Chapter 4 - Voir Dire

“My company wrote a letter to the court asking that I be excused from jury duty, the judge actually just laughed at that”

Juror #117 

I arrived at court on May 14th and headed straight upstairs to the large jury assembly room. When I walked through the door at 8:20 a.m., I expected to find maybe 20 people there as potential jurors or alternates—wrong! I was surprised to see at least 50 people in the room. I immediately realized, "Oh my gosh, jury selection is STILL going on." I was oddly comforted to see that jurors #117 and #123 were still present. I was glad that a couple of people with whom I had made some connections were still part of this process.

After waiting about 20 minutes in the large jury assembly room, the bailiff arrived and led us upstairs to the now-familiar 3rd-floor rotunda. She lined us up as we had been in the past, but this time with significantly fewer people. Even with the reduced number, I was still a little past halfway in the line. I looked at where I was in line and I thought to myself, "whatever the process was going be today, there was no way things would roll all the way down to me." 

As before, once the bailiff had us all lined up, she led us into the courtroom where all the parties we had seen a few weeks ago were standing as we entered. We took our seats. I was in a similar spot as before, but this time each row had a bit more elbow room. Once Judge Phelps informed the rest of the courtroom that they could be seated, she greeted us and explained what would happen that day.

Judge Phelps explained that the next and final step in the jury selection process would be voir dire. I thought to myself, "Ah, now this I am familiar with." Voir dire (meaning "to tell the truth") is a process where the attorneys ask questions of the entire group, and certain people might raise their cards to answer, or they may pick someone they want to hear from. For a couple of hours, this back-and-forth took place: the prosecution asked questions, people chimed in, and then the defense did the same.

As far as the questions went, they hit us with some of the same themes we had been questioned and had discussed in the one-on-one interviews. They also delved into how we felt when we received the jury summons postcard. I raised my card and joked that I had sent a picture of the postcard to my wife, who responded that it was my "happy day." I then became more serious, discussing how I genuinely believe that serving on a jury is as important as voting. It is something we must do in a just and free society.

There was some discussion about how we all lead, and how we deal with different opinions to reach consensus.

At one point, we talked about people's views on homelessness. A Black woman in her mid-40s, who works with the homeless as a social work supervisor, made a poignant statement: "I always tell my people that all of them are potentially one paycheck away from being on the other side of the window." As she spoke, I thought she was clearly a strong advocate for the homeless and might be biased in certain ways. After hearing her passionate views, I was surprised she was still in the jury pool given all the questionnaires and one-on-one interviews.

The attorneys wrapped up their questions around 11:30 a.m., and the judge sent us to lunch until 1:15 p.m. Before letting us go, Judge Phelps addressed us, saying, "In all of my years on the bench, this is the longest and most drawn-out jury selection I have ever had to implement." She then emphatically stated, "Be assured, you will KNOW by the end of the day whether you are on the panel or not. The jury WILL be impaneled by the end of today." After months of back-and-forth to the court, that was very reassuring to hear.

Upon returning from lunch, we were once again led to the courtroom and took our places from the morning. As I looked at where I was compared to the 16 jurors in the jury box, I figured that the people in that box were the jury unless they were dismissed by either side. I thought a few folks might be dismissed, but not enough for my number to come up.

The process resumed: one side whispered among themselves, wrote something down on paper, and handed it to the opposing side. The attorneys reviewed it, then handed the paper to Judge Phelps. Judge Phelps did a bit of paperwork, maybe whispered something to either counsel, and then announced, "The court thanks and releases jurors number 7 and number 15. Thank you for your service." Those jurors then handed their juror number cards back to the bailiff and exited the courtroom.

With two spots now open in the jury box, the judge called for the next two jurors from the gallery, working from the right side of the room to the left. There were at least seven people seated on the right side. I was seated next to the woman from earlier, second in on the left side of the room. The judge instructed the new jurors to take the seats of those who had departed from the jury box. One of them ended up in the first row, the other somewhere in the back row.

The process continued as before: one side wrote something down, handed it to the other side, and the judge reviewed it. This time, instead of dismissing a couple of jurors, the judge stated that we have a situation where we need everyone to exit the room while the parties discuss something. With that, we all filed into the rotunda staying in our order. At first the group of us were fairly quiet, but as the minutes ticked by, the rotunda started to buzz with conversation. All of us vacillated between curiosity about what was happening and frustration over the delay. After what seemed like an eternity (but was probably only about 15 minutes), we were led back into the courtroom and returned to our spots. The judge then dismissed two more jurors from the box and replaced them with two from the gallery.

Now, four from the gallery had been placed in the box, but I still thought it unlikely they would reach me. That said, I was getting closer to the front of the line.

In the next round, one juror from the box was excused and one from the gallery. I thought, "Hmm, okay, they seem focused on those in the box, but they could strike anyone."  It was at this point that the juror who was a strong advocate for the homeless was called to the newly open spot in the jury box.

I believe it was the defense’s turn to select jurors to dismiss. They went through the paper exchange process, and once again, the judge sent us out of the room.

In the rotunda, I chatted with juror #117, who was from my town, and we discussed how our kids might have attended the same school. We had a nice conversation about the local high school and restaurants. I mentioned that it was getting close to her turn and joked that she might end up on the jury. She replied that she hoped not and shared that her company had written a letter to the court. I said, “Well, I don’t know about your one-on-one, but from this morning, it seems like you might not be objectionable to either side. You might be stuck.”

