As I mentioned in yesterday's post, that I have been called upon to serve jury duty for the fifth time in 10 years. I enlightened you a little and commented about how the Philly court system works and your average Philadelphia jurist's lack of a dress code. Today I would like to tell you the story of my fifth visit to 1301 Filbert Street.
I took the 56 bus from the Torresdale Loop to the Erie-Torresdale station on the MFL (Market-Frankford Line). I rode the El to the 13th Street station and arrived top side. Picked up a Subway breakfast and arrived early just before 8 a.m to the courthouse. The notice said 8:15 so I felt good for being on time. (I may have danced a little with a homeless man outside the courthouse to celebrate my punctuality.) It was obvious to me when some jurors stumbled in 15, 20, 30 minutes late that they not only didn't care about their appearance, but punctuality was not an issue either. Refer to yesterday's post concerning appearances.
The court clerk announced that there was 5 cases to impanel and it was a busy day. Somehow I didn't see 5 trials as a busy day. I also remember years ago that they used to give us free coffee with danish, donuts and pretzels. The salad days are long gone.
She started announcing names and assigning juror numbers to these potential jurors. She polled 60 each for the first and second trial. Another clerk came in a half hour later and polled another 50 for the third trial. My name was not announced for any of these. Finally, an hour into what would be the beginning of a lot of waiting, the young man (second clerk) polled 50 jurors for the fourth case. I was in that batch.
They herded us like cattle up the escalator to the elevators. I bit my tongue and held back the urge to let out a Moooo! At the top of the escalator we marched in twos like animals onto the fictitious Noah's Ark where we lined up and waited for the elevator to take us in groups of 10 to the ninth floor, room 905. Once the last of us were stuffed like sardines in a tin can and whisked up to our final temporary destination we were escorted in and told to take seats any where. This sitting last about two minutes when another court clerk realigned us in the court room by our juror numbers. I was juror number 35. A good number by all means because it was a good chance that I wouldn't be selected. They needed 14 jurors (12 + 2 alternates). Even if both sides used all their Peremptory Challenges, I'd be back in Room 101 by lunchtime. Or so I thought.
From the Pennsylvania Code:
Rule 634. Number of Peremptory Challenges.
(A) Trials Involving Only One Defendant:
(1) In trials involving misdemeanors only and when there is only one defendant, the Commonwealth and the defendant shall each be entitled to 5 peremptory challenges.
(2) In trials involving a non-capital felony and when there is only one defendant, the Commonwealth and the defendant shall each be entitled to 7 peremptory challenges.
(3) In trials involving a capital felony and when there is only one defendant, the Commonwealth and the defendant shall each be entitled to 20 peremptory challenges.
As there was only one defendant and it was a non-capital felony or possibly a misdemeanor. Doing the math, 7 + 7 + 14 = 28, and with the chance that a few might still be excused for some dumb ass reason, I could make the cut. There would be an outside chance that I could be picked. Most likely, I would have been sent back down to the intake room. But this was not going to happen this day. I'm getting ahead of myself.
After we arrived and was sorted, the waiting began. And we waited...and waited...and waited. {Yawn}
Lo! About 10:45, a court clerk came in and apologetically gave us a 15 minute break. 15 minutes is not nearly enough time to take the elevator down 9 floors, leave the building to do anything and get back by 11 a.m. I opted to stroll the 9th floor. I stood at one end of the hall looking out the large window at the vastness of the city south of the courthouse. Not impressed.
11 a.m.: Break is over. Back to room 905 and waiting.
The wait was short lived. A half hour later the same clerk stepped in again this time sent us to lunch for an hour. Something was brewing but none of us knew what. As a small mob of us scooted to the elevator it opened and one of our 50 was coming out, a half hour late from coming back from the first break. The older gentleman, ethnicity withheld, aged somewhere in his 50s, possibly 60s, dressed like he was going to the park, ballpark, a picnic, or backyard BBQ was about to step out. The man in the shorts, long casual T-shirt covering his rather large belly and maybe sneakers, maybe sandals, I don't recall, held in his hand the largest Big Gulp I've ever seen. Let's call it the Colossal Gulp from 7-11 filled with what appeared to be bright red Fruit Punch. Keep this in mind. It's important. So Mr. CG stepped off the elevator. We, in unison, informed him of the lunch break and quickly dashed onto the lift descending to our one hour independent sabbaticals.
