It’s easy to say that other people can serve in your place. “I’m too busy.” Practically everyone thinks that.

One retired cop in my juror pool said more of the “young kids” should be prioritized as jurors because they have fewer commitments. Someone asked about his retirement and he explained that he’s actually very busy with a security consulting firm and his own martial arts studio. 

Another woman explained that she operated her own acupuncture practice and that she would have to cancel appointments with many of her patients if she was chosen as a juror. She said that if she didn’t work, she didn’t eat. 

This is a reality for many people, which makes the measly $40 per day you receive as a juror in New York seem terribly insufficient. Perhaps if they paid a little more, people wouldn’t be so busy. 

For others, however, it may not matter how much you pay. Some have real reservations about deciding another person’s fate. They may have experienced hardship in their own lives with the criminal justice system or with civil courts that have affected their views on the judicial process.

Meanwhile, others simply can’t be bothered. They will say anything to make themselves appear biased.

For me personally though, witnessing the judicial process play out in real-time only made me more confident in America’s system of government. Yes, it’s not infallible. There are systemic injustices that must be improved and in some cases, rectified.

But it should give all of us some solace to know that most people who administer the system are trying to do the right thing. Day in and day out they are trying to make sure the wheels of justice continue to spin and that they work equally well for everyone.

Whether you’re a former president or an average citizen, the system is designed to work the same, but as we know, it’s not always effective. My big takeaway from jury duty still stands, however. It made me feel just a little more confident in American democracy and our judicial process despite all the contemporary forces that appear intent on undermining it.

I completed my service without being questioned or empaneled. Once they had filled a jury for the judge I was assigned to, the judge dismissed everyone else that remained. All it took was one day from my life.

Although I must admit that the next time I receive a jury duty summons — at least 6 years from now for New York courts — I will probably groan again. But at least this time I will appreciate it a little more and try a little harder to love the process.

After all, we’re in this together, whether through conscription, taxes, or jury duty.