Jury Duty: Part Two

Continued from Jury Duty: Part One

On days two through five, we heard testimony.  And lots of it.  The physicians testifying on behalf of the plaintiff were his treating physicians -- the physicians he sees on a regular basis and who know his needs.  They testified to his past experiences and his future needs.  The overwhelming consensus was that the plaintiff was lucky to be alive.  He would have ongoing medical needs and would experience chronic pain for much of his life.  His quality of life and ability to work were greatly diminished.

The physicians testifying for the defense were expert witnesses, professionals being paid for their opinions.  It was difficult to separate the amount of monies these physicians were being paid to review records, do a brief physical examination of the plaintiff (if at all), and show up to court to testify.  Because of my work at UNMC, I know that independent medical review is a common practice, but this felt different.  It wasn't really independent.  These physicians were being paid thousands of dollars to appear in court, and something about that felt dirty and made me question how they could be impartial.  On one hand, it seemed their fees should have been irrelevant.  It wasn't though -- it was part of the evidence and part of the trial precedings.  In the end, we had to separate our opinions about the payment made to expert witnesses from their actual opinions. 

We heard from additional folks during these days -- a private investigator, vocational rehabilitation specialists, an economist, a cognitive psychologist, and life care planners.  I focused on every word, every document.  And I went home exhausted, confused, and overwhelmed.  Since we were not allowed to discuss the case with each other or our family, all of this information just bottled up in my brain, tossed around, and was just looking for an escape.  I felt like a ticking time bomb -- I wanted and needed to debrief, discuss, and argue the points of this case, and I could not.  Not yet.

On day six, both sides in the case presented their closing arguments and presented the case to the jury for deliberation. It was not until that morning that we were finally given some guidance about the amount of money the plaintiff was asking for.  The numbers were staggering.  Knowing that the decision we were about to make was so huge, my anxiety grew.  Finally, the judge gave us instructions for deliberating and sent us to the jury room.

Once settled in, we decided on a foreman before going to lunch.  I had concerns at first about his ability to lead a group of opinionated citizens (mostly women), but he proved to be an excellent choice.  He was thoughtful, considerate, and efficient.  He moved our deliberations along nicely, always checking for unanimity at each step, and recognizing the places where we needed to really hash things out.

The jury was a good mix of citizens -- a nurse, a teacher, an IT professional, a retiree, and a laborer.  We had more women than men, and we were all white.  In some ways, we were very much the plaintiffs' peers, and in some ways we could not be.  We had to consider all of the evidence.  We had to consider what awarding a large sum of money would do to the company being sued.  We had to consider the cost of medical care, how to assign a dollar amount to pain and suffering, and how to compensate the plaintiff and his wife for their loss of quality of life. 

In the last moments of deliberation, we added up all the parts and agreed that the sum of money we were awarding was much more than we had anticipated.  We did not change it, however, because we really felt that we had done due diligence in examining all of the evidence.  We came to a decisions together, based on what we learned during the trial and based on our own life experiences, and we felt the verdict was justified. 

It took us a full business day to complete deliberations -- the afternoon on day six and most of the morning on day seven.  At about 11:15 am, we let the Court Deputy know we had reached a verdict.  Once everyone was assembled, the ten of us returned to the court room and listened as the Court Deputy read our verdict.  I watched as the plaintiff and his wife were visibly moved by our decision.  I shed a tear or two myself.  I did not look at the defendant, though I wish I would have in retrospect.  And I watched as other jurors were equally as upset as I was.  The weight of our decision was never more apparent.

What we had just done was going to change the lives of all parties involved.  And I could not help but wonder how we were qualified to make such a decision.  On the other hand, aren't we the best people for the job?  Isn't that the point of our judicial system?  Though I was exhausted and overwhelmed by the responsibility of deciding this case, I wouldn't change a thing -- not the verdict, not the experience, not anything.

After the verdict was read and the judge made closing statements, we were released.  Free to go.  Free to talk to our families about the case.  Free to talk to the press.  Free to talk to either party in the case.  Free to research the case. We were thanked for our time and sent back out into the world with no debriefing, no post-trial counseling, nothing.  We all returned to our daily lives -- the plaintiff cannot, and the defendant will never have her son back.

We went back to the jury room, tidied up, and walked out.  We were warned that the plaintiff or defendant might wait for our departure and want to discuss with us the case.  I was prepared to give both parties my business card and take the afternoon off from the trial -- I decided before leaving that I would not answer questions that day but would make myself available for future conversations. What I was not prepared for was the sense of closure and relief I felt when I walked out of that jury room, and after shaking hands with the plaintiff's counsel, got to hug the plaintiff and his wife.  I got to tell them I was sorry this happen to them and give encouraging words. 