I beelined to the Reading Terminal Market. I love that place. I got there in 2 minutes and scoped out the interesting eateries. If you haven't been, you must. It's one of the highlights of Center City Philadelphia. I found Beck's Cajun Cafe and was seduced by a sampling of their Gumbo. I dined on Jambalaya covered in Chicken and Andouille Gumbo and a piece of cornbread. I made a pig of myself. But I couldn't stop there. I waddled over to Chocolate by Mueller and had one of the most decadent desserts I've seen recently or at least that day. A Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpet enrobed in chocolate. (See below) If you are not from Philadelphia, you won't understand. But Tastykake kicks the shit out of Little Debbie, Hostess, Entenmann's, Dolly Madison and Drake's. I defy anyone who can come up with a better snack cake than Tastykake. It truly is what makes Philadelphia great. The rest of the city...Meh!
I was scared. I had Phillies tickets that night. I couldn't go to a game smelling like puke before I've even had a beer. The conversations went around "hoping the old guy was alright", "what next", "is this !@#$% day ever going to end", and finally sports. The Stanley Cup and football. (It appears no one gives a shit about a last place team that just 6 years ago became World Series Champions. The first in nearly 30 years.) Philadelphia, the home of the fair-weather fan. During this love-fest the court clerk who had been with us most of the day remarked that in his 6 years at the courthouse he couldn't recall ever [EVER!!!] having a juror get sick. His boss who was running this macabre circus nightmare stated in his 16 years at the courthouse he couldn't recall anytime when a juror got sick. So I get to brag that I was in attendance to the only time in the recent history of Philadelphia jurydom where a juror burped up a flood of sweet red dye number 2 colored sugar water. I'm so honored.
At 2:30 pm. our favorite two clerks announced that there was going to be a Continuance in the case and we were free to return to room 101. Ahhhhhhh!!!! We all took the 9 floor ride back down into hell. Expecting that there wouldn't be anyone left in 101, I opened the door to the true hell that was waiting for us. There was barely a seat left. They sent no one home. They sat 4 trials, less than 50 jurors. Once selected those sad sacks were free to go home. But the remaining 200+ of us had to sit and stare at each other until they decided they would release us back into the wilds of Philadelphia. They told us at 8 a.m. that morning that jury duty does not end until 4 p.m. They could keep us until then. Why? Because they really wanted us to earn that $9 payday. Or they're rotten SOB sadists.
3:00 p.m.: Freedom has been declared. When she announced it just about every juror leaped up and was about to charge out of the room. The clerk quickly announced that no one was to leave their seats. Can you imagine the traffic jam in the aisles while they dole out checks? Bedlam. Mad Bedlam. Being a seasoned juror to the Jury Room Wars, I kept my front row seat and waited (key word of the day) for my name to be called. When it was at 3:03 p.m. I shot up and darted between the juror zombies who couldn't keep or find a seat, grabbed my check and like a bolt of lightning and the power of 1.21 gigawatts I flashed twice and zoomed out of there and back to my future. {Movie reference}
I kicked around Center City for a few hours. Rejected the advances of the panhandling homeless. Purchased some more bus tokens on the chance that I may feel like taking public transportation to town again sometime soon for giggles and guffaws. I grabbed the Broad Street Line south to the ballpark and enjoyed an evening of another Phillies loss. All in all, it was truly a wonderfully sucky day in the city.
The court clerk announced that there was 5 cases to impanel and it was a busy day. Somehow I didn't see 5 trials as a busy day. I also remember years ago that they used to give us free coffee with danish, donuts and pretzels. The salad days are long gone.
She started announcing names and assigning juror numbers to these potential jurors. She polled 60 each for the first and second trial. Another clerk came in a half hour later and polled another 50 for the third trial. My name was not announced for any of these. Finally, an hour into what would be the beginning of a lot of waiting, the young man (second clerk) polled 50 jurors for the fourth case. I was in that batch.
