The Shock of Jury Duty Selection

I had jury duty and was not prepared for what I encountered.

I was among the first to be called up into the courtroom.

After we all settled into ordered rows, the judge provided a brief description of the case. The defendant, sitting in front, was being charged with s*xual abuse of a minor. 

What happened next is an experience I won't forget.

The judge began asking questions to each of the 50 individuals sitting quietly, one by one. The questions revolved around circumstances or things that would hamper or prevent them from engaging fairly in this type of case.

One by one I listened to complete strangers disclose information that most people would be hesitant to share even inside a private therapy office. 

Almost every third or fourth person made statements such as "𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴*𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳", or "𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦".

One woman toward the back was visibly shaking and crying as she said "𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦; 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺". 

With each disclosure, you could feel the palpable weight of silence in the room thicken. Interrupted only by the judge's voice, "𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 38, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶?".

I was undone with each disclosure. Watching someone share something so incredibly personal and difficult. Seeing all eyes in the room attending to their every word. Observing the relief wash over their face once their turn was over. Then, knowing that many of them would get up, walk out, and go back to their job as if nothing had happened. At least, they would have to 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 nothing happened. 

And yet...so much had happened. 

There is a reason therapists build rapport with clients, especially when working with trauma. Because naming the trauma out loud feels like reliving it (particularly if you've never processed it). 

And here we are, on a Monday morning inside the third floor courtroom, completely blindsided by this situation.

I wanted to stand up and say there has to be a better way to do this:
- Can't it be written down privately? 
- Can't it be in a separate room with only the judge? 
- Can't it be inside a secure app that simply asks for a checkbox?

As I walked out of that courtroom, heavy with the weight of it all, I couldn't help but think about those who perhaps had no one to process this with, or who had maybe shared that information for the first time in their lives. You can't just turn that off. 

And I have no "lessons learned" or "buttoned up ending" for this post. It's something that needs to be addressed in the judicial system. And it also struck me, just how many people are holding unbelievably painful stories as they go about their everyday lives.