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Now I Understand Why People Hate Jury Duty.

In a word: It Fucking Sucks.

For those of you who haven't been before, let me sum it up for you. Go down to your local DMV. Pull a number and wait in line. And then imagine they could call your number at any time, but don't do so for six fucking hours. That's about it.

My first mistake was showing up on Vince Lombardi time; if you're not ten minutes early, you're late. Or in my case, half an hour early. Let me be very clear about this one: there is absolutely no fucking advantage to walking through the door early, save you might not get a chair that squeaks. None. Zero. Show up early = wait more.

So roll call was at 8 o'clock in the morning, and the first thing you do is watch a rah-rah-rah video abou thow important jury duty is. No problem there, I'm sure they're used to dealing with a bunch of angry people whining about how their outside job are just so important, so this little speech is pretty expected. Then the Clerk calls off juror numbers, twenty-five at a time. Is that a lottery you want to win, or no? Turns out there's no real answer here, just bad luck. The batches of juror numbers get called out every, eh, half an hour or so. In the meantime, we were treated to a nice viewing of Secondhand Lions which made me want to blow my brains out because my laptop battery died halfway through and I actually had to pay attention to this piece of shit movie. But the Clerk says, "don't worry, most of you will be out of here around noon."

And by most of you I mean everyone except me, because at 11:55 he makes one final call for jurors and Yours Truly's number is among them. "You twenty-five people need to be back here at 1:30 to begin a trial, the rest of you are free to go and thank you for your service." Fuck. Some people didn't even get called and get to go home. Oh well, such is life, eh? So I go out to lunch -- $7.50 for a shitty little sandwich and a bottle of Cherry Coke -- and am back in the juror room by 1:30. And of course the Bailiffs don't get down to pick us up until 2:15, so that's forty-five minutes more with nothing but my crank in my hand.

Up to the courtroom we go, and all file according to our assigned numbers, just like we're back in high school. In the courtroom is the judge and his posse, the prosecutor, and the defendant and his lawyer. I can't say anything about the case until its conclusion, sorry. The first thing the judge does is ask if anyone would not be able to act in the jury for this case, which is expected to last one full day. This is where we enter, The Assholes. And I call them Assholes because look, nobody wants to be here dude, least of all the Defendant, so let's just get through this. But sure enough, four or five Assholes raise their hands and explain how all the deadines in the world are coming down the next day and how their jobs would just fall the fuck apart if they had to miss not one but two -- oh my gosh TWO! -- days of work. It's as if these Assholes have never called in sick before, or taken a few days vacation. It was pretty pitiful and reminded me of a kid whining because he didn't want to go to school. Worst of all it wasted even more fucking time.

And after a basic what's what, each juror has to stand up and answer a few basic questions: their name, where they live, marital status, if they've ever been a victim of a crime, if they've ever been convicted of a crime, if they have any law enforcement in their family, and if they've ever been on a jury before. With each person, the prosecutor gets to ask a few basic questions. "Oh you've had your house broken into before. Do you think that would affect your perception of law enforcement?" "You were on a jury before? Were you able to reach an agreement?" "You said you've been convicted of DUI two years ago. Do you think you can remain impartial if chosen for this jury?" Of course the Assholes took this opportunity reinforce what bad jurors they would make; one guy going off on a five minute tirade on how OJ Simpson bamboozled the legal system and another woman warning that she couldn't be impartial because she still has nightmares about her car being broken into four years ago. One older Hispanic lady pulled the, "No Hablas Igles," defense. And no, I'm not kidding.

