Untainted

But hey who's on trial?
-- Interpol, "Evil"

After the laughter had subsided, the prosecutor looked down at his notes.

"Mr. Kl-"

"That's me!" I find it easier just to cut the person off rather than sit there while he uncomfortably works out my name.

"Oh! I missed you!" he said, breaking eye contact with Juror #26. I get confused with being a man pretty often. I was named for a boy; my parents were expecting a boy. I was able to disappoint pretty early on in life.

"And how do you feel about guns?"

"I believe in gun ownership, as long as the weapon is obtained legally."

"Do you or anyone in your family own a gun?"

"I do not. My step-father owns a whole closet-full. I grew up around them."

"Do you still live with your parents?"

"No." I humph a little, vexed. I was the only person out of 60 asked that question, including the Georgia Tech graduate who looked about 14 years old. I was the only single twenty-something female in the room. Of course we single gals live with our parents; it's what we do when our future husbands haven't bartered for our dowries yet. I told my father not to go over 60 sheep personally.

"So why have you personally chosen to not own a gun?"

"Because I live in Midtown," I looked pointedly at the very cute juror in the front row, "alone." It actually came out a whole lot creepier than I intended, probably explaining why he hasn't called yet. Only I can turn jury duty into a meat market. "Honestly, I'm nervous about owning a gun and having it used against me."

The prosecutor seemed to accept my answer. "And what would happen if you were at your place in Midtown and someone threatened your life with a deadly weapon. Would you shoot him?"

"Absolutely." I'm a little uneasy having said that under oath. I sort of feel I have to deliver now.

"And what would you do after shooting someone in self-defense?"

"Call the police." Yes, they asked everyone that question. I think it's safe to say the entire jury would sign a statement saying we would all call the police after shooting somebody. Obviously we gathered that the defendant, in fact, did not.

"You stated earlier you don't watch lawyer shows on TV?"

"No, I don't." This time the prosecutor did not believe my response, challenging my honesty with his stare. I looked at my hands and mumbled, "I prefer the medical ones." The jury giggled.

The prosecutor smiled, "Nothing wrong with that. No more questions, Judge."

The defense stands up. "You stated earlier your step-father owns a gun?"

"No, I said he owns a closet-full of guns." The jury laughs again.

"Is he in any gun clubs?"

"The NRA. He also teaches hunter safety."

"Earlier you stated that you know someone who has made mistakes in the past and has turn their life around. Who was it?"

"Er, I was referring to my brothers and me."

"Explain, please."

"Well, we all ended up in court while growing up." I tried my hardest to see if I could get away without saying what the actual charges were. If I had to list my brothers' and my collaborative charges -- minor in possession of alcohol, three incidents of public drunkenness, open container, and a DUI -- we'd all look like crazed alcoholics. Good news is by the time I ended up in the pokey, my parents were used to the drill. "We learned from our mistakes and grew up into productive citizens."

"Was this juvy?"

"Erm, no." The jury had a good laugh. At least I got away with not saying the charges.

When asked if I or anyone I knew had been a victim of a crime, I replied in the negative. I grew up in an upper-middle class neighborhood with senators and D-list celebrities. My string quartet used to play at Newt Gringrich's Christmas parties. There was no crime.

However when other people had to answer:

"Yes, my grandfather was murdered."

"Yes, my grandfather was carjacked and then murdered. Twenty years later my mother was murdered."

"Yes, my brother murdered his wife."

"Yes, I was held up at gun point."

"Yes, I was shot. In the face." (She was a CNN camera operator and it happened in the Gulf War.)

Also, it should be known that I am a statistical marvel because I live in the city and have not had my car stolen.

"We had our car stolen. Twice. The second time at the courthouse when we were testifying for the first theft. It was taken right from the police lot."

"We had a burglar and I shot him in the leg."

Oh holy crap. After hearing all that testimony, I do believe it's time to learn to shoot.

The defense looked at me, "Do you feel like you could be a fair and balanced juror?"

"Yes, I do." And I knew I was selected.

I had the untainted mind.