"Juror #36," the young Attorney with pimples in a blue suit asks, "you've been a victim of a crime?"
"I have," I answer ... sitting on the third row of the Courtroom gallery with 40 others desperate to not serve as a member of the Jury.
It's a criminal case expected to last a couple of days ... starting the day before Thanksgiving!
I have lots of friends who are Lawyers but I swear if you put a black robe on one and sit her or him higher than anybody else ... they suddenly think they're God! ... and schedule trials any damn time they want.
"Can you tell us about it?" Pimples in a tie presses.
"Sure," I reply. "Which one?"
Peering over his horn rimmed glasses he asks, "You've been the victim of more than one crime?"
"About 30 or so," I give him the honest truth.
Pimples seems taken aback.
"What were those crimes?" he asks after studying his notes.
"Well, pretty much everything," I confess. "Breaking and entering ... theft ... larceny ... assault ... battery ... I'm sure I'm forgetting some."
The other would-be Jurors sitting on the bench beside me lean forward and take a look at me.
I smile and shrug my shoulders.
"Were the nature of these crimes associated with your business or were they personal?" Pimples inquires.
"Yes," I respond ... and I swear one his Pimples pops without provocation.
He looks across the room at his co-Counselor who shrugs his shoulders.
"Would these crimes prevent you from rendering a fair and unbiased hearing of this case?" he asks as though throwing out a trump card.
"Well," I say sitting straighter in my seat, "I'd bring my wealth of experience with me but ... it helps me be a better Judge of people."
I think this offends the Judge.
Pimples moves on to question Juror #41.
Everyone on my row continues to staring until, finally, the woman sitting next to me asks, "What do you do?"
How does one answer when I've done a lot?
"Well, I used to run Union Mission ..." I start but she immediately cuts me off.
"You're Micheal Elliott," she says. "I used to work at SCAD and met you every Christmas when we brought toys for the kids.
"Y'all were great," I tell her.
Pimples and the other attorneys go through the "Striking Process" and I think I came in #1.
So I got thrown off the Jury ... sprinted out of the Court House ... calling my baby on Speed dial ... 'cause I got $10 burning a hole in my pocket ... and we're going to have some fun tonight!!
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