And they asked those questions. For every single person. All twenty-five of us. One at a time. Slowly. And I understand they have to do it but Jesus Christ was that tedious. Twice we were interrupted when the judge had to call recess so he could back and tend to a jury in mid deliberations on another case. Finally we get called back in and everyone is interviewed. Then, the Defense gets to do the same thing, so we start all the fuck over again. And again The Assholes wouldn't give the attorney a straight answer on anything, "Do you think you could remain impartial in this case? "[after a nice long dramatic pause...] Well I don't know the facts of the case yet, so I can't say that I could be impartial." It's like dude, quit being a fucking crybaby and just take your medicine like the rest of us, will you? Yeah, seriously, this is why people cringe at jury duty. Anyway, when the Defendant's lawyer was done with her panel of questions, the judge calls recess again while the two sides pick out the jurors. And as we're all waiting outside the courtroom, everyone is like, "Oh God don't pick me." As for me, eh, I didn't really give a shit. I mean it's just one day out of my life; do I have shit to do? of course I do but if I were some poor fuck on trial I sure as hell wouldn't want a jury packed with people just looking for the quickest way to get home.

We all get called back in the courtroom at Five-O-Fucking-Clock in the afternoon and they begin to call the jurors forward. And I thought there would be twelve, but it turns out there's only six. So much for television. Who is the last person to be called, juror number six? That's right, me baby. I'm on the jury. Fighting for truth, justice and the American way... and helping to decide a man's fate at 9:30am this morning. So alas, there's not a real big update this morning, as this second day of jury duty is rather unexpected thus I didn't have anything prepared. I just threw a few things together before heading off to court. Wow, that sounds bad ass, eh?

The State Of Florida Vs Defendant-X, Part One.

The wheels of justice do indeed turn. The catch is they're wagon wheels, all of which have lots and lots of broken spokes.

As I expected, the 9:30am trial started promptly at 10:30am. Myself and my five fellow jurors were led back into the courtroom with all the pomp and circumstance of the gradating class of Harvard University, taking our seats in the jury box on the right side of the courtroom wall. Old habits from high school never die and I chose a seat in the back row, as did a few others. The Judge thanked us again for performing out civic duty and began explaining a basic outline of what's going to happen. It's his job to interpret the law, and our job to interpret the evidence and then apply the law that he gives us to the case. He further explains the definition of 'reasonable doubt' and I can't help but feel like I've been sucked into the television and am sitting in on an old rerun of Law and Order. Then on the Defence's request, we are instructed that while Defendant-X would not be taking the stand, we were in no way to interpret that as an admission of guilt nor evidence to the same. Defendant-X was simply exercising his Fifth Amendment rights. Then, we get to the good stuff. The charges.

On Christmas day of 2007, an Unfortunate Homeowner here in Cape Coral opened his garage door to carry out all the trash that accumulated from unwrapping presents, and after depositing said rubbish at his curb, returned back into the house to continue his festivities. On his way back in, he forgot to close his garage door. Here's where the bad guy music comes in because Defendant-X stands accused of riding up on his bicycle a short while later, entering Unfortunate Homeowner's garage and helping himself to some lawn tools; specifically a trimmer and an edger. Oh yes, that's right folks! With all the juicy shit going on down here in southwest Florida, I get a lawn care thief whose getaway vehicle is some old busted ass blue and purple bicycle! And after a short bicycle chase by: Unfortunate Homeowner, Unfortunate Homeowner's son, and Helpful Neighbor, the Defendant-X mastermind scheme to shake the very foundation of the lawncare industry is foiled and he is promptly arrested by Cape Coral's finest, summoned by a 911 call. For his troubles, Defendant-X has earned himself two felony charges: Burglary of a Dwelling and Grand Theft (greater than $300 but less than $5000) since the value of the two stolen items is claimed to be around $250 each.

Then just like television, next comes the opening arguments. And yes, just like Jack McCoy, the prosecution goes first. Only it's not Jack McCoy prosecuting this case, it's Newbie Prosecutor. I could tell he was a newbie because he was the younger of the two lawyers, maybe 25 or so, and appeared somewhat nervous at times. He also had the inability to look at the jury when speaking to us; rather he would look at the floor, the microphone, the ceiling, his notes, anything and everything except us. He would begin sentences only to stop mid word, look up or down, rifle through his notes and begin speaking again, only going down an completely different train of thought. But none of this came anywhere close to incompetence mind you, there just wasn't the spit and polish, or fluid monologues like we see on television. Denny Crane.

