The courts need me

Table of Contents

Reading Time: 4 minutesSome time ago I was selected at random (although this is the second time in 12 months) to be in a pool of suitable jurors. I say suitable but at my second attempt I was challenged, i.e rejected. Despite what they say, it was taken as a personal slight of sorts, but I’ve got over it. I mean who wouldn’t want me playing a major role in deciding their freedom. So what about my involvement with the court? Do the courts need me?

The process is quite interesting, if not dull and a waste of time in other ways. You respond to the initial call up with any plausible reason for excusal and send the form back. In my case it was only once I’d been selected and given a panel id and unique number that I wrote asking to be trimmed off the end of my allotted three week period. They granted that request, and so I waited. It seemed to be an indicator for the waiting that followed.

Details

As a panel member you call a telephone number or visit:

http://www.courts.qld.gov.au/__external/CourtsLawList/Southport.htm – to see if you’re required to attend.

If so, and I was twice, it’s on the buses I go. First on a Monday and then a Tuesday of the next week. The court has loads of action and many attempts to schedule a trial and herd some 80-odd people (very odd indeed in some cases) into a room – holding yard. We watch a lovely video explaining our duties, what to expect and then wait for it, yes we wait. A bit like motion picture making, hurry up and wait, then wait some more.

Well, here I am waiting and then after some hours of behind the scene court action, we’re whisked downstairs to the court room in question. We cram in and take all free chairs and floor space in the gallery area and await our name to be called out of a bingo barrel. If called we state very proudly – present, stand up and wander with purpose, under the gaze of all in the room, past the regally gowned legal bodies, defense and prosecution to the bailiff at the end of the bar. You then swear an oath, on the bible or as I nearly got to do, an affirmation.

The process

The first week I saw a large number of people return from the walk of nervousness, as they were challenged = defence or standby = prosecution. Those that made it to the bailiff gave “swore” and were then guided to a juror’s chair, “mind the step” featured highly in this guidance. So the remaining uncalled and rejected souls are then free to go back to the holding yard. The theatrical nature of the proceedings is very interesting, despite the dreadful reason for us being there. I don’t believe it isn’t against any instructions for me to state that both the Monday and the Tuesday cattle calls were for charges of rape. These details are publicly available somewhere me thinks.

After being relocated back to the yard (after the first trial rejection) we sat waiting for a trial that was going to last about three weeks, a Commonwealth matter for the tax department, with computer screens at each juror’s chair and live video links all over the place. Well, the fact that the bailiffs couldn’t get the Tv to show the movie without help, none of us were then surprised to find that the techs couldn’t get the equipment to work in the court. So after an age of delightful delay we were sent home. This case hasn’t resurfaced on the list so maybe they’ve relocated that business elsewhere.

Back again

Any-who, here I am back again the following week and the court house is as busy as blazes in dealing with the QLD government’s reaction to OMGs (big bad bikies) and the three thousand police rostered about the court house to protect? Every media outlet had score of bodies and cameras there as well, as it turned out – all to catch the fellow’s girlfriend coming out of the building. She has deep red hair and some tattoos and gee wiz, her walking down the footpath demanded the media frenzy. She told one reporter to get the microphone out of her face, scandalous! And then the media printed a photo show a close up of her neck ink and describing it’s meaning.

So back to me, I’m in the holding yard and ready for my next adventure. This time my name is called, present bold and strong and off I go walking the walk of shame and pride in one. I get to an inch off the affirmation and I hear a mumbled “challenge” so I pirouette and return to my seat. Judge gives a pass and we’re off, no more for today.

I must regale you with my public transport tale as well. The bus trip home on the first day was a fascinating peek into the level of sheer stupidity bouncing about in our local population. Three homeless people looked like they’d set up home on the bus, they had all of their possessions with them and had spread them out over the storage section for suitcases, they proudly displayed and manipulated their coins, (sadly not many), pieces of paper, beer cans and some unknown products wrapped in paper. Behind me I heard tales of man on man prison sex and love, fights, drug use, the merits of the parole system and an unusual description of a love life going wrong. It really was terribly enlightening, especially considering where I’d just come from.

I looked at the list on Friday night and it seems I’m no longer wanted, my time might be up, but never fear I may get another chance to help pass judgement on my peers, as soon as I find some.