The Joys Of Jury Service

Last Tuesday, I completed my annual visit to Downtown Los Angeles and the county courthouse to serve my jury duty.
In Los Angeles county, the policy is one day and or one trial. In other words, one is on call for a week. If you call everyday and are not asked to go to the assigned court in your summons, you are done.
However, I did not dodge that bullet.
And I should make the admission that I am one of the few people that actually likes jury duty. I see it as a huge contribution to the American idea of citizenship. What amazes me is how much so many people will do and or say anything to get out of jury duty.
On Monday, August 18, I had to make my trek on the Gold Line light rail system. It is one of the few conveniences of local public mas transit. Its a short walk or bike ride from Union Station to the courthouse.
I arrived at the appointed time, went through the metal detector putting my backpack through and all my other stuff in a large plastic bowl. After going through that, I went to the 11th floor assembly room and went through the orientation that I have head and seen so many times that I could give it. After that, it was time to wait to see if I would be called as park of a larger panel to a courtroom. And before lunch, a nice short hour and a half, I was part of a group of 30 called to a courtroom.
After lunch we were told by the judge that the case we would hear would be about a residential first degree burglary and it would be a short trial. As it turned out, a short trial of six days. It took two full days to pick and seat a jury. Twelve jurors and two alternates, a standard for a criminal case.
So we were treated to the opening statements of the prosecutor and the defense attorneys. And to be clear, I thought that the openings left a lot to be desired.
The short version of the trial is that a 20-year old guy went to Hollywood with his brother to "pick up chicks" as was described in not so many words by both sides. The one brother supposedly hooked-up with a gal and went back to her apartment. That left the defendant all by his lonesome. After about five minutes, he did not think that his brother would come back for him and he began to wander. Wander all the way up the Hollywood Hills to a nice, large home that had a For Lease sign. After finding a way to break into the home, which was a sizable dumbbell, the defendant opened the door and went inside. He went to the kitchen and pulled out a lot of food and drink. But the one thing he did not count on was that the homeowner would be home. She was and called the police, who responded quickly. Quickly enough to prevent the defendant from doing anything more. He tried to escape but ended up leaning in a hiding position next to a tree.
But the defense had an amusing version of events. They did not argue that the defendant did not break into the home. But the reason they used is that the defendant was tired, hungry and was looking for a place to sleep. And that the Metro train subway stopped running after midnight, when the event occurred. And he had no way to get home because he did not have a cell phone. But he did have $9.60c in his pocket.
A note here for pick-up artists, aka PUAs.
If you expect to pick up chicks, you kind of really need more than $9.60c in your pocket. Really.
Mind you this is Hollywood. There are many fast food establishments. There are gas stations. There are even such archaic things as pay telephones. He could have called his parents that he lives with. He could have even done that as a collect call. He could have grabbed a bite at a fast food establishment or even a gas station. In other words, there were many other ways to get home to sleep that the defense was trying to convince us jurors of.
So in the trial we heard from three uniform police officers, a detective and the defendant himself. No one was especially memorable except the defendant. For he was unbelievably bad. He did himself no favor whatsoever. In fact, it was his testimony that cemented what I believed to be the outcome. Much of his testimony was contradictory and of him trying to sound smarter than he was.
After the testimony, we heard the closing statements. Twice from the prosecutor and once from the defense. And each time the prosecutor made her argument stronger. The defense attorney, a very able public defender, just stuck to the story.
We received the jury instructions and then proceeded to the jury deliberation room.
At some point, I had mentioned that on my last trial, I was the jury foreman. And someone remembered and they all asked if I would want to be foreman for this trial and I agreed.
The first thing that we did was take a vote. And it seemed ominous to me. Seven of us said guilty. Five said not guilty. So there were going to be deliberations. And there should have been. And FTR, we were a helluva lot more serious than the O. J. Simpson jury that took a whole four hours of deliberation. In fact it did take us about seven hours of deliberation. And between a couple of us, including my self, four of the original jurors that voted not guilty changed to guilty. But there was one woman, one woman that held the defendant's fate. And he should be damn thankful to her. The problem for that juror is one of the two elements the prosecutor had to prove beyond a reasonable doubt. And the one that the woman juror was having problems with was intent. Because there was nothing stolen from the home, it made her not sure he intended to take any items from the said home. However, if he had even taken a bite of food and or a swig of wine, that would be enough to prove intent. But this juror just could not come around. Even after two different read backs and her  conceding some points that we agreed to, she still could not come around. There was nothing more we could talk about. We took one more vote and it was 10-2 for a guilty verdict. But in a criminal case, the jury must be unanimous for conviction. And we were not. And we would not be.
So I called the bailiff and we eventually went back to the courtroom and were questioned by the judge. After a couple of private consults with the attorneys, the judge declared a mistrial.
I have to admit, I was disappointed and just a wee bit bitter. I thoroughly believe that had the police not acted quickly, the defendant would have ate the food, have some drink and would have taken whatever he could fit in his pocket. But we all had to agree. And we could not.
A couple of things that made me realize it was not a total waste of time.
First, the defendant had been in jail since he was arrested in late March. How do we know? A couple of jurors made mention that while he was wearing a nice dress shirt, he had jail-issued pants and jail slippers. So he either was not given bail or the amount was more than his parents wanted to pay. Or they wanted to teach him a lesson.
Second, even though he probably will not be recharged and may already be out on the streets, he spent time in jail. More than likely, had we found him guilty, he probably would have been credited for time served. Because of state prison overcrowding, many cases like this a convicted burglar serves time in a county jail. And Los Angeles County jail is like a state prison with constant overcrowding.
My initial reaction of dismay and bitterness was wrong. It was wrong because the system did work.
The defendant had a speedy and fair trial. A jury of his peers, us, looked at all of the evidence seriously and studiously. We talked, talked and talked. And because, rightfully, in a criminal case the bar is that all jurors must agree to convict or not convict. If a juror can not agree as was the case in this trial, we had no choice. The judge realized we were serious and deliberative and declared a mistrial.
Throughout this post, I have referred to it as jury duty. Yet I realize that it is in fact jury service. We should not look at it as a duty but that we are serving our fellow citizens. Yes, it is about a week of our time that we could be working or doing whatever, but do we really want to not be a part of the process? Do we really want to not participate in a compact of what it means to be a citizen of the United States? I do not and if one really thinks about it, they would not want to give up that right. They would not want to have a bunch of so-called professional jurors that have been proposed many times in American history.
It is a joy of citizenship to be asked to participate in jury service, even when it does not turn out the way one thinks that it should.
Oh, but once, just once, I would like to be assigned to my local courthouse about four blocks from home!