Once Newbie Prosecutor finished, then came Public Defender Lady. Whom I will say right off the bat had some very big tits, and although they were inconveniently tucked away inside a ladies suit coat, I could tell they were some blue ribbon winners. But she definitely struck me as the more experienced of the two counsels. And while occasionally fumbling over her thoughts like her adversary did, she was able to maintain good eye contact and generally looked more comfortable speaking in front of people. It was her contention that it was simply not possible for her client to have stolen said lawn equipment, and there was no way the prosecution could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he did and requested that we find her client Not Guilty.

And before we knew it, we had out first witness on the stand. Helpful Neighbor was called forward and after raising his right hand and promising to give honest testimony, sat his ass down in the witness's chair. As he was a prosecution witness, Newbie Prosecutor got first crack at him. And we the jury watched and listened over the next ten minutes as that broken spoked wagon wheel fumbled and wobbled it way down the road. Newbie Prosecutor asking simple questions, eliciting one simple fact at a time out of his witness and trying to recreate the events of that fateful Christmas morning, one excruciating detail at a time. And like television, the second the words, "he said/she said," came out of the witness's mouth, Public Defender Lady would leap from her chair exclaiming, "Objection Your Honor, Heresay" which would be soon followed by the Judge's low and monotone, "Sustained." This would cause Newbie Prosecutor to stick his nose back into his notes for a few seconds while he rephrased his question to get the answer he wanted without getting shit on by the Public Defender Lady again.

All said and done, Helpful Neighbor's testimony was this: he happens to be looking out the front window of his parent's living room and witnesses Defendant-X riding by on a bicycle only to turn into Unfortunate Homeowner's driveway, only to set his bike down and walking out of view. Finding this odd, Helpful Neighbor keeps watching and soon Defendant-X returns to view, only this time he's carrying Unfortunate Homeowner's orange lawn edger. Defendant-X then mounts his trusty steed and with the edger across his handlebars, begins his not-so-speedy getaway. Alert that something is amiss, Helpful Neighbor asks his father to check with Unfortunate Homeowner to see if he's missing some lawn equipment, while he Helpful Neighbor goes out to his car to get ready for a hot pursuit. Unfortunate Homeowner confirms to Helpful Neighbor's father that something is indeed missing and the three of them take off after Defendant-X; Helpful Neighbor in his car, Helpful Neighbor's father in his car, and the now Angry Homeowner on a bicycle of his own. Surely this would have been a sight to behold. Anyway, Helpful Neighbor gets there first and after screeching his tires to a halt in front of the fleeing Defendant-X and subsequently demanding that he drop the chalupa, Defendant-X tosses down the lawn edger and continues to ride away. Helpful Neighbor places the now discarded edger in his trunk and continues after Defendant-X, who is now being vigorously pursued by Angry Homeowner and Angry Homeowner's son who has now joined the pursuit, riding a bicycle of his own. Yeah we sure do get crazy down here in the Cape, eh?

So anyway, Helpful Neighbor gets done testifying and is sent along his merry way. Next up is Angry Homeowner , who true to his name, is really kind of a dick. But the real corker is right after he is sworn in and gets on the stand... he starts crying. No shit. Honest to goodness tears streaming down his face, tapping his fingers with one hand while holding up the other and asking for a minute to compose himself. It was pretty fucking weird. Anyway, once finding the courage to relive the story of how his lawn edger was taken from him, Angry Homeowner begins to testify and answer the Newbie Prosecutor's questions. The two go through great lengths to explain that Angry Homeowner's garage is indeed attached to his house, all under one roof and he and his family spend a great amount of time in his garage. The goal of which being to establish the garage as part of the main dwelling. Once that was done, they moves on to the items stolen.

