I arrived in a more timely fashion for my second day of jury duty – in fact, I was quite a bit early. What had really happened the day before was that when I looked at how long the bus ride took, I was looking at non rush hour times. I adjusted accordingly. I also brought a lunch this time.
Belt, cellphone, keys, reading glasses, sun glasses, ear buds. I felt a bit more put together as I gathered my stuff and took the elevator to the third floor.
At around 9am, maybe a little after, they brought us into the courtroom. The 18 people in the box returned to their seats. The rest of us sat pretty much where we had sat the day before which, for me was on the left side of the courtroom three or four rows from the back. I imagine there’s someone out there who knows me well enough to say, yep, that’s a Matt seat location.
The judge came in, we turned our phones off, court was in session. The clerk took attendance, one of the 18 was missing – so were one or two other people. They judge gave it a few more minutes – still a no show. They would have to be summoned again and start the process over. Before beginning, the judge thanked and dismissed the formerly homeless man. He had struggled to answer the questions coherently and at times seemed disoriented. They called up replacements for the two vacant seats. The judge reminded everyone of the questions he had been asking the day before and resumed where he left off.
Questioning from the attorneys began with the defense. Most of his questions were focused on ensuring everyone understood the presumption of innocence, ensuring that everyone understood that his client is not obligated to testify, and trying to ferret out who may be biased in favor of police testimony. Additionally, he wanted to get a sense of how people felt about crime in the city, as well as their feelings towards the homeless and mentally ill on our streets. He asked a lot of questions of the ER nurse who had frequent interactions with the police, as well as a woman whose mother was a public defender (he wanted to know if she had become jaded from the stories she heard).
The prosecution focused on similar themes but was trying to ferret out who may be biased against the police. Additionally, he wanted to make sure the jury understood that he does not need to present every piece of evidence or parade in a line of witnesses. Under the law, one credible witness can be enough to convict. He hammered home the notion that if he has to prove x, y, and z and does so, the jurors job is to convict. During the course of his questioning, one of the prospective jurors shared that he doesn’t trust the police. He said he thinks their brotherhood is strong enough that they’d lie on the witness stand. There was a lot of back and forth about whether or not he could set his bias aside, and he kept saying he would try, but ultimately said, probably not. He focused a lot of his questions on the people who had run ins with the police, and I felt bad that they had to share in such a public environment.
The judge and the attorneys left the room. When they came back the man who wouldn’t disclose where he went to high school and only said he “sells stuff” for a living was dismissed, as was the man who said he couldn’t be unbiased. The attorneys then took turns issuing their peremptory challenges. The state passed. The defense removed the nurse and one other person. The state passed again. The defense removed more people. The state passed a third time. The defense removed at least one more. After four or five rounds of challenges, they were done. There were 13 people left. The judge swore in twelve of them and dismissed us for lunch.
Outside, I sat on a shaded wall with other people from the room and ate: a peach, a banana, half of a peanut butter sandwich. Some of us talked about the process, but not about the case. At every recess the judge reminded us that we can’t discuss the case nor could we look anything up about the case. We were all surprised the woman whose mother was a public defender hadn’t been dismissed.
I left to go get coffee and bought a cookie while I was there. As I stood by a different wall but still in the shade, a heavyset homeless man approached. He said he’s not asking for money, but he could sure use some food. He wanted tacos from the truck across the street. I said sure and we walked over. He ordered six tacos – which caught me by surprise – I thought he might get three or four. The guy in the truck looked at me to make sure I was ok with it. I nodded and paid. The heavyset man sat in metal chair and said thank you. I gave him a fist bump and told him to take care of himself.
Belt, cellphone, keys, reading glasses, sun glasses, ear buds and I was back in the courtroom. They called more names to fill in the vacant seats. Every time they called a new set of names, my stomach sank a bit. I felt like the kid who hadn’t completed his homework and was going to be called on to give answers. I knew how intensely I was paying attention, and the thought of being in front of everyone under similar scrutiny made me nervous.
In one of the last rounds, one of the women I had talked with during lunch was called up. In the course of questioning she shared that she had been part of a lawsuit involving shady contractors. Her husband had been attacked and disabled. They lost almost everything in the course of the lawsuit. She did not have a good experience in court. You could hear her voice crack as the judge asked if being in the courtroom was triggering and whether or not she could be impartial. She said she thinks she could be impartial but also felt sick to her stomach. After a brief conversation with the attorneys, the judge apologized for her discomfort and and said nobody wants to re-traumatize people. She was thanked and dismissed. Also in the last rounds, another man shared that he felt the same way the other guy did – he didn’t trust the cops and he wasn’t sure if he could set aside his bias.
