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Changing Hawaii
ONE of my longtime dreams came true this weekend, but my grandiose expectations were shattered like Al Gore's waning hopes for the presidency. Finally, this never-been-picked member of a jury pool actually got to serve on a jury -- even if it was only a training exercise for the University of Hawaii law school. Serving on jury
wasn’t as fun
as expectedGo ahead, gimme a medal. I sacrificed a sunny Saturday morning to help third-year law students in Professor James Koshiba's "Trial Practice" class demonstrate their courtroom demeanor, persuasive talents and legal knowledge before Circuit Judge Marie Milks, who also volunteered her time.
What I thought would be a hoot was, instead, sobering. I have renewed respect not only for those who serve as jurors, but for attorneys, judges, judiciary personnel and the justice system.
After getting sworn in by the court clerk, we entered the jury box and admired our perch, which had the best view in the courtroom.
As we settled into our cushy swivel seats, we eyeballed the actor playing the defendant, the three law students representing him at the defense table, the three students serving as prosecutors, and the faux witnesses in the gallery.
First came voir dire, when we were asked questions to determine whether we'd be good candidates to serve in this particular case.
Opening statements by the prosecution followed, with Aimee Davis, Adrian Khakhwa and Wing Ng vowing to prove the dastardly defendant had kidnapped his ex-girlfriend and had held her captive during a rush-hour drive along Nimitz Highway.
Defense attorneys Lisette Blumhardt, Crystal Asano and Jim Delacy countered in true Rashomon-style that this was a terrible misunderstanding -- the defendant had only tried to keep his ex from jumping out of the car in busy traffic for her own safety.
We listened to the witnesses. We concentrated hard to keep track of their stories. And we struggled to remember all the pertinent facts and conflicting arguments as lawyers interrogated and objected, Judge Milks made rulings and our stomachs grumbled in anticipation of lunch.
Soon those comfortable chairs weren't so comfortable anymore. How about a snack break, your honor?
FINALLY, after an interminable three hours (short in comparison to most honest-to-goodness trials), we retired to a back room. Our mission: to deliberate the fate of a young man who was either 1) a jealous, hot-headed bully who had kidnapped his acquaintance or 2) a misunderstood innocent whose former babe was trying to punish him for breaking up with her.
Decisions like this aren't easy. There were contradictory tales to ponder. The defendant was made to look like a victim, while the victim was demonized. And the prosecution had the heavy burden of proving absolute guilt or the defendant was innocent of the charges, no matter how bad an egg he was.
But the hardest part of the whole jury process was that, by then, we were tired. Culling through all the data thrust upon us, coupled with the added pressure of knowing a person's freedom and reputation were on the line, made for an overwhelmingly stressful situation.
In the end, the ultimate verdict wasn't as important as the lesson learned. Serving on a jury was neither fun nor was it funny. Even in a mock trial, it was hard work. For real.
Diane Yukihiro Chang's column runs Monday and Friday.
She can be reached by phone at 525-8607, via e-mail at
dchang@starbulletin.com, or by fax at 523-7863.