Unofficial Dallas County jury duty guide, or how three days in the Allen Courts Building restored my faith in the system

by Mike Orren

Texasbar.org looking for info on a lawyer, as I did, you'll learn a.) that the real site is at Texasbar.com and b.) that domain squatters think the court system is all about judges who look like Eric Celeste making eyes at sultry counsel." class="gallery">

Texasbar.org

If you go to Texasbar.org looking for info on a lawyer, as I did, you'll learn a.) that the real site is at Texasbar.com and b.) that domain squatters think the court system is all about judges who look like Eric Celeste making eyes at sultry counsel.

DALLAS — I don't know if our court system is getting more active, or I'm just paying more attention, but it seems there's been an uptick of people I know getting jury duty in the past couple months. The local courts have taken what seems an inordinate chunk of manhours from our small staff. (Four of us have been on juries in the past 60 days.) And my Twitter feed has been overrun with friends and jury stories.

I was one of those called recently, as I spent three days this month on a civil jury in Dallas Civil County Court at Law Number 3. I've never been picked for a jury before, and learned a lot from the experience, which I thought I'd share here, along with an assortment of tips picked up from others who have served lately.

(Important safety tip: Unless otherwise stated, all of the below is relevant to civil cases in Dallas County. While there are lots of things that carry over across jurisdictions, your milage may vary.)

I showed up at the George L. Allen, Sr. Courts building about 10 minutes late for the 8:30 a.m. start time. After making my way through the security checkpoint, I found all I'd missed was the initial herding into the jury intake room and the first few minutes of the cheesy video letting us know how important jury service is.

At that point, we were told there would be a break. I learned through the process that at least a quarter of the time spent at court is spent on breaks. I don't know if the staff needs the respite or they're catering to our short attention spans. I settled in to wait, already carefully managing my iPhone battery in anticipation of a potentially long day. While waiting, it occurred to me that a great revenue opportunity was being missed -- Why not let potential jurors (optionally) spend the downtime filling out some market research surveys with the compensation flowing to local government or charity?

After about 20 minutes, we were called in groups numbering a hundred and change to go to various courts. Note that while the group numbers were that big, our group was only about 30. I later heard from a pal at Texas Lawyer that only about 36% of those who get a jury summons actually show up, although a substantial part of the shortfall is due to bad addresses on mailed summonses.

Once we arrived at our assigned court, the bailiff, George Franklin, put us in order and took us into the courtroom to face Judge Sally Montgomery. Over the next few days, George would become our best pal and our best link to understanding what was going on.

Judgesallymontgomery.com

Judge Sally Montgomery

Judge Montgomery welcomed us, and gave us another speech about the importance of the jury system, albeit with a couple questionable points. She said that because of the jury system, "we need not fear violence in the country, as disputes are resolved by the rule of law." Clearly she's not been in the seedier parts of my neighborhood lately. She also pointed out that it was good we were learning about how the jury system worked firsthand because newspapers are full of misconceptions and aren't interested in telling the truth. (I assumed web-based journalists must be OK, though.)

She also told us that the trial would likely only last the one day.

I want to be clear at this point that I'm not going to get into the particulars of the case at hand, as they aren't applicable to the jury experience in general. Suffice to say that it was a very contentious business dispute with a claim and a counterclaim between family members who had been in business together.

The first order of business is Voir Dire, which for those of us who don't speak Latin daily is better understood as the process of picking the actual jurors from the available pool. Lawyers for each side ask questions, both in a polling form ("Who here thinks verbal contracts aren't valid?") and to individual jurors (Mr. Orren, have you ever sold a business before?)

Now I wouldn't counsel anyone to try to weasel their way out of jury duty, but there are some obvious things you can do that will keep you from getting picked. Jurors who expressed strong opinions during Voir Dire were absent after the cuts, as were those who, to put it kindly, couldn't shut their mouths. A couple of the "hopefuls" had to jump in with answers on every question, often rambling well beyond the scope of the question.

After Voir Dire, we were sent back into the hall while the attorneys haggled over who would make the jury. I was frankly shocked that I made the cut, as I had been grilled a bit by one of the attorneys on my stance on verbal contracts. I was later told by a lawyer friend that my position in the line (second) and college degree virtually assured that I would be picked.

The first surprise to me in terms of the composition of the jury was that there were six of us -- apparently civil cases use smaller panels. Also, despite the mix of the pool, the jury was all male. We congregated in the jury room, our new home-away-from-courtroom for the duration.

The group was an interesting mix, heavy on government employees. In addition to me, we had:

• A fireman
• A DART bus driver
• A water utilities manager
• A truck dispatcher
• A landscaper

Despite our diverse backgrounds, we formed a pretty close-knit group over what wound up being three long days. That was one thing that really impressed me about the whole thing -- based on demographics, there wasn't much chance that any of us would have met or become friends outside of jury duty. Now, I'd cross town to grab a beer with any of them.

We got to hear opening arguments before we broke for lunch. I bid my new compatriots adieu to grab lunch with a friend downtown and returned for a long afternoon of testimony. One of the things I wasn't expecting was the opportunity for jurors to submit questions to the judge to ask on our behalf at the end of each witness' examination. I suppose that it speaks to the thoroughness of the attorneys involved that we only did that twice in three days and four witnesses.

By mid-afternoon it was clear that testimony was going to go well beyond the suggested-but-not-promised single day. George gave us the opportunity to change our answers on the juror form regarding donating our juror stipend ($6 for day one; $40 for each day thereafter). I learned that I was the only one who had checked the donation box and, for then, held pat.

