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Jury Duty

By David Haldane

July 29, 2024

 

 

The notice came as it always does these days; in a faded photo emailed to me by my wife’s sister from the USA.

“You have been summoned for jury service on the date and at the location listed below,” it began. “Please respond to this notice…”.

As usual, my first reaction was a surge of excitement at the prospect of doing something I’ve always enjoyed. Then came a sudden dose of reality: the date was a few weeks away, but the address was that of the Morongo Basin Superior Court in Joshua Tree, California, where I still maintain a legal address.

“Sheesh,” I said to my wife, projecting an appropriate degree of exasperation, “here we go again!”

The exasperation was borne of several factors. First, that the website maintained by the San Bernardino County Superior Court system can’t be accessed from the Philippines. Second, that Philippine time is 15 hours ahead of California’s, making phone calls difficult.  And, finally, that ignoring this summons would surely result in a warrant for my arrest.

“Sheesh,” I said again with slightly more emphasis, “how can I respond?” Then I went looking for an alarm clock.

While searching, I reflected on the last time I’d sat on a jury. That was in 2016, well before we moved to Mindanao. The case involved a young man accused of squatting on private property, committing assault with a deadly weapon, and possessing stolen goods. The charges were serious enough to send him to prison for a very long time. Yet throughout the trial, and despite the overwhelming evidence against him, he’d maintained an attitude of confidence that was unsettling.

“For me, the moment of truth came when the young man cried,” I later reported on air at the local radio station employing me at the time. “Moments before, he’d seemed confident, even cocky. Now, as a court assistant read the verdict that could send him to prison, his shoulders slumped.

“From the jury box where I sat,” my recounting continued, “the mood was somber. There was no doubt that our verdict was correct, as the evidence had clearly shown. It had taken us only 30 minutes to decide, with time left over to laugh. But now the man was crying, and a bolt of reality struck my heart; because of our decision, his life would be forever changed.”

Though I didn’t feel bad about the verdict we’d reached, the experience left me humbled. Serving on the jury had not been easy, eating up days of my time and requiring meticulous planning. In the end, though, I told my listeners, “It enriched my life by strumming some of the most deeply resonant chords of our shared human experience. Ultimately, I hope, it made me a better person.”

Eight years later in the Philippines, I found that alarm clock and set it for 12:30 a.m. local time. That would make it 9:30 a.m. in California, just about right for a call to the court clerk. And, sure enough, someone answered almost immediately.

“I’ve been summoned for jury duty,” I explained, “but don’t think I can make it because I live in the Philippines.”

“Oh my,” the clerk said, “that does pose a problem.”

There was a pause as she considered the situation. “Are you over 70?” she finally inquired.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” I confessed.

“Ok,” she said, “here’s what you’re gonna do. I’ll give you an email address; just send them a message saying you’ve got ongoing health issues, and you’ll be excused for life.”

And so, I did, and so I was. Bottom line: I won’t be flying to California anytime soon.

The truth is, though, that I feel a little sad about never serving on another jury. Because I think I was good at it. And somehow, as I tried explaining on the air, it made me a better human being.

 

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David Haldane is an award-winning American journalist, author, and broadcaster with homes in Southern California and Northern Mindanao. His latest book, A Tooth in My Popsicle, is available on Amazon. This column appears weekly in The Manila Times.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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