A good day for justice....

After dodging the metaphoric bullet of jury duty for many years, I was finally hit.

In early December I was summoned to Coleman A. Young for January 27th with instructions to call the night before. I call and hear the dreaded words, "Groups numbered from 50-150 must report to Frank Murphy Hall of Justice...." and I don't recall the rest as I was jumping up and down in frustration. The difference is civil cases (Young) and criminal cases (Murphy) not to mention parking! (infinitely easier at Young-you can park underground at Ford Auditorium and then just cross Jefferson)

So after figuring out a happy medium of comfortable, yet appropriate clothes and googling how best to navigate my way, I set off for downtown. Yay construction. St. Antoine was all blocked off and they were sending me every-which-way around Greektown EXCEPT the way I had to go. I get to Murphy and check through security where I discover Bob, being the best husband on the planet, had packed me a surprise lunch. No cell phones, iPods, radios or any electronics of any kind are allowed so I brought a hard-copy of my nano to edit, assuming incorrectly that I would have time to do so.

They call me up in the first batch of jurors. They started with 60 of us to seat a jury of 14. They randomly seat 14 using jury cards and a bingo-ball cage. They dismiss 3 of them based on ESL, religious, and medical reasons. They seat 3 more and start 'group' questions. 2 more are dismissed and 2 more seated. They are questioned and when they get to seat 14, there was a conflict and they were also dismissed and I was seated in 14. I'm questioned and sat as last member.

In the information we were given before we were seated, we had been told that it was a sex-crime case and the alleged victim was a minor. What we learned after the other prospective jurors were dismissed and the trial began was the perpetrator was the victim's biological father. The girl was 12 when the charges were filed and the father was 41. There was an established pattern of abuse which began at age 6 and continued through the date the charges were filed. The victim's half-sister (same mother) had given testimony (to show pattern) her step-father had also raped her until she reached high school age and could defend herself. When the defense asked why the older girl didn't warn the younger one she responded that she hadn't imagined he was twisted enough to do that to his own flesh and blood.

We sat through extensive medical testimony, complete with diagrams and pictures. I will spare everyone the details but suffice it to say I don't watch Law & Order SVU because of it's graphic and depressing nature...everything I've seen the last few days is so much worse. He would reward her by bringing her bags of Doritos and Mountain Dew. He robbed his own flesh and blood of her innocence and he repaid her with snacks? I was physically ill on my way home from court yesterday as all the evidence and testimony replayed in my mind. How can anyone do such a
atrocious things?

Today the testimonies were complete and all evidence was summarized and closing statements were made after the defense rested without pleading their case, despite his plea of innocence. When we adjourned to deliberate, we took a vote and had one dissenter. The issue was the non-eloquent testimony of the girl. After much discussion, she understood what the rest of us did...she's a twelve (actually she just turned 13) year old girl and kids that age aren't renown for their powers of speech. This was not a scripted drama...the girl had to get on the stand and give a roomful of strangers graphic detail of the deplorable, immoral and illegal things her father did repeatedly to her. After further discussion, we reached a unanimous verdict: guilty.

There were five counts of first-degree criminal sexual assault between a child under thirteen by a person over seventeen. The ages are important because it determines the minimum sentence. After we had given our verdict and verified it in our own voices in court, the judge came into the jury room and explained what would happen next. In Michigan the charge for 1st degree sex assault with an under-13 by an over-17 carries a minimum sentence of 25 years to life. He was found guilty on all 5 counts. I am very proud that I was able to do this. I don't really ever want to sit in judgement over another like this again, but I am glad that I was able to see justice done.

I offer to you all this last thought...the next time you are called for jury duty, think about the true need for justice and how you can help. Instead of getting out of it and letting it be someone else's responsibility make it yours.

Coming soon to a theater near you: The Pothole That Ate My Car

It started out like any ordinary evening. The kids did their homework. We ate dinner. All was well with the world.

The boys had asked if we could go to Toys-R-Us as they had Christmas money that was burning holes in their pockets. J wanted to get the new Guitar Hero for his DS and S could not wait to get his little hands on the new Sonic Unleashed game.

Simple enough trip...we piled into the station wagon and attempted to make the three-mile trek. I finally understand Gilligan's Island and the bit about the three-hour tour. (still unclear why Ginger and the Howells packed trunks for a three-hour boat ride...it's a plot hole as big as my pothole!)

Here in the fine State of Michigan we don't have little potholes....no. This is Michigan where there are more registered cars than eligible drivers for them. With such a surfeit of autos, it's no great surprise we make killer chuckholes. Along Warren Avenue, each lane, including the center turn lane, has tire-popping holes in it.

We were halfway to the store last night when we hit one of these monstrous, car-eating traps. We pulled over and Bob showed the boys how to change a tire. Everything went fine and we moved on...until we hit another pothole and popped our spare.

We thankfully had reached the plaza and called my parents to come and get us. My husband, being the resourceful man that he is, has an extra set of tires he has stored at work. He ran out to Plymouth and picked up a tire and then the jack ripped apart like a tin can. Luckily, something had gone right and we had an extra jack we could use.

What should have been no more than a thirty-minute, three-mile trip turned into a three-hour adventure in the cold and snow!

Just be warned...watch out for those devastating potholes! They will eat your car and then some!