Dear Your Honor 

(and in regards to the many others this concerns, including but not limited to, the prosecution, defense, defendant, complainant, and their families, fellow jurors and the court reporter),

I heard the dreaded "uh-oh" when my husband Jason fixed his eyes on a certain piece of mail yesterday.  I knew immediately what he held in his hand. Nope. It wasn't a bill. He'd already started a small stack of those on the kitchen counter. I received a jury summons. 

Now before you roll your eyes and stop reading because you think you've heard every "I can't be on the jury" excuse in the book, let me assure you you've never heard one quite like mine. 

First, I have a founded fear when it comes to serving on a jury (as opposed to an unfounded one like those who've yet to experience jury duty). I have a fear of crowds (I'm a self-diagnosed agoraphobe). This condition is worsened with the request to respond to the simplest of questions like "What is your name?" or "Do you personally know anyone with the prosecution or defense?"  

There are physical manifestations. My heart pounds invisibly outside my chest and I sweat profusely and visibly from my left armpit (This alone should exclude me as a juror). 

Truth and justice are better sought, for me, from my comfy brown chair at home on the weekends watching crime dramas and documentaries. I make a great armchair detective, lawyer and juror. I'll be glad to review any cases you have. I'll respond with my decision by email. 

In the courtroom (and in that little room where jurors congregate during trials) my anxiety prevents me from sharing what I believe to be "the smoking gun" or the piece of evidence that needed to wrap up the case. I will listen to the best of my ability and will hold on to the truth that I firmly believe, but my social anxiety causes a tongue-thickening speech disorder which makes my participation in discussion difficult. 

 An additional problem comes when I'M UNSURE of the defendant's guilt or innocence, in which case I'll be the hated one in the room causing a deadlock. I know you must hate it when that happens. I might be the only one in the room that thinks the defendant is innocent, but because of my inability to speak in groups, I won't be able to explain why my vote differs. That would be frustrating for everybody involved. 
After having made myself sound better than intended in my earlier boasts concerning my listening skills and vigilant quest for justice,  I must tell you that in the midst of my listening and internally deciding "he's guilty", my thoughts may instantly turn to what I need from the grocery store or I may become fixated on juror six, the loud breather. I may miss some vital stuff. I'm not going to let on, that I'm clueless as to what transpired in the last fifteen minutes. I'm excellent at pretending I know what's going on. I know that's not what you want. 

If this isn't enough to convince you I'm not juror material I'm able to provide you with two judge's names who will probably testify to my being a bad choice. But to save your time and theirs, let me share my experience in past courtrooms.  My first opportunity to serve as a juror was fourteen years ago, but I distinctly remember parts like it was yesterday. 

I was sat as juror number one. It must have been a popular number because I was asked a lot of questions by counsel from both sides. While one question was being asked, I became so nervous that my head started to swim. The lawyer's words could be described as sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher "wah wah wah....wah wah wah wah wah wah". I asked him to repeat the question.....twice. I still could not comprehend his words  and responded "I don't understand". I'm still clueless as to why I was not only allowed to stay in the room, but was asked more questions. 

I do remember one thing that was asked by the defense. "Would my client's prior drunk driving conviction make you think he is more likely to be guilty this time?" I answered yes. The next thing I knew both lawyers approached the judge's bench and had a discussion. I was then asked to join them at the front of the courtroom. You cannot understand the duress I was under at this stage.

I walked toward the front to a spot where a wooden railing of sorts separated me from the judge and lawyers. I was asked to come through the partition, having to push a small wooden, waist-high door to walk through. The hinges must have been mighty "springy" because when I walked through, the door bounced back so hard that it thrust past its return spot and knocked over a chart and easel that would later be used for evidence posters. Against their better judgement they STILL allowed  me to stay. I was asked to clarify my answer of presuming his client's probable guilt. Who knows what I said. But if you can believe it, I was chosen as juror number one. 

Five years later I cringed when I received another jury summons. (I think I might have received one or two in-between at which times I thankfully had babies who needed my care).

 This second jury "opportunity" was far less traumatizing but I continued to serve as a distraction to the court. After being chosen as a juror once again, I sat in my chair determined I would dutifully listen. At some point during the trial I got one of those tickles in my throat that demanded attention. I ignored the tickle, but a cough escaped, followed by an emerging fit of coughs. A neighbor juror handed me a cough drop, but a full-blown choking episode was now in session. It was the kind where excess fluid pours from your eyes and nose and your face turns beet red. Court was paused as people stared and a water bottle was brought in. Your honor, this had to have messed with the prosecution's questioning flow. 

I must also add that in both cases the defendant plead guilty before we jurors had to make a decision concerning their guilt or innocence. My record shows that I am both distracting and un-useful.

Please consider permanently removing me from the jury pool. At the very least allow me to spend Monday, January 25  with the school children I work with and the children who are my own, instilling in them values that will hopefully keep them out of your courtroom (at least as a future defendant). Hopefully they'll end up being better jury material than I am. 

Thank you for your time,

Kristi Burden
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