BusinessReport.com

Every Monday, Jury Coordinator Mona Gills-Collins issues summons for at least 300 jurors for the 19th Judicial District Court. On average, 20% do not show up.

“It’s not an invitation, it’s a summons,” says Judge William Morvant, adding “a lack of jurors pushes the judge and judicial division in a corner. But you don’t want to be too heavy-handed with it, so we send them the letter.”

Juror names come from registered voters and licensed drivers. Jurors are notified three weeks in advance to allow time to seek a postponement or make arrangements to serve, and their names are published in the local newspaper.

No-show jurors are sent a “show cause letter” in which they’re instructed to come to court and explain their absence. In Morvant’s experience, about 95% have a legitimate excuse, ranging from putting the wrong date on the calendar to caring for a sick child.

Employment is often cited because of economic issues. Morvant says it sometimes becomes more complicated; a Terrebonne Parish judge recently told him employers illegally fired one of his jurors after serving duty.

Morvant says he strives to work with people because so much is at stake.

“No one wants someone anxious or worried or hostile, not focusing on case facts. We have to balance that in choosing jurors,” he says. “At every trial, you go through at least 36 possible jurors to narrow down to a jury. In a criminal trial, it could last three to four weeks from work and family for a trial, and you have to weigh those outside pressures and concerns in whether they can serve.

“What we pay barely covers gas and lunch, but it’s part of the service. It’s not supposed to be a supplement to their full-time employment.”

Morvant has required stubborn jurors observe court to witness the judicial system. Those who simply refuse to show up receive a visit from sheriff’s deputies.

Judge Curtis Callaway also strives to work with jurors, but the most difficult ones have landed in jail.

“I tell them, ‘If you were a plaintiff would you want someone like you on your case?’” Callaway says. “I make them sit down and watch a trial. But if they say, ‘I want to go to jail,’ you know they’ve never been to jail. I have, in the past, had some people spend the night in jail in extreme cases.”

Callaway says he appreciates that Baton Rouge is fortunate to have conscientious citizens who respect and appreciate their civic responsibility. These jurors are acknowledged for “helping move the docket along.”

Nearly 400 jurors on average show up weekly to serve. Ben Ashcraft, former Marine and jury clerk who watches over them, says most jurors are happy, welcome seeing the system, go to court and never complain. Other jurors are disappointed if they’re denied that experience, and still others fuss from Day One.

Orientation typically begins with the usual questions: How long will I be here? Will I be here for the weekend? Who is my judge? What kind of trial is it? Ashcraft tries to keep them informed.

“It’s a hardship,” he says, “but it’s part of their patriotic duty to be in this country.”

Gills-Collins says many jurors still resort to some artful dodging despite being shown the importance of jury duty.

At each orientation, jurors learn that a felon can’t serve, and at least one hand always shoots up from someone gleefully announcing, “I’m a felon.” Their status is checked, and sometimes the charge had been reduced to a misdemeanor or dismissed, which means they can serve.

When a juror give the No. 1 excuse to avoid duty—“I’m sick”—she tells them to have a doctor fax her a note confirming they’re unable to serve. When they give the No. 2 excuse—“I have to work”—they might receive a postponement if it poses a hardship, but they’ll have to serve on the next summons.

Some jurors have even resorted to bringing a baby in order to be excused, but the result can be surprising.

“We badge the child, too, in case the child is separated from the parent,” says Gills-Collins, who then routes them to a judge for a decision on whether the juror can be excused for the lack of a babysitter or day care or if they still must serve. “We don’t turn anyone way with a child. Can you imagine the message I would send if I excused everyone with a baby?”

One juror, who fought Gills-Collins “tooth and nail” about serving but had no excuse and ended up on a murder trial. The juror thanked her for having had the opportunity to help give a voice to the victim—a child.

“There are always no-shows, which can be due to people who move, such as LSU students, died or were in accidents,” Gills-Collins says. “When they don’t show up, we have jury excuse week for the judges. I issue quite a number of warrants. Normally, it’s waiting on you until you get hit with speeding or run a red light, and the warrant could appear. You get punished and you still have to serve. You ought to just come and get it done with.”

Although Dawn Blackburn of Baton Rouge was recently called but not chosen for a jury, she says she was fascinated by the process.

“I would have sat in the front row at the trial,” Blackburn says. “I would have enjoyed being a jury. We live in a free society, and there are certain dues we pay for it.”

While not refusing to serve, Baton Rouge resident Ritha Milton says she was frustrated with confusion over being summoned under her earlier married name instead of her current one. Milton also questioned the system’s efficiency because she has been called to serve every two years while she knows of others who have never been called.

When Raymond Belmer was recently called to serve, he reached the point of being questioned by lawyers for a trial but also wasn’t chosen.

“I was blunt with them and totally honest,” says the Baton Rouge resident, who wanted to be a juror for the attempted murder case. “I just told them we had the best system, but it’s broken and it needs help. Sometimes the law just doesn’t quite do what it needs to do. The punishment doesn’t fit the crime.”

Belmer’s comments were partially based on his brother-in-law’s murder in 1977 by a man who had earlier killed two other people.

When recently called, Connie Hebert told Jury Management they could just arrest her if she couldn’t get a postponement because she wasn’t going to leave her dying mother. She was excused, and her mother died on the day she was to report to the courthouse.

In a thank-you note, she wrote: “The day I was ordered to report was the last day of my mother’s life. Your kindness gave me some of the last precious moments I will ever share with my mom on this earth.”

However, Hebert joined Milton in also posing the question: “Why do I keep getting called when others don’t get called at all? I’ve had other people say, ‘I’d love to serve, but they never call me.’” Gills-Collins says this is a common complaint, but she says that names are selected randomly by computer.

Despite life’s challenges in serving, Morvant says what jurors do is vital to the judicial system so he tries to impress upon them that “it’s like all of you sitting there and all wearing judge’s robes.”

“They must individually and collectively decide the case,” he says. “As you tell this, you can see the light bulbs going off about how important this is by the expressions on their faces. It is probably one of the single biggest rights we have. The right of the accused can be judged by a jury of his peers.”