They herded us like cattle up the escalator to the elevators. I bit my tongue and held back the urge to let out a Moooo! At the top of the escalator we marched in twos like animals onto the fictitious Noah's Ark where we lined up and waited for the elevator to take us in groups of 10 to the ninth floor, room 905. Once the last of us were stuffed like sardines in a tin can and whisked up to our final temporary destination we were escorted in and told to take seats any where. This sitting last about two minutes when another court clerk realigned us in the court room by our juror numbers. I was juror number 35. A good number by all means because it was a good chance that I wouldn't be selected. They needed 14 jurors (12 + 2 alternates). Even if both sides used all their Peremptory Challenges, I'd be back in Room 101 by lunchtime. Or so I thought.
From the Pennsylvania Code:
Rule 634. Number of Peremptory Challenges.
(A) Trials Involving Only One Defendant:
(1) In trials involving misdemeanors only and when there is only one defendant, the Commonwealth and the defendant shall each be entitled to 5 peremptory challenges.
(2) In trials involving a non-capital felony and when there is only one defendant, the Commonwealth and the defendant shall each be entitled to 7 peremptory challenges.
(3) In trials involving a capital felony and when there is only one defendant, the Commonwealth and the defendant shall each be entitled to 20 peremptory challenges.
As there was only one defendant and it was a non-capital felony or possibly a misdemeanor. Doing the math, 7 + 7 + 14 = 28, and with the chance that a few might still be excused for some dumb ass reason, I could make the cut. There would be an outside chance that I could be picked. Most likely, I would have been sent back down to the intake room. But this was not going to happen this day. I'm getting ahead of myself.
After we arrived and was sorted, the waiting began. And we waited...and waited...and waited. {Yawn}
Lo! About 10:45, a court clerk came in and apologetically gave us a 15 minute break. 15 minutes is not nearly enough time to take the elevator down 9 floors, leave the building to do anything and get back by 11 a.m. I opted to stroll the 9th floor. I stood at one end of the hall looking out the large window at the vastness of the city south of the courthouse. Not impressed.
11 a.m.: Break is over. Back to room 905 and waiting.
The wait was short lived. A half hour later the same clerk stepped in again this time sent us to lunch for an hour. Something was brewing but none of us knew what. As a small mob of us scooted to the elevator it opened and one of our 50 was coming out, a half hour late from coming back from the first break. The older gentleman, ethnicity withheld, aged somewhere in his 50s, possibly 60s, dressed like he was going to the park, ballpark, a picnic, or backyard BBQ was about to step out. The man in the shorts, long casual T-shirt covering his rather large belly and maybe sneakers, maybe sandals, I don't recall, held in his hand the largest Big Gulp I've ever seen. Let's call it the Colossal Gulp from 7-11 filled with what appeared to be bright red Fruit Punch. Keep this in mind. It's important. So Mr. CG stepped off the elevator. We, in unison, informed him of the lunch break and quickly dashed onto the lift descending to our one hour independent sabbaticals.
I beelined to the Reading Terminal Market. I love that place. I got there in 2 minutes and scoped out the interesting eateries. If you haven't been, you must. It's one of the highlights of Center City Philadelphia. I found Beck's Cajun Cafe and was seduced by a sampling of their Gumbo. I dined on Jambalaya covered in Chicken and Andouille Gumbo and a piece of cornbread. I made a pig of myself. But I couldn't stop there. I waddled over to Chocolate by Mueller and had one of the most decadent desserts I've seen recently or at least that day. A Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpet enrobed in chocolate. (See below) If you are not from Philadelphia, you won't understand. But Tastykake kicks the shit out of Little Debbie, Hostess, Entenmann's, Dolly Madison and Drake's. I defy anyone who can come up with a better snack cake than Tastykake. It truly is what makes Philadelphia great. The rest of the city...Meh!
So, who would have thought that the highlight of my day would be lunch. I'm getting ahead of myself again.
I'm back well before 12:30 p.m. And the waiting game begins again. I read 100 pages that morning of The Alienist. I decided to take a break from reading and chat with my fellow bored jurors. I discovered I was not the only wretched soul whose been called upon as many times to court as I have fingers and thumb on either hand. Around 1 p.m. a different court clerk arrived to clue us in to what the hell was going on with this trial/jury selection.
