Some people are intrigued by the thought of being an extra on the set of their favourite courtroom drama such as12 Angry Men orTo Kill a Mockingbird. Others dread it. It’s a bit like compulsory voting – the election day queues are a bore and the parking’s a nightmare,but there’s democracy sausages and the consolation of quietly turfing out whichever mouth-breathing plonker has been giving you the pip for the past three years. That’s civic duty for you. Swings,meet roundabouts.
The jury’s out on the best coutroom drama of all time,but To Kill a Mockingbird would be up there.Universal Pictures
For whatever reason,the gods of the NSW Sheriff’s Office have had a love-hate relationship with my dad over the decades. He is to a criminal trial what a fourth placegetter is to a medal dais. The summonses have been many. The waits have been long. The jury berths have been none.
Like many others,Dad has always been sanguine about the prospect of sitting on a panel,including the one that he was called to serve on last week. This time at least,he seemed to be a walk-up start. Who else but a life-experience-rich retiree has the patience and inclination to slog his way through 12 weeks of boring testimony,interminable legal mumbo-jumbo and suspiciously dry finger sandwiches?
As a prospective juror,his credentials are impeccable. He’s kind. He’s fair. As a father of five and a grandfather of 12,he’s spent the better part of five decades confronting delinquent behaviour and,while he’s not averse to the odd bit of summary justice,he’s a firm believer in weighing up evidence and delivering a reasoned verdict in a timely fashion.
Despite this,his most recent attempt at empanelment lasted as long as it takes to produce a driver’s licence and hear,“I see you’re over 70. Owing to your age,” he was told sympathetically,“you won’t be required to serve today. And I’ll take you off the roll so that you won’t be served again in future”. No voir dire. Just,“the exit’s here”.
For context,Dad is 77. He walks unassisted,does not require frequent toilet breaks and,in all likelihood,would’ve beaten his gracious but misguided government worker/wannabe personal saviour in a race around the block.
Amazingly,Dad didn’t have a NSW statute book on him,so he didn’t argue the point,but the exemption the clerk was relying on to excuse him from sitting was actually designed to ensure that,at their own discretion,to avoid having to complete jury service if it would cause them undue hardship or serious inconvenience for a range of reasons,including age-related ones. Presumably the fact that Dad had travelled 12 stops by train and then legged it into court would’ve conveyed at least some willingness to be a part of the jury process.
Age – or lack of it – does not an ideal juror make,a point I ably demonstrated whilst answering my first juror summons about 20 years ago. Having unsuccessfully claimed an exemption on the basis of my legal qualifications (a Bachelor ofreruns),I caught sight of a weasel-faced defendant in a larceny case and spent the next five minutes making slashing motions across my throat and miming a hangman’s noose. Evidence,shmevidence. Astonishingly,I was promptly excused from taking any further part in the proceedings.
There are some who would argue that with people like my younger self polluting the jury pool,the age for mandatory service should be lifted as a matter of urgency,thereby relieving well-intentioned officials of the burden of bouncing perfectly competent septuagenarians.
At present,. Notwithstanding his lack of local citizenship,US President Joe Biden is 81,and would therefore be gently excluded by our NSW government gatekeeper friend. Donald Trump,that young whipper-snapper,is 77,and would probably also be out. Paul McCartney,who is 81 and still touring,would nonetheless be told,“Hello,Goodbye”. Souths coach-elect Wayne Bennett will be 75 next January. By the time he starts three years of Latrell-whispering,his ability to serve on NSW jury will be in serious jeopardy. Vogue supremo Anna Wintour,meanwhile,had better pray she doesn’t get called up for one of those interminable 30-week tax avoidance cases. At 74-and-a-half,she’d likely be out on her diamond-studded ear by the time closing arguments rolled around.
Whatever your political affiliations (and for the love of god,please stick a democracy sausage in your gob if the needle is stuck on Trump),the idea that any one of these people is incapable of connecting the evidentiary dots between a knuckle-dragging scumbag and a shipment of methamphetamine,is fanciful.
Ladies and gentlemen,in the case of the people versus any prospective juror who has retired in the past decade or so,what say you? You can return a verdict,but only if you’re under 75.
Michelle Cazzulino is a Sydney writer.
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