Throughout, I thought about that question a lot. Would I be overly skeptical of police testimony? Have I grown cynical and distrustful of people who are in positions of power? I participated in the BLM marches. I’ve read about how the cops in Philly and Baltimore would take people on “rough rides.” I remember the cases of Rodney King, Abner Louima, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and so many others. There have simply been far too many cases of police misconduct to completely set it aside. I thought about the dissonance that some Americans have as a result of our complex relationship with police officers. As children, we’re told to trust them implicitly – and then some of them (maybe it’s the few bad apples thing, maybe it’s systemic) violate that trust. Yet, in a court of law, we’re asked to set aside that childhood trust and set aside our understanding of how that trust has been violated. I think it’s asking a lot, especially at a time when our news is flooded with videos and images of ICE officers smashing car windows and police in riot gear knocking people down. At times the police seem eager to crack skulls. In high school I dated a girl whose grandfather was a Philly cop – I believe he was lieutenant. He used the N-word frequently and shared his disdain for some of the people he was supposed to protect and serve. He’d call them scumbags and would talk, with wistful pride, about use of force in the same way some parents lament that they can no longer beat their kids. I often wonder if the job itself (police or military) requires a rough attitude and temperament. It’s not an easy job, and I can understand how doing it long enough might make someone prone to dehumanizing the people they’re arresting.
And pardon the pun, but the role of policing in our society is not a black and white issue. To say it’s complicated is an understatement. As I listened, especially to the two men who didn’t trust the police, I wasn’t sure how I’d answer those questions or what I should or would disclose in my thinking. Yes, I’m skeptical. All one has to do is look up police scandal or corruption, and you’ll find dozens of instances of some of the most heinous abuses of power including torture, rape, murder, planting of evidence, etc. Very few big city police departments seem immune to these types of scandals. Yet, I also believe, at least on an individual level, most police officers try to do good work. I turned this conversation over and over in my head the way one might fidget with a coin in their pocket. The best I could come up with is that I’m allowed my skepticism, but would try to evaluate each witness on their own statements and merits.
The other question I thought about a lot was whether my sympathies towards the homeless, and people with mental illness, and people experiencing poverty would bias me against the prosecution. I didn’t know any of the details of the case, but I could sense that there would be questions about the mental state of the defendant at the time of the crime. On this subject, I felt more confident in my ability to be unbiased. Yes, I believe we need a more compassionate system. Yes, I prefer treatment to incarceration. Yes, I think we tend to over police poor neighborhoods, and it bugs the shit out of me that more affluent people seem to be treated differently in every aspect of the legal system. Yes, until we can arrest and prosecute more equally, I’d be inclined to arrest fewer poor people. But none of those things changed the reality in the moment – which was to evaluate the evidence in this particular case to see if the burden of proof was met.
By about 3:30 in the afternoon, they had their full jury with alternates. The alternates were sworn in and the rest of us were thanked and dismissed. It was nice out and once again I opted to walk the three miles home. I stopped at a bookstore where I bought two new books of poetry. I heated up some leftovers, checked emails, wrote, went for an evening walk, popped in at the bar. After two days of sitting in a stuffy courtroom, I returned to normal life.
I’ve since looked up the case (because I’m allowed to). The only statement I could find was from the San Francisco Police Department’s Twitter account. It appears that the defendant attacked (unprovoked) two police officers while they were sitting in their car. This happened in February of 2025. Court records seem to indicate that there was a trial in June, there was a verdict, and the defendant was placed on probation – so I assume he was found guilty. Then, later in June, there was a request to revoke probation. I’m assuming this trial is about how the terms of probation were violated and sending the defendant to jail/prison.
When I’ve told people that I had jury duty this week, the usual response was, “oh god” or “sorry, that sucks – did you get chosen?” The thing is, I don’t think it sucks. I’m not sure I wanted to be chosen, but seeing our system in action, I have renewed respect for and curiosity about the process. It became more than duty and responsibility – I had a genuine feeling of community, a feeling that says I’m a part of something bigger, I’m a part of this city and its kaleidoscope of citizens. Having served, I’m free for at least the next year. When and if I get called again, I’ll be a little better prepared on the logistics, probably equally as nervous, and just as honored to serve.