And it's here the biggest stumble in the prosecution's case. Defendant-X was accused of stealing both a lawn edger and a lawn trimmer -- and what the fuck the difference is between those two, I have no idea -- each of which Angry Homeowner claims to be valued between $250-$260. Thus the combined total supposed to be in excess of $500, thus warranting the Grand Larceny charge. But in his deposition from back in 2008, Angry Homeowner made the off handed comment that be believes his edger was worth, "around $100." Then enter the lawn trimmer, which was never found either on Defendant-X or in the areas surrounding this little fiasco, and to this day remains unrecovered. Angry Homeowner states that the replacement cost of this trimmer was $323.

It's here I'd like to point something out to you folks who may one day be sitting in the witness chair. And that's this: don't be a dick. Seriously. Listen, we've all seen Law and Order on television. The opposing counsel is going to ask you a series of questions. Chances are you won't like them, as they're designed to paint you in a bad light and their client in a good one. Obviously you don't want to contribute to their efforts, but that's no excuse to be a dick. Public Defender Lady spent about five minutes trying to get Angry Homeowner to admit that he estimated the value of his four year old lawn edger to be about $100. She even had court transcripts of his deposition. She even brought those transcripts up the witness chair, and had Angry Homeowner read them to refresh his memory. And yet still, Angry Homeowner would not admit to ever having made those statements, getting a quite belligerent in the process. And in speaking with my fellow jurors later on, we all found Angry Homeowner to be quite the dickhead and in the end, discounted a lot of his testimony for that reason.

The last prosecution witness was a cop -- a rather short and portly cop, I might add -- who took the stand and in my opinion didn't offer dick shit to the case. She testified that as the second officer to arrive on the scene, Defendant-X was already in handcuffs and the lawn edger had been recovered. So what the fuck was she doing there? I dunno. I think Newbie Prosecutor just felt a little better having a police officer on the witness list. The only thing Public Defender Lady asked of the Fat Cop was why they didn't take pictures of the lawn edger in the back of the trunk where it was when they arrived on the scene, instead of placing it out on the ground like they did. All in all, very un-exciting testimony.

Then came closing arguments, and one thing they don't show you on television is while yes the prosecution goes first, they also get the opportunity to break their closing up into two parts and essentially go last as well. And as I sat listening to Newbie Prosecutor's closing arguments I could only sit back and wish I had a video camera because I'd love to show the footage to him in about twenty years. You want to talk about passionate? Like it was a fucking capital case. In between casting glances at his feet and the ceiling tiles, Newbie Prosecutor -- whose ink is probably still wet on his law degree -- went on for a good ten minutes on how terrible it was that Angry Homeowner's lawn edger was stolen. And how society would be a safer and better environment for us and our children is Defendant-X was to be found Guilty of these crimes. And and all the while I keep thinking in the back of my mine, "Dude, it's a weed eater."

Public Defender Lady went next and true to her earlier form, presented a much more polished and fluid closing. She challenged the value of the lawn edger. She questioned whether or not the unrecovered lawn trimmer even existed. She asked why the police had not collected any additional evidence beyond witness testimony, such as fingerprinting the lawn edger. And she questioned whether or not it would even be physically possible for a man to ride a bicycle with two motorized lawn tools stretched across his handlebars. She again reiterated that it was simply not possible for her client to be guilty of these crimes, and asked us to find him Not Guilty. Then Newbie Prosecutor was given one final chance for rebuttal and he only offered, "Dude, why in the hell would the cops fingerprint evidence that four witnesses watched Defendant-X drop?"