Affluenza Another Sign Of Decay In The United States

Yes you read it right.
Affluenza.
What is affluenza?
According to this on Wikipedia, it is the confluence of affluence and influenza in this sense.  That because of rampant consumerism, people get into debt, overloaded with stuff, want more and waste beyond belief.                                
Critics of so-called consumerism use this term to describe certain people.
And yes, they are correct. Some people have an insatiable appetite for want that is disgusting. And it shows. I can actually think of some so-called celebs that come to mind. The whole, sordid Khardashian clan for one.  If that is not enough for you, it is any celebutard that shows off their excess and then rails about real and or imagined iniquities in the world around them.
But what happens when affluenza gets into the real world?
When someone goes off the rails and people's lives are at stake?
Then let's meet Ethan Couch.
Master Couch is the offspring of Fred and Tonya Couch. Mr. Couch is the owner of Cleburne Metal Works, a company that has made $15,000,000 at least within the past year.
They live large.
Mr. Couch has had some run-ins with the law. So has the former Mrs. Couch. And yes, yes, young Master Couch has too.
NONE of these people have any restraint it appears.
But what happened on June 15, 2013, it went beyond a run in with the law.
It cost four people their lives. 
On that date, young Master Couch was driving his pickup truck with two of his friends in the back bed of the truck.
Oh, did I mention that he was drunk? And that it was not the first time? And that he is only 16 years old?
In February of this year, Master Couch was cited for being a minor in possession and consumption of alcohol.  And he got a nice slap on the wrist with probation, compulsory alcohol awareness classes and 12 hours of community service.
So we already know he has been down the Devil's Urine road before.
And four months later, not only is Master Couch drunk but his blood alcohol level is .24 and that is twice the legal limit of .08 for an adult.
Remember, this is a 16 year old.
Ahh, but he is from a definitely upper middle-class family. Maybe even wealthy family.
And of course they hire an awesome lawyer. And that awesome lawyer finds this equally psychologist, Dr. G. Dick Miller, a perfect name for this educated fool, and he cites affluenza as a defense for young Master Couch.
The only thing that Dr. Dick Miller is right about is that the parents gave Master Couch freedom beyond belief. For they felt no restraint themselves. But after that, it is a bunch of psychobabble. Saying that because of this he had no clue as to what is right and what is wrong. Dr. Dick Miller cited an example that Master Couch was found by police in his pickup truck with a passed out, naked 14 year-old girl. Police cited Master Couch and the parents did not punish him.
Oh, that's two encounters with law enforcement up to the point of the fatal accident.
So the carnage of Master Couch in one evening.
Four dead, nine people injured and one of his "friends" from the pickup truck paralyzed to the point that he can't even speak.
So, what does Judge Jean Boyd sentence Master Couch to?
Ten years probation, no contact with the parents and he gets to be in a "rehab" facility in Newport Beach, California at the cost of $450,000 a year.
NOT ONE DAY OF JAIL TIME!
Zero, zilch, zip.
No jail time for taking four lives, all but taking a fifth life, and injuring nine other people.
Because of "affluenza".
Where to begin.
This is malarkey, pure, plain and simple.
A ticket from the police for being passed out in a car with a naked girl did nothing to straighten him out.
A no-contest plea when cited four months before the accident did nothing to scare him straight.
He kills four people and a psychologist, a so-called expert, cites a BS defense and the judge, a juvenile court judge does not assign one day in jail for this.
Master Couch will not get straightened out because he essentially got away with murder.
I do not care that he is 16 years old. I do not share Judge Boyd's comments in sentencing that he will not get treatment in jail. In reality he would get some counseling in jail. But it would not be in Newport Beach. It is another way of not assigning Master Couch responsibility for what he did. He stole the beer that got him drunk in the first place. From that moment on he violated terms of probation from his conviction of alcohol possession and consumption. That is automatic jail time right there. But no, no according to Dr. Dick Miller and the judge, he needs treatment to cure him of affluenza. And jail is not a place for it.
Well, yes it is.
Master Couch will not learn in a "rehab" center what it is like to be confined. To be with others that have committed bad crimes themselves. To see how bad his short life has become. He needs to be really scared straight.
I do not disagree with counseling and eventually being in a "rehab" center. But he needs to spend some time in jail. He could have been sentenced to serve time until at least his 21st birthday and then the probation and rehab.
All the sentence has done is say that once again, mommy and daddy will bail him out. Yeah, daddy is going to pay the $450,000 a year tab at Club Rehab.
Master Couch needed to have the fear of God put in him. That killing people no matter what is wrong. That while he does not need the death penalty, he needs to know that there are real consequences to his actions.
And that money does not and should not be a keep out of jail free card.
What this whole case shows is another sign of decay in morals in the United States. That a 16 year old can get away with killing people. Because of affluenza, you know.