We returned the next morning for more testimony. Once that was concluded, we broke for an early lunch, with the admonishment Not To Be Late Returning, as the jury charge would be waiting for us at 1 p.m. sharp.

After a quick shuffle to Hooters and back (what do you expect from an all-male jury), we found ourselves waiting. And waiting. And waiting. All told, we sat until 5:30, with only occasional updates from George the bailiff to sate us. Excuses ran the gamut from difficult attorneys; to a twisty case; to printer troubles.

During that time, I learned a lot about operations of the Dallas Fire Department. Apparently firemen work shifts that are 24 hours on and 24 hours off. Small firehouses are less desirable, because there's no way to get any privacy during downtime. I also learned how DART hands out routes and that many drivers work 11-hour days on a split shift. I learned a lot about in-car GPS systems. My colleagues learned a bit about the news biz. George entertained us with a story about the more than twenty year-old bullet in the ceiling of the jury room; tales of rare gunplay in the courthouse; and his long-ago tryout to be a kicker for the Dallas Cowboys.

Finally, around 5:30, Judge Montgomery and George came by to let us know that the jury charge was ready and gave us a choice between hearing closing arguments then and deliberating the following day or doing the whole shebang in the morning. After conferring, we jurors decided against the double-whammy of staying late and returning the next day in favor of a morning return. Montgomery invited us to come early to see her dispensing justice in other matters, once again citing it as an opportunity to free ourselves from the slavery of newspaper lies. I respectfully declined, meaning that I just didn't show up until the appointed hour.

Now if you've never served on a civil jury or earned your keep as a lawyer, you probably don't understand the importance of the long-awaited "jury charge." It's a document of questions the jury must answer in rendering a verdict. Think of it as a "Choose Your Own Adventure" with lots of conditional questions. You don't get to just pick a side willy-nilly and announce damages. There's a long (in our case, 15 page) guide.

The attorneys for each side walked us through the document, making their cases along the way, and we then finally got to deliberate. I was elected jury foreman and given the responsibility of signing off on the verdict (if unanimous) and delivering it to the judge. I also had to send any questions we had to the judge, including a notation of a critical typo in the document.

Despite the drudgery-based humor that had pervaded the day before ("Let's bring dice tomorrow to decide." "Is the death penalty an option?"), I was really impressed with how seriously the whole group took the charge. Without getting too specific, there was one way to approach it that was a gut: "Here's what we think is right." There was another way that was more precise and involved a lot of math to get to a similar, but not identical, answer.

We did the math.

After about ninety minutes of deliberation, we delivered a unanimous verdict. The judge thanked us for our service and told us we were free to talk to the attorneys if we wished.

As we walked out, we were approached and thanked by attorneys from both sides, but made sure to keep moving and not dally for further chitchat. We were ready to go home.

As we six left the elevator, it was handshakes and high-fives all around. All agreed that we'd rather not have been called, but were proud of the job we'd done. I was truly buoyed by the notion that you could throw six people into a less-than-ideal situation and get a good outcome. That said, I was a little saddened to look up the case this morning and see a Motion for Dismissal hearing scheduled for next month. I'll probably check up then to see if justice is blind and forgetful.

• Staff
• Verified User
• Anonymous

I think lots of people are getting called to Jury Duty because a lot of people voted last year in the Presidential Election. Nice story, Mike!

Christin Richard Verified

4 months ago
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I had a mixed bag with the jury system. Dallas County was by far the worst experience for me. I was selected for a pool in a criminal case. My fellow potential jurors could not get over the fact that someone who killed someone with a knife could be sentenced to anywhere from probation to life. That was a big sticking point by the lawyers. I was not selected and didn't get out of there until around 3pm. I should have kept my $6 to pay for the awful food their cafeteria served.

Now that I live in Denton County, I was summoned last year. The first day I had a fever of 100+ and managed to get the judge presiding over the jury waiting room to postpone for me since I looked like death warmed over. Going back two weeks later, they assured all of us would be on a trial due to the large number of cases. I was selected for another criminal case and told to report back the following day. About 2 hours later a bailiff called on the phone and said the trial was cancelled and I was scott free.

John McClelland Verified

4 months ago
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A straggling recent jury tale from A Reader Who Must Not Be Named:

<i>I was in jury duty for two days, the first cattle call of 700 for assignment to jury pools. I landed in a pool of 52 for a district-court assignment. We're carefully herded into the courtroom and we're lectured on basic jury rules from the judge and prosectors. The prosecutors ask specifics on questionnaires we submitted the previous day, weeding out all those who might have religious or moral issues with the judicial process. The defendant in this aggravated robbery charge watches intently as most awkwardly answer personal questions. Before the defense has its turn, and our bladders are on the verge of rupturing, we're adjourned for a 20-minute break. We get back on time, but we're told to hold on; when we file back into the courtroom, the defendant is gone. The judge tells us he has some fine prosecutors and defense attorneys who worked out a plea bargain, but he assured us we did our part. "Your service is done." We collect $46 and justice is meted. It wasn't a bad experience. Court personnel were kurt, especially bailiffs.</i>

Mike Orren Staff

4 months ago
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I sincerely hope we aren't going to be treated to Mike Orren's "Adventures at the Proctologist, or How 30 minutes on the colonoscopy table restored my faith in the healthcare system."

On the other hand, it might be more interesting than this epic.

Kirby Anonymous

4 months ago
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Hopefully that report will come with video.

Pavel Lishin Verified

4 months ago
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