Then we were given our final instructions by the Judge. And here's where the wheels of justice kind of wobble again. Sure he goes past the easy shit, like how we have to elect a Jury Foreperson, reinforcing what reasonable doubt it, and how to fill out the verdict form. But then he goes into the exact definition of the applicable charges. And it's about five minutes out reading text out of a lawbook for each charge. Which wouldn't be so bad, except for the lesser charges; I'll explain. In the first count of Burglary of a Dwelling, there's about six or seven paragraphs detailing what this offense is. But if we don't find him guilty of that, we have the option of finding him guilty of a lesser charge, Burglary of a Structure. That too has its own six or seven paragraphs description, with the ONLY DIFFERENCE being the text, "and is designed to be occupied by people lodging therein at night, together with the curtilage thereof." Everything else? Exactly the same. And then there's the second count, Grand Larceny, which of course has its own six or seven paragraphs description. And there are not one, but TWO lesser charges for that, Petit Larceny in the 1st degree ($100-$300) and Petit Larceny in the 2nd degree (<$100) -- all three of which have the exact same legal description, save for the dollar amounts, and all three of which must be read individually. That got quite boring, belive you me.

Then with more fanfare -- it's neat having everyone in the room stand when you enter or leave -- and we retire to the jury room to elect a Foreperson an begin our deliberations.

The jury room we retired to looked very much like the coffee room of any given office building. There was a long table surrounded by seven hard backed chairs -- a seat for each juror plus the alternate. Yeah, we had an alternate too, a little Vietnamese guy who spoke perfectly well all through the selection process, but then once he was chosen pulled his best Jackie Chan accented, "I no speaka good Engrish!" excuse before being sent home on the first day. So with one vacant chair among us, we sat down to begin our deliberations. I suppose now is as good a time as any to introduce my fellow jurors: two white guys; White Construction Guy and Fellow Bald White Guy, Black Lady, Hispanic Lady, and White Lady. As Lord of the Internet and clearly the smartest person in the room -- a given no matter where I am -- I sat at the head of the table with my minions spread out before me. The first thing we had to do was select a Jury Foreperson; it was this person's job to bring some order to the deliberations, interface with the Bailiff who was standing guard outside the room, and present the verdict to the Court Clerk. White Lady put to the room, "So who is going to be our Foreperson?" An awkward silence fell about the room as conversations fell quiet and everyone found the old wooden desk to suddenly be very interesting. I had debated doing the touch-my-finger-to-my-nose routine, which would normally select the last person to catch on and do so as 'it' -- but let's be fair here, a guy's freedom was at stake so I didn't want to fuck around. I let the silence stand for about five seconds and then said fuck it and raised my hand. "I'll be the Foreperson." Everyone else breathed a sigh of relief and began their conversations again. That's right folks, I was the motherfucking Jury Foreperson

Firmly in charge I set about to my first task: compensation. I asked each of my fellow jurors to take out a $20 bill and pass it towards my end of the table. For some reason, they refused, so I set about to my second task, which was reading out the verdict form to everyone. You know that script you hear at the end of every trial, "In the case of State vs So-And-So, we the Jury find...," yeah it was like that. In the middle of the page were the two counts with check boxes next to each one. I as the Foreperson (and Lord of the Internet) would check off next to the charges we found Defendant-X guilty of, or next to the Not Guilty box, sign my name, and then send someone to the gallows. Our choices were: Guilty of Burglary of a Dwelling, Guilty of Burglary of a Structure, or Not Guilty. Then for the next charge: Guilty of Grand Larceny, Guilty of Petit Larceny 1st Degree, Guilty of Petit Larceny 2nd Degree, or Not Guilty.

First I took a straw poll around the room; what are people's first impressions as to Defendant-X's guilt in regards to having stolen some shit from Angry Homeowner. We all felt that Newbie Prosecutor had proved beyond a reasonable doubt that he did, and thus it was a unanimous 6-0 in favor of Guilty. I asked if anyone could think of a reasonable scenario that fit the facts that were presented to us, in which Defendant-X was not guilty; an evil twin, a guy who looked like him, etc. We could not. Comfortable that Defendant-X did indeed have sticky fingers, we found him guilty of stealing so the question now was to debate whether or not the garage constituted as part of the dwelling. And it's here that you have to know a little about Florida homes, or more specifically, Florida garages. Of the four years I've lived down here, I can count on one hand the number of detached garages I've seen. Virtually every house has an attached garage; and I don't mean just by a long covered walkway, I mean the garage is an integral part of the house. In my garage I've got cases of water, cases of soda, a freezer full of food, all sorts of shit that I use every day. Fellow Bald White Guy commented that his children often play in the garage, and White Lady noted she often sits in her garage to watch rainstorms. The group was clearly leaning towards finding the garage as part of the dwelling. Hispanic Lady asked for clarification on the, "designed to be occupied by people lodging therein at night," -- since one does not sleep in their garage, could it be part of the dwelling? I replied that while I didn't sleep in my kitchen, should someone break into it I would definitely consider that part of my dwelling. Convinced, she agreed and again it was unanimous - we had found Defendant-X guilty of Burglary of a Dwelling.

