One of the ways we participate in our justice system is through jury duty. For the first time in my life, I've been called to serve on December 3, and I couldn't be more excited. I realize this reaction may be unusual—most people dread the inconvenience it poses. Over the years, I've heard countless remarks about the hassle of jury duty, but rarely have I heard anyone talk about its importance.
What does it mean to be judged by a jury of my peers? Are peers people who are just like me, people with complementary experiences, or something else entirely? Can we really define peers as merely fellow voters or licensed drivers?
Interestingly, the back of the Official Jury Summons focuses entirely on how to avoid serving. It outlines ten justifiable reasons to excuse yourself, defer, or disqualify. There's even a blank space to state your own grounds for not attending. But where is the encouragement to participate? Where's the acknowledgment that serving on a jury is a cornerstone of our democracy, a civic responsibility that upholds the integrity of our justice system? Why isn't there any emphasis on the profound role jurors play in ensuring accountability under the law?
Instead, the front of the Summons sticks to logistics—location, date, parking, ADA accommodations, and safety information. Yet, this is supposed to be our “invitation” to democracy in action. Jury duty is an opportunity to set aside personal biases, collaborate with others, and deliberate based on evidence and the law. Jurors come together to decide beyond a reasonable doubt or by a preponderance of evidence. This collective process should involve independent thinkers who are unafraid to ask questions, consider alternate perspectives, and ultimately strive for a fair and just verdict.
The way we select jurors, at least in my state, is straightforward: if you're registered to vote or have a driver's license, you're eligible. From this pool of random individuals, we create what we call a jury of our peers. But is this truly the best approach to determine someone's fate? The U.S. is one of the few countries in the world to use a jury system, and while its merits can be debated, what should matter most is the fairness and accuracy of the outcome. If you were a defendant, I think you would agree.
A European friend once told me that our system was fundamentally flawed. She argued that pulling random people—qualified only by their ability to vote or drive—then expecting them to quickly understand potentially complex facts and laws with life-altering consequences at stake, was both unreasonable and unfair. “They're unqualified,” she said. “It's unfair to everyone involved.”
I couldn't dismiss her argument. But for me, the focus remains on the outcome: the verdict. How do we ensure it is fair and just, given the facts and the law? Isn't that the ultimate goal? Perhaps there's no perfect system, but understanding its flaws and striving for the fairest outcomes is a responsibility we all share.
I am juror #115 so I probably won't get picked, but if I do, I promise that I will lean into the opportunity.
