By a Jury of Your Peers

There were 30 of us who, with some trepedation, took our seats yesterday in the relatively new courthouse downtown.

I sat between the absolutely perfect stereotype of a thirtysomething gaming/design geek (I say this with authority and fondness - Himself has a collection of thirty- and fortysomething gaming/design geek friends) and the picture perfect young physician's wife. Hair perfect. Nails perfect. (I noticed her nails because mine looked like they had been attacked by a nail-biting monster, when in fact it was only the vegetable peeler.) Trendy clothes. Even trendier highlights. Book on child rearing.

We all sized up the three lawyers in perfectly tailored navy suits, white shirts and colorful ties and the "just graduated" newbie lawyer with two days worth of growth, a light gray off-the-rack suit and a muted blue tie. He looked like his student loans were probably higher than whatever he was making as the other lawyers' lackey. He still had the "crusading for a cause" light that burns in every new law graduate's eyes.

All of us dutifully answered the questions issued by the judge, reportedly to help weed out the crazies, the extremists and those with strong opinions on litigation and tort reform. Deep, probing questions like, "What is your favorite television show?"(The most popular response was CSI); "What books do you read?" (Most popular: A good book. Most interesting: Your honor, I don't like to read); "What are the ages of your children?" (Lengthiest response: 12, complete with a detailed explanation on how she acquired all 12 children as a result of being widowed and remarried - three times).

There were 30 people - 80% female, about 50% retired. Half married, half divorced/widowed/single. 95% lifelong residents of The Frontier. One PhD with a domestic partner, an Ivy League education and strong opinions regarding tort reform. One high-school dropout who had been homeless, ran marathons as a hobby and spent 20 minutes trying to understand the judge's explanation of "tort reform". One Pakistani cab driver. One lawyer. A handful who owned or worked for small businesses. A handful with college degrees. People in suits, jeans, flip flops (FLIP FLOPS? IN COURT?!) carrying briefcases, handbags, reading material and court validation letters.

There was a woman with bottle-red hair who spoke of how the television was her best friend. There was the daughter of a lawyer, who was called to elaborate on her experience in medical malpractice cases as a former paralegal. There were the stereotyes beside me - he was single, read sci-fi, worked as a designer, played video games in his spare time; she was married to a doctor, had three kids, played tennis and watched reality TV. There was the woman who had lost a son to a brain aneurism, the woman who hadn't been downtown in several years and the widow of a prominent area businessman.

For 4.5 hours we sat there, exchanging life stories as if we were a reunion of people who were catching up after several decades. I felt like someone in NPR's "Story Corps" project as the court painted 3.5-minute life sketches of all of us. When I left, too far down the list to make the panel of eight jurors needed to start the trial, I realized that judicial process just might work. The selected group truly seemed a fair representation of The Frontier's Pollock-like makeup - mostly monochromatic with a few colorful surprises swirled in.

I hope the verdict is newsworthy. I'm dying to know the finale.