If You Didn't Know Better, You Might Assume That Each of Us Was a Gambler Down in Georgia, the Father of a Ramblin' Man

When we last convened, Val had just been impaled by the crazy-eyed gaze of Client, a mere ten feet away, with only a table and 30-inch high wooden railing  separating them.

I quickly looked away. WTF? Was I the only one who saw that? I turned my attention back to the questioning.

Each attorney was allowed to address the jurors. As prosecutor, Mr. FBI had gone first. Unless you've been privy (heh, heh, I said PRIVY!) to courtroom proceedings, you may not understand how dry and unstimulating this can be. Mr. FBI started by asking if any of us potential jurors knew him. Show of hands. Then he asked each one, after stating their number and name, not HOW they knew him, but if they could set aside their relationship with him. If they could be fair and impartial. For each. And every. Juror who raised a hand. Then Mr. FBI asked if any of us knew his assistant. Same questions. For each. And every. Juror who raised a hand. From there it went to the prosecutor's office. Any dealings with them? Could we put that aside? Could we be fair and impartial? One juror answered no. There was a flurry of name-scratching on the part of both attorneys. Let the record show that with 80 potential jurors, this was a lengthy process. I swear, one lady answered yes to every inquiry.

Then Dr. Leary had his turn. He began by looking at my pew and the one behind me. "Hello there. You are what we call THE OTHER JURORS. Let me just tell you, you have no chance of being chosen. We will select our jurors, and eliminate the ones we don't want, and then pick the first twelve. In fact, I am only going to pursue questioning up to number 40. The rest would be a waste of time."

"First of all, I would like to thank Mr. FBI for the fact that I now know all of the social relationships of the entire population of Backroads County. Now. Do any of you know me? I don't see any hands. Perhaps some of you know my client, Mr. Client. He used to run a business in the area, Backroads Roadstars. How many of you know him? Again, I see no hands. Let me explain to you that my client has been accused of two counts of assault, although he never touched anybody. He has been accused of waving a replica gun at a parole officer and a police officer. Those professionals carry weapons, yet they never drew their weapons on my client. In fact, they will tell you that my client, at the time he was holding the replica weapon, was heard to say, 'This thing doesn't even work.' How many of you would say my client was still guilty of assault, if he was not proven to have acted recklessly, but the officers were still afraid? Even though they did not draw their weapons?"

At that point, Mr. FBI objected that this was not the time to try the case. His objection was sustained. Dr. Leary argued about Mr. FBI's previous line of questioning. Both attorneys were told to approach the bench. Judge Missy Miss climbed down from her lofty perch to consult. She cautioned Dr. Leary to speak more quietly. This was one of several objections, sustainings, and bench conferences, one of which was taken to chambers due to volume and excitement on the part of Dr. Leary.

Dr. Leary returned to pursue his questions, in a barely different manner. As he was questioning the hand-raisers, he got to that lady who had seemingly raised her hand to every question up to now. "You've had enough opportunities to talk, Mrs. Handraiser. I think we have enough information from you."

And so it went. The jurors created a hubbub when one asked it the replica gun was a reproduction of an antique, or a toy like an Airsoft gun. Dr. Leary stated that it was an Airsoft. Then the question arose as to whether it had the red tip that identifies it as a toy. No. It did not have the red tip. Much murmuring ensued. Judge Missy Miss rebuked us. Didn't we understand that the stenographer had to record EVERYTHING in the courtroom? And she could not record multiple conversations. So we shut up. Not that Val had even parted her lips. Or moved her eyes off of Dr. Leary.

Then Dr. Leary asked how many of us had previously had a gun pointed at us. Over 20 hands shot up. I then glanced at my pew-mates, being careful not to let my gaze stray in the direction of Ol' Crazy Eyes. We all, hands down, had a look like "WTF?" Only in Backroads, I suppose, would you find a plethora of potential jurors who have been on the business end of a gun.

Dr. Leary finished his juror questions, then the official parties retired to chambers. Client was led out of the courtroom to a conference room. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The way I remember from my last jury trial, both lawyers pick the jurors they want. Then they go through the list with the judge. Each of them gets a certain amount of strikes, or jurors they can exclude that are wanted by the other attorney. After that, starting with #1, the first 12 non-strikeout jurors are picked.

While we waited about an hour for that grand announcement, I had time to organize my thoughts on Client and his trial.

Tomorrow I'll reveal those thoughts, in the conclusion of our continuing series on Backroads Justice.
_________________________________________________________________________

Here's the reference for the title. I'm sure SOMEBODY will ask!