I get notices for jury duty fairly often living here in L.A., about once every two years. I wouldn’t mind that much going to the courthouse if it were just for a day, but running Trannies In Trouble takes up so much time that it really is a big inconvenience serving on a jury. The only time I’ve ever been chosen, as an alternate juror, was sometime in the early 2000s on a criminal trial that lasted three or four days.

Just last month I had to go downtown to the big courthouse where a bunch of high-profile cases have been tried, including the OJ trial and the Phil Spector murder trial. It’s a dull ugly building, and when I arrived, I was probably one of 200 or 300 people waiting in the huge seating area on the first floor. I really didn’t want to serve more than one day so I dressed in my casual Sandra mode, wearing girls’ jeans and tennies and a black androgynous satin top with sequined buttons. I wore light makeup and a wig and some jewelry, going for that androgynous musician look that I usually wear when I check into hotels. I wanted to stand out and look unusual but not completely bizarre. I skipped wearing a skirt and high heels since I wanted to feel comfortable, especially if I were going to have to spend the whole day there. No one spoke to me the entire morning except for the lady I briefly talked to when checking in. I had plenty of reading material and enjoyed some people watching. At one point there was a squeaky outside door that badly needed to be oiled. After the third or fourth time that someone went through it and it let out this absurdly loud metallic wailing sound, I glanced over at a woman who was looking in that direction and we both laughed under our breath.

Going to the courthouse is kind of interesting since I’ve had some paralegal training in the past. I’m not an actual California paralegal since the state has pretty strict requirements, but I know just enough about the law to sound like I know what I’m talking about while not really knowing much at all. But the atmosphere of the courthouse is interesting, all the different people and the sense of potential drama amid endless tedium, delay and waiting.

Prosecutors, of course, want people on the jury whom they feel they can persuade. But any prosecutor who would allow me to sit on a jury would not be doing a good job. My desire to stand out and look unusual was part of my strategy not to be picked. I did make it into one of the courtrooms for a domestic violence case and I was reassured listening to the prosecutor question prospective jurors, asking them detailed questions about their attitudes and opinions. It was immediately apparent that if I were questioned and simply answered honestly (I would be under oath anyway, which I take seriously), he would almost certainly send me home. I was prepared to say that I run a fetish porn website for a living (true), and that alone would probably mark me as a wild card who might make unpredictable decisions. I’m certainly not an anarchist, but I am very skeptical of the fairness of the legal system and am especially repelled by the shockingly high incarceration rates in the United States, something that I have no stomach to contribute to. As I’ve said before on this blog, we Americans have this crazy impulse to lock people up. Many developed countries use fines and probation as a deterrent but here in America it’s so often go straight to jail. And with so many prisons now privately-run businesses, there’s money to be made in putting people behind bars. What’s more American than making money?

So as I sat there in the courtroom, I realized, “Hey wait, I think they just seated the last juror. Did they? did they?” And then as I watched from the sidelines, the jurors and the alternates were being sworn in, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet! I had such a rush of relief! “OMG, I think they’re going to send the rest of us home!” Sure enough, twenty minutes later I was walking back to the parking garage, I didn’t even have to speak to a single lawyer about my numerous legal opinions. I was off the hook again, probably for another 24 months or more, and I could still get some work done that afternoon. At least now I know exactly what my courtroom outfit will be for next time!