Next up was determining the value of the items stolen. Because the lawn trimmer was never found, I had reservations about Grand Larceny and was therefore leaning towards Petit Larceny in the 1st degree, since the only item I found myself willing to take into account -- the edger -- had been declared to be worth $250-$260. As I floated this out to my fellow Jurors, I was relieved to find they too had trouble taking the lawn trimmer -- or rather its absence -- into account. I mean Angry Homeowner could have very well said that Defendant-X stole $10,000 lying around his garage -- him saying it doesn't mean it was true, especially since we all found Angry Homeowner to be a dick. And thus we collectively agree that the lawn trimmer was out, and would base our decision solely upon the theft of the lawn edger. Again, I was perfectly ready to say Petit Larceny in the 1st degree ($100 - $300), but here's where the wisdom of our Forefathers comes into play. Two of the jurors - White Construction Guy and Fellow Bald White Guy - stated to the group that they had prior experience with landscaping and as such had a better grasp of what the tools might be worth. Both of these men explained that the service life of an edger is about four years, and while yes they're about $250 new, they depreciate VERY QUICKLY. Both assured us that you could easily pick up a used one for around $75. The other four of us, lumping me in with the chicks unfortunately, admittedly having no subject knowledge of lawn tools agreed that this would be the value we should use in determining the value for the stolen lawn edger. And thus I went around the room again, and we unanimously found Defendant-X guilty of Petit Larceny in the 2nd Degree. To be very clear -- had these two guys not spoken up I have no doubt it would have been the more serious 1st degree charge.

I checked off the appropriate boxes on the verdict form and with a stroke of my pen -- I felt pretty powerful I have to admit -- signed my name to the form that would bring bad news to Defendant-X and Public Defender Lady. I passed the signed form around the room one more time to make sure we were all in agreement. We were. As I got up to knock on the door to let the Bailiff know we had finished our deliberations, I could hear 'regular' chit-chat begin behind me. The Bailiff instructed us to remain in the room while he went and informed the Judge we were ready. That took all of two minutes and that was the first time that we actually introduced ourselves to our fellow jurors. Which was kind of cool, I think. While Defendant-X wasn't necessarily found guilty by a jury of his peers persay -- remember there were no brothers on the jury -- he was indeed found guilty by six complete strangers who didn't know each other from a bag of assholes.

And I was just kidding about the $20. It was only $10.

After a few minutes of waiting, the Bailiff returned to escort us back into the courtroom. And again with the pomp and circumstance as he announced our return, prompting everyone to stand as we entered. As the Foreperson, I was in the lead, but since I wanted to stay back to seat myself on the same side of the jury box as the Court Clerk, I stood aside and let the five other folks go in before me. The Judge gave us permission to sit, and we did. I held the verdict form in my hand, and I have to admit... it trembled a little bit. I gave it one last glance to make sure I had filled it out correctly, because who wants to look like a stupid ass in front of a courtroom full of people, eh?

