Partly Cloudy, With a Chance of Jury Duty

We've had very little winter in the panhandle of Idaho.
Granted, most of the really cold weather and heavy snow storms often skip over this region and dump their misery on the denizens of northern Montana and Wyoming before moving on to the Great Plains, but this year has been one of the mildest on record.  Longtime locals are out in shorts and T-shirts while newcomers like my wife and me are merely thankful we can put off buying snow tires for one more year.

And then it happened...  In the mailbox a summons for jury duty baring my name and address.  What??!!
I've only been here four months and I'm up for jury duty?!  How is this possible?  I could understand being called on what seemed like an annual basis when we resided on planet California, there being so few actual legal citizens and all, but now Idaho yanks my chain too?  There must be some mistake.
I call the number on the summons.  No mistake,  I report Monday.

For years people who worked in the media got a pass from jury duty.  The whole concept of having a "voice in the public square" meant that those of us in the newspaper, radio or TV business could have undue influence on a case and result in an avoidable miscarriage of justice.  It seemed like the right move to me.  Then, either because of a scarcity of bodies in the pool of potential jurists or some ruling by the government, suddenly EVERYBODY went into the hopper for jury duty.

I didn't mind showing up the first couple of times in California but after that……ENOUGH!  I actually wound up on two juries:  a major cocaine bust and a murder trial.  They were interesting and sort of fun at the time though I was somewhat put off by the fact that both defense attorneys told me after the fact that they had picked me on purpose because they hoped I would blab about the trial on my radio program and get their clients a mistrial.  I didn't and was happy to send the drug dealing dirtbags and the murdering SOB to stony lonesome for a very special extended stay.

Perhaps my steadfastness and no nonsense trial service has preceded me to my new home state?  Maybe I'm already well known in the legal circles of the Idaho panhandle as the "hangin' jurist".  Or, more likely, some clerk yanked my name out of a hat at the voter registration office.  That's what I get for exercising my franchise.

So, next week is jury week.  Now that I'm retired it wouldn't hurt my feelings to land a spot on a big case.  You know,  one of those cases where an old lady is in the dock for boosting a 98 cent bottle of Joy dish washing detergent or maybe a civil case involving a stud horse shooting blanks.  Exciting stuff.

I'll have to check on what the state allows with regard to maximum penalties and hope that a jury can at  least recommend hanging or the electric chair.  I don't believe in messing around.  Firm but fair is my motto.  The "hangin' jurist" is always ready to drop the hammer on society's misfits.

 Having just checked, I now know that Idaho employs lethal injection as its method of extermination.  I've always enjoyed mixing a mean cocktail.  Let's get this party started!  Now where's that old bag who grabbed the 98 cent bottle of Joy?