To be continued...

RIP Walter

 

I can't believe it's taken me so long to write this post.  Our old, loving, funny guy Walter passed away on Friday, July 27th.  He was such a good boy, and he gave us nearly two years of laughter and joy.

He came to us as an old man, already suffering from some normal ailments older dogs have -- fatty tumors and stiff joints.  We knew we wouldn't get much time with him.

He loved sitting on the back porch watching the days go by, chasing bunnies under the shed, and going on walks.  But, as dogs do, he began to have trouble getting up off the floor and navigating the stairs.  His body just decided the time had come, and we made the decision to let him go.  While there is comfort in making that decision for him, it's still hard to see him go.

Building Our Zoo

It's funny, when I was young I looked forward to the day that my cycle would start with such anticipation and celebrated when it did.  It was a major relief that I had made it another month without an oops!  How the tables have turned! -- I greet "Shark Week" like a sentence these days.  On the one hand, it's reassuring to know that my body is, in fact, working and cycling.  But it also means another month that Mike and I don't get to start our family.

I stopped taking my birth control pills in July 2009.  We weren't actively trying to conceive, but we felt we were ready to open our hearts and home to a baby should we be presented with the opportunity.  There were certainly times when we avoided baby-making (not the act, the outcome).  Job changes, financial stress, Dad's illness, trying to sell our house, and other events or circumstances sort of haulted things, but we were still in a "whatever happens happens" mode.  We've been telling friends and family who ask for three years just that -- whatever happens happens.

But it ain't happening.  We've been actively trying for about six months with no luck.  I've been charting and pinpointing my fertile days.  At my age, it probably would not hurt to see my doctor.  But we're just not there yet.  Part of me wants to relax, get healthier, and just embrace the process so that we can be utterly surprised and overjoyed when that test does show a positive result.  But we're also getting older.  And we're ready.  So ready.

Our Floor Project

Since we first bought this house back in 2005, we've talked about refinishing our wood floors.  Finally, the time has come, and it's done!  The house feels bigger, cleaner, and like it got back some of its charm.

Before:

 

 

 During:

There were some surprise along the way:

Four layers of linoleum in the kitchen!

 

Missing planks in the bathroom due to water damage before we moved in. (Tile it is, but a rug will have to do for now.)

 

After:
The only room that is actually totally finished is the guest bedroom. 

 But here's a sneak peek:

 

Coming Soon... 

The main stairs are 95% done, and I'll definitely share photos -- just can't commit to a runner, which needs to happen soon before one of us kills ourselves going down them.

The office gets new quarter round and a fresh coat of paint on the baseboards.

The living room and hallway get painted baseboards (slowly but surely...it's a tedious process).

Since I just can't leave well enough alone, I pulled the nasty, dirty carpet off the stairs to the garage and into the basement.  The top half will get new treads and painted risers.  The entryway will get tile, and the bottom half will get carpet when we get around to re-carpeting the basement.  Maybe, just maybe, even a railing!

Jury Duty: Part 1

It's been a couple weeks since the jury I served on delivered a verdict, and I've had a better opportunity to reflect on what it all means.  When I was first notified that I was expected to serve in the month of June, I was annoyed at the inconvenience and wondered how it would interfere with work and with our wood floors being refinished.  Those considerations were petty and inconsequential.  Work will go on.  Floors will be done. The responsibility of serving on this jury was far more important than any of those things.

Jury duty weighed on me heavily.  I found myself exhausted, overwhelmed, and confused during the trial.  After we delivered a verdict, I thought I'd be able to return to my normal routine.  I was wrong.  I think about the plaintiff, about the defendant, about the other jurors, and mostly about how the decision we made will impact the lives of those involved. 

I'm humbled by the amount of trust the court places on us as jurors -- just average people who are asked to weigh the evidence.  Not based on law.  Not based on years of schooling.  Just based on what we heard and observed during the trial.  And mostly based on our own experiences and best judgment.  None of us had any experience with law, but we all had experience with life, love, pain, marriage, and sacrifice.

Day One
I arrived at the federal courthouse shortly before 8:00 am.  Two jury cases were beginning that day.  All of the potential jurors assembled in the Juror Room where we were given instructions and refreshments.  We filled out some paperwork and watched an informational video.  When the judge was ready for us, the Court Deputy came and retrieved the jury pool assigned to our case.  I'd estimate there were 24 individuals who initially entered the courtroom.

