The legal lottery of being chosen for jury service

I PLAY the Irish Lotto and the EuroMillions every week. Over the years I have won small money – just enough to keep me interested in purchasing a quick pick before each draw. Their motto ‘if you’re not in, you can’t win’, gets me every time.

But if there was ever an occasion when I was glad my name was not drawn out of the hat, it was Tuesday of last week when myself and a court full of other obedient citizens turned up for jury duty.

When I originally received the jury summons a few weeks ago, I did look to be excused, but the county registrar wasn’t having any of it, so along I had to go or face the possibility of incurring a €500 fine for non-attendance.

Money is hard to get at the best of times, especially in the current economic climate, so I opted to take my chances and hope for the best. However, when Judge Mary Morrissey told the packed courtroom that the trial was expected to last two weeks, I began to wonder if I had made the right choice.

All those who had turned up had their names put in a box and then after the judge had instructed us about how to go about looking to be excused, the random selection process got underway. The registrar called out names in groups. These were then asked to individually take the oath or make a case to the judge as to why they should be excused.

For the first few minutes all was going well – half the jury had been selected – but then I got a little concerned. The person to my right was called and minutes later the person to my left.

Granted our jury numbers were not in sequence, but nevertheless, when you see people on either side of you getting the nod, I have to say I was getting worried.

Then a few people were successful in their pleas with the judge, while the defending barrister also objected to another.

As former Manchester United manager Alex Ferguson used to say when his team was entering the final 15 minutes and only barely ahead of the opposition, it was ‘squeaky bum time’ – would I or would I not find my name being called out?

I have covered enough court cases over the years to know there is nothing exciting about sitting in a courthouse day after day while a long line of witnesses tell similar stories.

My first encounter with the law in such a formal setting was back in 1979 when I worked for another newspaper in Clonmel. One week into the job and the editor sent me to cover the circuit court. The late Judge Diarmuid P Sheridan was presiding. Barristers with wigs and gowns huddled with their clients in every corner of the courthouse, while solicitors carrying armfuls of files tried their best not to scatter paper all over the place.

The judge was in a foul humour – someone had just slapped a parking fine on his car and he wasn’t too pleased. I pitied the poor individuals who were about to go before him, but I shouldn’t have worried. Many years later, when he sat for the final time at Carlow Circuit Court, I passed a letter to his tipstaff expressing my thanks to him for always recognising court reporters and recounting some of the remarks I had heard past defendants say when they left the courthouse.

One man, who had been charged with criminal damage when he set his own truck on fire in the hope of getting the insurance money, couldn’t speak highly enough of the judge and the way he was treated.

I’ll never forget what he said to me after his case was finally dealt with. Judge Sheridan had adjourned the matter on several occasions to allow the man time to make a contribution to a voluntary organisation – “the only friends I had in the court that day was my poor wife and the judge,” he said.

Don’t fool yourself: anyone who has had to sit through a trial will tell you the actual workings of a court are a far cry from what you believe them to be, or what the television portrays. The prosecution in last week’s case called out a lengthy list of witnesses and as they did so I was dreading the thoughts of sitting there day after day listening to the same questions being asked to witness after witness.

I know jury service and the presumption of innocence until a verdict is handed down are corner stones of our legal system and is something we should cherish, and I have no doubt that those who did not attend for possible selection – for whatever reason – will be hearing from the court registrar.

But here is an anomaly in the system. The names pulled out for possible jury selection are obtained from the electoral register – people who have gone to the trouble to put their names down on a list in order to vote for local and national elections. What about those who haven’t bothered to do that?