After serving on the jury in my hometown for a meth case, I had so many unanswered questions. We had agreed the defendant committed two crimes. The evidence was solid, so why, weeks later, was I tossing and turning at night? The sentence. Though we had followed the recommendation of the D.A., we, the jury, had been unjust. I needed to understand how twelve intelligent people could be led so harshly astray. The answer I found reflects a much larger picture of a very human and often disastrous need to accomodate authority.
The essay titled "How Ordinary People Can Perform Unthinkable Acts" is available on Amazon.com:
In early January, after returning from a holiday trip, I found the letter requesting my presence at the courthouse the following Monday. It was my lucky day—jury duty time. Not sure why, but I have rarely been called to serve. The first time, I no longer lived in the county requesting my presence and the second time, I had an infant baby and was excused.
My husband encouraged me to “get out of it.”
“No. I can’t do that. It’s my civic duty. I’ll go and see what happens.”
“Okay, but remember I told you so.”
Why is he always right?
After two hours of talk and hearing twenty something excuses from people “getting out of it”, the county clerk randomly drew names out of a spinning raffle drum. If called, we’d be seated on the first jury trial starting immediately. Turns out, I was lucky number twelve.
And so it began.
The experience—the experience that lasted 4.5 days—left a mark on me. By the end of my week of service, my soul had been scarred. And to make matters worse, I didn’t feel safe in my own home anymore. It took me months to get over it. Months. And I am still processing what happened and why. Thankfully, now I will go days without thinking about my court experience. I am better.
A detailed study of the origins of the New Alienation. The author labels it normative or postmodern ennui and traces its rise to cultural power over the last two centuries.
Share
Save