Apparently unbeknown to the general public, the Philadelphia Court System had been trying something new. For cases like ours, it was decided that though there was a judge assigned to the case, he/she would not need to be present for jury selection. That chore has now been delegated to a high level non-judge, unempowered court clerk. This translate to as long as either lawyer is stuck in another court room before another judge, the court clerk could not compel them to appear. We basically had to wait until both lawyers were free. If it took until 1:45 p.m. even though we've been sitting getting antsy and agitated in room 905 since shortly after 9 a.m. Sobeit. Of course, it did take to 1:45 p.m. Finally! Let's get this clusterbang going.
They take us across the hall. They sat us in numeric order. There were 15 chairs in the Jury Box. Numbers 1 through 15 sat in there. The rest of us filled in where the general public would sit during a trial. No sooner was the last person, #50, seated...remember, Mr. Colossal Gulp, Juror # 11, he erupted like Mount Vesuvius all down the front of himself in a river of red Big Gulp spewing and flowing freely. Every person in the Jury Box jumped up as if someone dropped a rattlesnake in their laps. They spread out faster than the sea when Moses parted the Red Sea. I know. It's a little droll and ironic. And you can't make this shit up. This really happened.
I can't say that there are only 4 things that are contagious, but I know that these are: laughing, crying, yawning and vomiting. It did not take long for everyone in my section to beat feet out of that courtroom and back across the hall. Within 2 minutes the rest had joined our conclave and we found something new to talk about. Don't judge. How many of you don't slow down when you see a traffic accident? The remaining puke-free 49 restarted the waiting game. Close, but no jury selection. It's the court case that just won't get started. So much for a speedy trial. I believe to avoid a possible lawsuit an ambulance was called and Spewy Red was taken to Emergency.
No one was sure if Pukey Red was ill or overindulged in Big Red or the combination of a long day sitting around and being nervous sitting in the Jury Box. Stress and nervousness reacts differently on people. Some people get a touch of IBS. Others, the nervous twitches, mumbles, crying, wetting themselves. Me, I get the Ethel Merman syndrome and break out in song singing, "There's No Business Like Show Business." Seriously.
Nothing bonds a group of strangers who only met a few hours before than surviving a harrowing incident. Okay, so it was no armed gunman with a Kalashnikov AK-47.
At 2:30 pm. our favorite two clerks announced that there was going to be a Continuance in the case and we were free to return to room 101. Ahhhhhhh!!!! We all took the 9 floor ride back down into hell. Expecting that there wouldn't be anyone left in 101, I opened the door to the true hell that was waiting for us. There was barely a seat left. They sent no one home. They sat 4 trials, less than 50 jurors. Once selected those sad sacks were free to go home. But the remaining 200+ of us had to sit and stare at each other until they decided they would release us back into the wilds of Philadelphia. They told us at 8 a.m. that morning that jury duty does not end until 4 p.m. They could keep us until then. Why? Because they really wanted us to earn that $9 payday. Or they're rotten SOB sadists.
3:00 p.m.: Freedom has been declared. When she announced it just about every juror leaped up and was about to charge out of the room. The clerk quickly announced that no one was to leave their seats. Can you imagine the traffic jam in the aisles while they dole out checks? Bedlam. Mad Bedlam. Being a seasoned juror to the Jury Room Wars, I kept my front row seat and waited (key word of the day) for my name to be called. When it was at 3:03 p.m. I shot up and darted between the juror zombies who couldn't keep or find a seat, grabbed my check and like a bolt of lightning and the power of 1.21 gigawatts I flashed twice and zoomed out of there and back to my future. {Movie reference}
I kicked around Center City for a few hours. Rejected the advances of the panhandling homeless. Purchased some more bus tokens on the chance that I may feel like taking public transportation to town again sometime soon for giggles and guffaws. I grabbed the Broad Street Line south to the ballpark and enjoyed an evening of another Phillies loss. All in all, it was truly a wonderfully sucky day in the city.
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