:eek: Then what happened?
We concluded he was, indeed, guilty; however, I was so put out by her obnoxious behavior I took some convincing 
.
Well, you have to be sure.
The one time I was called for jury duty, we were not allowed to take any “papers” into the trial with us other than a blank notebook that was collected at the end of the day and returned the next day. So no sudoku or search-a-word or crosswords for us!
So did you guys ever figure out what the M-H word was? Or does anyone else know?
I’ve never served on a jury before but one time I was in the potential jury lounge watching the tv and reading and then a disturbance began on the other side of the room between two women. Within a minute or two some security came and escorted one of the women away.
Apparantly the woman was not happy to be there and was cussing away about how this is such bullshit and how could they do this to her and what a bunch of a-holes the lawyers and judges were for doing this to her and on and on. Well the other lady was getting tired of hearing it so she told the angry lady to shut up and just deal with it and the angry lady took offense and was wanting to fight the non-angry lady. So the security took the angry lady away.
In my make believe world I pictured the security taking her to a cell and locking her up for an hour or two so she could calm down.
Better yet, lock her up for the entire week of her jury service. 
Clearly you would make a better dictater than I. 
Tahssa,
We did not figure it out at the time. It seems like I’ve subsequently read a post on this messageboard which made me have a lightbulb moment, but I only remember the lightbulb moment, not the thread itself.
I’m so lost…the only thing I can think of is when I was in elementary school and we’d sometimes say “mother humper” to avoid getting in trouble for cursing.
That’s what came to my mind too but how can that be worse that mother fucker?
Oh well I’ll just let it go and stop hijacking your thread.
Because the defendent was incredibly stupid? He was, I assure you. As was the victim, and in fact most non-professional people that I heard from on the witness stand that month.
But I don’t think that was it–I think the m-h-word that caused the lightbulb moment did in fact strike me as more potentially offensive than that.
I have mentioned this story on the boards before, but it is hopefully appropriate here …
Some years ago I was summoned to do two weeks jury service in a major British city. Initially lots of hanging around as the pool was gradually divvied up into juries, but eventually I get onto one.
The case was intrinsically distressing, since the charge was effectively a prostitute being violently raped by one of her clients. Since there were only the two witnesses appearing to be cross-examined, it only took about a day to actually hear both sides of the case before we were sent to determine our verdict.
The first order of business in the juryroom was to choose a foreman. As I’d anticipated - while everyone is cautious about discussing their background, I was articulate and obviously not local, so could easily be pegged as probably associated with the city’s university and hence seen, rightly or wrongly, as a suitable choice - I get suggested. I decline. It then devolves to the oldest member, a tiny, frail seventysomething bloke with a military bearing. This turns out to be absolutely the right choice.
Deliberation is difficult, but serious and concientious. Initially, I’m the most vocal in arguing that we could reach a guilty verdict, but there’s that incrediably powerful sense of a consensus emerging in the room as everyone thrashes out their doubts and the group collectively edges towards a verdict.
The fly in the ointment from the start is one particular juror. Even in the initial few days of waiting to be summoned on to a jury, he’d stood out amongst the couple of hundred-strong random cross-section of the British public assembled in the holding pen. Pacing about in obvious extreme anxiety. After a day or two, people had begun to whisper “I bet I wind up on a jury with him” and that sort of comment.
We did.
There were a couple of odd outbursts from him during the trial, but nothing that reached the attention of the judge or lawyers. Amongst ourselves, the rest of the jury had acknowledged that he was probably mentally ill and that his behaviour might be a problem. We were all prepared to play it softly and avoid a confrontation.
During deliberations, he’s quiet but at one point goes into a huge paranoid tirade about the prostitute. Basically, she’s a) a prostitute and b) not local and hence is a whoring jezabel obviously determined to lie to run down the good local boy who is the defendant. One juror is just sharp enough with him to halt this rant.
First vote: 10-2 in favour of guilt. He’s part of the minority. Some more discussion, then another vote: 11-1 and he’s the vote that has switched. We kick the doubts round a bit more, then another vote: 12-0.