I then talked with juror #123, speculating on the process. Based on the Trump trial which had been all over the news in recent days, I guessed that each side had a certain number of strikes, some for cause and others for any reason. I wondered if maybe the sides were trying to strike jurors for cause, but the judge disagreed, and they had to discuss it. But… who knows?

As we continued the conversation, we discussed that with 16 chairs in the jury box, there must be four alternates. We talked about how a normal jury has just 12 jurors and speculated that whoever ended up in chairs 13-16 would likely be alternates. I mentioned that it would be disappointing to be present throughout the trial and then not get to finish it.

Other potential jurors joined our conversation, and we all speculated about what could be happening inside the courtroom. We kept our discussion general to avoid violating the judge’s orders. We talked about the jury selection process, how each side gets strikes for cause and for any reason, and wondered about the number of strikes and the duration of the process. At one point, I turned to someone and said, “I feel like I am back in fifth grade, and I am in a very high stakes picking of teams.”

I didn’t say it out loud, but I thought the current makeup of the jury box was not very diverse. I wondered if the defense was trying to strike the outspoken homeless advocate, but she was one of only two Black individuals in the jury box. I wondered if this was a point of contention with the judge, and upon receiving the paperwork from the defense, she might not allow the dismissal. I kept this thought to myself and continued the conversation with the group.

After being out in the rotunda for a good stretch, we were finally led back into the room. After that long pause of whatever was happening in the courtroom, two more jurors are summarily dismissed. The judge proceeded down the line, and as I looked at those remaining in our row, Santa was now on the aisle on the right side of the room, and #117 was next to me. I turned to her and said, “You’re next.”

True to form, papers flew, and Santa was moved to juror box position 1 while #117 was placed in position 16. I turned to #123 on my left and said, with a nervous pit in my stomach, “Whoa, we’re next. I can’t believe it.” I couldn’t believe the striking process had gone on for so long; I never thought I would get that close to being put in the box.

I knew it was my turn if the striking process continued, and sure enough, the papers started flying again. Judge Phelps released two more jurors from the box. I was very surprised to see that, as quickly as juror #117 had been put into the box, she was just as quickly released. With her serious but kind voice, Judge Phelps exclaimed, “Juror #119, please take seat #9, and juror #121, please take seat #16.” Just like that, I was in the box.

I had assured my wife that I thought I was so far down the list of jurors that there was no way I could possibly end up on this trial, which I couldn't tell her anything about, but she knew it must be something significant. I wondered to myself, "How many more rounds of this will there be?" I thought, "Oh my gosh, I’m going to be stuck with Santa for six weeks, and there’s never going to be a moment of silence." I sat there nervously wondering, "Will this be how the jury box stays, or might they strike me?"

At this point, I must admit, I was hoping they kept the process going. I was overwhelmed with panic raging through me. I had a panic over the many weeks of disruption this trial would cause my life, and maybe more viscerally, a panic over how I would manage to endure the endless jabbering of Santa for many weeks.

About two or three more rounds went by, and Santa was released. Phew, what a relief. He was a very nice guy, but I was genuinely concerned about everyone's sanity. I think it was the prosecution that let him go, and I wondered if they also realized he would be difficult for everyone else on the jury to manage.

Suddenly, without warning, the judge addressed the courtroom. “Okay...we have a panel. Are there any objections to this panel from either side?” The prosecution and defense both answered, “No, Your Honor.” It was a surreal moment for me; I was on this jury. I felt a mix of emotions, from the awesome responsibility of needing to weigh evidence that would be presented to me fairly to a feeling of fear of being on a jury that I knew would receive news coverage. I was very concerned about how long this process might take, and given how slowly things had progressed up to this point, I was genuinely nervous that the trial could drag on for months.

I didn’t need to be told, but Judge Phelps then informed the 16 of us sitting there that we were the official jury panel. She became very serious and once again gave explicit instructions: we shouldn’t watch the news or talk to family and friends about the trial. She stated sternly, "I have never, in all my years as a judge, had to jail anyone for contempt, but in this case, I WILL send charges to the prosecutor for contempt if you violate my orders at all." That was a “fear of God” moment for me.

With that, she sent us back to the jury room right behind the courtroom. As the 16 of us entered, we quickly realized that it was not a very big room for so many people. We also knew we were likely going to be stuck in that room a lot.

The bailiff then went over some housekeeping. She instructed us to be back on Thursday by 8:30 a.m. for the start of the trial. One of the jurors asked, “So...who are the alternates?” The bailiff informed us that there would be 12 deliberating jurors, meaning there would be 4 alternates. While I had thought that jurors #13-16 would automatically be alternates, she made it seem that the alternates would be chosen randomly. She told us we would not be informed of the actual deliberating jurors until the end of closing arguments. I wondered to myself, "Really? Or is that just what they’re saying to keep everyone engaged?" My experience has always been that juror numbers mean something and that there is always some order to the chaos. I still figured they would go right down the chair numbers in the end.

As we left the jury room and chatted on the way to our cars in the parking garage, we all seemed to share the feeling of “Whoa, that just happened.”