Hubby was sent THE letter of dread the other day; the correspondence that leaves most of us cold with fear.
He’d been summoned for jury duty.
He was actually summoned back in January. But that was the absolute worse time for him to be absent from work, so he postponed it.
He shouldn’t have. Come to find out, the group he had been originally scheduled in had been excused.
The time had come for him to call about his group. He was group one, which usually means, yep, he was still expected to report.
He wasn’t really nervous about it, but when he popped in the movie “The Juror” Sunday night, I knew it was on his mind. Of course, this movie did not set my mind at ease. I immediately started imagining hubby being thrust into an awkward situation: it was a child-molestation case and even though the guy was guilty, he gets off on a technicality, it’s a murder case and the jurors find the guy guilty, verdict – death penalty.
Would you want to be in a position where you had to decide whether or not a person lives or dies? I wouldn’t.
So, I was a little worried.
Hubby gets up early Monday morning and heads out. He appears calm, but I sense he’s a little nervous. I suspect mainly because he’s never actually had to go to the courthouse before, he’s always been excused in the past.
Though a little apprehensive, I also sensed he was curious. It’s one thing to hear about trials, to watch them on TV or in movies, but to actually participate in one, to actually witness, first-hand, our judicial system, flaws and all? It was sort of exciting.
It was hard to go about my business as usual knowing he was at the courthouse doing only God knows what.
Finally, about 1:45 p.m., I get the phone call.