Immediate impact is immense relief. The usher is summoned and she tells us to sit tight in the room for ten minutes while she assembles the court. Everyone sits quietly collecting their thoughts.
Until the bloke jumps up and starts shouting at us all. Completely out of control. A very big guy in a very small and crowded room.
To the extent he makes sense, it’s an even more vicious, paranoid version of his earlier rant, now with random anti-Jewish aspects thrown in, denouncing us all for not being loyal to the city. At the top of his voice, he abuses the foreman as not being from the city (he’s from the outskirts) and the juror who called him out earlier as a Jewish bitch … As I realise that I’m next in line - and that I’m the one person in the room who really can’t claim to be local in any way, shape or form - the thought that goes through my brain is explicitly: I’m on the other side of the table and there are other blokes closer; I’m not going to have to throw the first punch here …
What actually happens at exactly this moment is that the elderly foreman stands up. Raising up to his full height of about five foot and all his military training, he crisply orders the guy to shut up and sit down. “You took the decision with the rest of us.” But his brilliant touch is that he immediately follows this up with the declaration that he is going to get the usher and stalks out the room. With this confrontation and then the sudden disappearence of his confronter, the guy gets confused. Without the foreman to attack, he starts to hesitate and then crumple.
The tactic works and by the time the usher and the foreman return he’s collapsed in on himself. No doubt expecting the majesty of the proceedings to be daunting, the usher tells him that we will go into court as planned and that if he’s anything to say, to say it to the judge. This works. He doesn’t breathe a word as the foreman delivers our guilty verdict.
He was dismissed from the rest of his fortnight’s service by the usher as we left the courtroom.
Bolding mine. I’m not doing research or anything, but how exactly does that work? Did he have some blackmail info on them or something?
Another recourse is for the case to be decided by the 11 remaining jurors. But this is unusual, and requires the approval of the Judge and (I think) the lawyers from both sides.
Pretty much, yeah. He was the stereotypical “bad cop,” taking advantage of women he’d pull over for DUI, possession, whatever. “You could go to jail, but since I’m such a nice guy…” Other women he simply lied to (claiming to be a widow, or other pity-grabbing stories).
I did use bad wording though, since not all of the women were themselves married-- I should have written that he coerced them into flings.
FYI, Mr. Texting Juror that I mentioned in the OP finally got himself removed yesterday. We’re down to three alternates. Fortunately, this trial has some light at the end of the tunnel.
The very first time I was on a jury, about 15 years ago, one of the key pieces of evidence against the accused was (I kid you not) a photograph of a wet footprint outside the crime scene. The print matched exactly the shoe the accused was wearing when apprehended a block away a few minutes after the crime.
It also matched exactly the shoe our foreman was wearing that very day.
I was on a California jury several months ago and the judge allowed us to submit questions but he didn’t necessarily have to ask them. If we wanted to submit a question, we would write it on a piece of paper and hold it up. The bailiff would take it and give it to the judge.
We had a couple on one jury - the guy decided that the accused must have been forced to commit the assault and robbery, because girls don’t do that kind of thing.
The woman decided the victim must be wrong, because she was over 80 and they’re unreliable at that age.
The guy quickly changed his verdict, not wanting to go against the herd.
The woman was determined - “Ignoring the forensic evidence, and apart from the witness, what proof is there?”
“The accused’s confession to the first cop?”
“She retracted that - so there’s no proof apart from the old woman and they can’t be trusted!”
It took six hours for us to convince her to turn things around and ignore the fact that the victim was an old lady and just go with the forensics, witness and confession.
Did you read the recent General Questions threadabout a juror who knew Spanish giving his own interpretation of a witness’s testimony? Because based on what lawyers were saying in that thread, it sounds like a jerk could argue that you jurors based your decision on evidence not presented in court, i.e., your own shoe prints.
Personally, I think you did the right thing. But I’m not a lawyer.