I'm pretty ticked off at 500 people who live in Broward County.
I spent seven hours with them yesterday in a jury pool. I wanted to be there. They did not.
While I sat there so hoping to fulfill my civic duty of serving on a trial, allowing some defendant to get his or her fair day in court, everyone around me moaned and complained about having to be there and how awful it was the government made them do it.
And the scary thing is, I wouldn't want some of them serving on a trial that would determine my fate! I mean, really … if you can't follow simple instructions like "Don't bring coffee into this room," or "Don't talk on your cell phone," then how can you possibly interpret laws in a way to make a fair judgment on behalf of a defendant?
Yet, these are the people whose numbers kept being called while I sat and waited.
Perhaps God was protecting me. You see, I have an incredibly naïve and Polly-Anna perspective on life. Matt has denied my access to watching NBC Dateline because I end up in such a funk after watching it. Maybe the 27 trials in the Broward County courts yesterday were of such perverted and vile nature that God knew my brain couldn't go there.
So, I'll just have to settle for serving my civic duty when I go to vote in my first Broward County election on November 4. I hope my chads don't hang.
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