The Judge asked if we had reached a verdict, and I acknowledged that we did. He then asked that the record reflect the Jury had returned with a verdict and then just like you see in television, had a Bailiff bring him the verdict form. The Judge looked it over and announced to the courtroom that he found no errors or omissions, and thus our verdict would stand. He then passed the verdict form to the Court Clerk, who stood up and pulled a microphone close to her lips. It was obvious she was going to read the verdict to the courtroom and I have to admit I was a little disappointed; I wanted to do it! You know, kind of like a kid wants to play with a police car's sirens. But alas, she spared me the opportunity to fumble my words, and read our verdict out clearly to everyone.

"IN THE CASE OF THE STATE OF FLORIDA VERSUS DEFENDANT-X, CASE NUMBER 1234567, IN THE FIRST COUNT WE THE JURY FIND THE DEFENDANT GUILTY OF BURGLARY OF A DWELLING." There was no hushed whispering in the courtroom, no dramatic gasps. I guess everyone saw this one coming? She continued, "IN THE SECOND COUNT WE FIND THE DEFENDANT GUILTY OF PETIT LARCENY IN THE SECOND DEGREE. SO SAW WE ALL." The Judge again asked the court record be updated to indicate our verdicts, and he asked if either of the two counsels would like the Jury to be polled for their individual verdicts. Obviously Newbie Prosecutor was fine with our decision, so he declined. Public Defender Lady wasn't as accommodating and took the Judge up on his offer. The Court Clerk then called off each of our names and asked if that was our verdict, and we each had to individually stand and answer yes. All six of us did, and with that both Public Defender Lady and Defendant-X were officially fucked.

Before dismissing us, the Judge first thanked us for our service and noted that under penalty of law, we could not be compelled by anyone except him, to discuss our deliberations in the Jury room. We could of course choose to do to -- as I am doing now -- but no one could compel us to. And with a wave of his hand and one final, "Thank you for your service," the Judge dismissed us from the courtroom. I would note that the exit was in the back of the courtroom, and thus our egress took us right between the Prosecutor and Defense desks. I suddenly realized that I would be walking within five feet of a man that my signature had just doomed to state prison. I wonder if he was going to leap at me and try to jab a pencil in my neck or something cool like that? Alas, he didn't. Although one Bailiff does indeed follow the jury all the way downstairs, out through the lobby and to the bus stop to catch the shuttle over to the Jury parking lot. I asked him if this was standard practice and he said it was; every so often the family of a defendant gets a little miffed at the Jury and decides to get a little rowdy. That is usually with a radio call for more Bailiffs, and the family are temporarily detained giving the Jury a chance to get on the shuttle and make a hasty retreat. Alas, there was no such excitement this time, as Defendant-X had no friends or family in the courtroom that day.

And with a roar of Big Red's 360 cubic inches of ass kicking goodness, I had completed my obligations to the judicial system of Lee County Florida for the next 365 days.

One thing I had forgotten to mention on the first day of the Judge's instructions to the Jury was: under no circumstances were we to perform any investigative work on this case. Meaning we were not to search out Defendant-X's name nor were we to visit the scene of the crime and/or talk to anyone about the case. To do so would be in Contempt of Court and we would be subject to a night in jail getting butt fucked by anyone who so chose to do so. This is of course why I didn't turn my cameraphone on in the courtroom, nor mention any specifics about the case until it was resolved, and even now I'm still only referring to him as Defendant-X. This is done to preserve the integrity of the court; during our deliberations we were only allowed to consider facts in evidence and as such, that's one of the reasons why we didn't consider the mystery trimmer in our decision making. I'm sure one of us can regurgitate a scene from television about prior bad acts. And in all honesty, I think it's a good idea because without it, there's simply no way we'd have given this guy a fair shake. Granted, we found his thieving ass guilty anyway, but our verdict was based upon the evidence on this specific case and not a preconceived notion of a career criminal. But the real jawdropper? We were never told of the potential penalties for the crimes in which Defendant-X is accused of comitting. But after some quick research, the penalty for Burglary of a Dwelling is up to a $10,000 fine and/or up to 15 years in prison. All because this asshole couldn't keep his hands off some old and busted lawn edger. I guess don't do the crime if ya can't do the time, eh?