The courthouse is beautiful -- like something you'd see on TV.  Marble and mahogany.  Huge, heavy double doors served as the entrance to the courtroom.  We entered and sat in the gallery.  The judge, the court reporter, the deputy, the plaintiff and his counsel, and the defense and counsel were all present.  The judge gave us instructions and provided some details about the civil case before us.  Some folks were dismissed from the beginning -- two women apparently were nursing mothers; the others for reasons I am unsure of.

After a short break, 17 of use were assigned to a seat in the jury box so voir dire (questioning of the jury to determine if any bias exists that would preclude someone from being fair in their judgment of the case) could begin.  If you've ever felt like someone was judging you or sizing you up, multiply that awkward feeling times 100.  That's what it feels like to go through jury selection.  Both sides watched our every move -- every reaction, every response to every detail and every question.  In the end, seven individuals were dismissed.  A few for obvious reasons relating to the case and a couple that appeared to be peremptory (meaning without any reason or cause).  One gal had to be just over 18 years old.  Another made emphatic statements that he could not or would not award a large sum of money to someone in a personal injury case.  One woman's brother died of a traumatic brain injury.  And another's husband was a patient of one of the doctors who would testify in the trial.

Ten of us were selected and seated in the jury box.  The judge gave us instructions.  We were not allowed to discuss the details of the case with anyone -- not our loved ones and not other jurors.  As jurors, we were only to discuss the details of the case when deliberations began.  This we handled by getting to know one another on a superficial level.  We had lunch together and talked about jobs and kids and spouses.  We had our own jury room and rest area where we spent seven days together.

We were instructed not to interact with any party to the case, even if it were "to pass the time of day."  Sounds easy enough, right?  As the trial progressed for over a week, it became increasingly difficult to ride elevators with the plaintiff or defendant and their counsel, use the same public restroom as the plaintiff, or enter the same building at the same security checkpoint every morning without running into each other.  And it felt rude and wrong not to hold doors, say good morning, or give a smile to the very people whose lives we were about to change.

Last, we were given some instructions about how to handle the evidence, the testimony, the objections, and the other court proceedings.  We learned more about the case -- essentially we would be determining the amount of damages given to the plaintiffs in a motor vehicle accident where fault had already been found on the part of the defendant.  The judge had already ruled that the defendant was negligent, and our job was to hear the case and award monies to the plaintiff based on the weight of the evidence.

After jury selection and lunch, the trial began.  Opening testimony included some more details about the case.  The plaintiff was severely injured when the truck he was driving was hit head on by another.  A piece of piping improperly attached to that truck impaled the plaintiff and caused serious injury to his abdomen, groin, and spine.  It's amazing that he lived and is able to walk today.  Unfortunately, the driver of the truck that caused the accident did not survive.  He died at the scene.

The mood in the courthouse was solemn.  Professionalism and formality abound.  What struck me early was the reverence for the jury.  Each time we entered or exited the courtroom, all parties stood and acknowledged our presence as they would for a judge in a bench trial.

What came next was days and days of testimony from the plaintiff and his wife, his medical doctors, witnesses at the scene, and expert testimony from the defense.  To be continued...

A Little Laugh

I have no idea why Mike and I found this so incredibly funny, but we were laughing hysterically at this when it was featured on Tosh.  Enjoy!

Stairway to Color

The stairway in our living room needed some color.  Since taking our home off the market, we've been slow to rehang photographs and artwork knowing that it'll have to come down again when we re-list the house.  That is, of course, unless it is neutral.

I used to have these three photo frames hung in the living room stairway.  I had sort of outgrown them and never put them back up after taking our house off the market.  A little rain shower in laundry room (busted refrigerator line) last week damaged these pieces and a few other items I had stashed there.  It was the perfect motivation to re-purpose the frames.

So off I set to figure out a way to bring in some color and re-use those frames.  I decided on a fabric at Hobby Lobby.  It wasn't cheap, but it was perfectly neutral and colorful.  The project itself was pretty simple.  I carefully removed the old artwork and backing and cleaned the glass.

Next, I used a piece of sturdy card stock to cut a piece that fit inside the frame.  Once I had one cut, I just duplicated that twice more.  I cut the fabric to allow some overhang on all edges and attached the new fabric with spray adhesive and trimmed the edges.  Tip:  use the straight edge provided by the fabric to line up your card stock correctly.

I then used some masking tape to protect the fraying edges (and my walls).  It also helped to secure the glass and new fabric to the frame itself. 

I am pretty happy with how well it turned out. (And aren't those new hardwood floors beautiful?)

 

And I have some fabric left over.  It might be just enough to cover a bench in our bedroom.  Or it could be a pillow cover.   Coming soon...