I’ve twice been called up. The first time was to Minshull Street court in Manchester. My first trial was for a Polish guy who threatened his wife and assaulted a police officer when he was called to attend. When he was questioned by the prosecution, he said “No comment”, and was swiftly told by the judge that he had to answer all questions put to him. I still remember the defendant’s name after 30 odd years. The case lasted about 4 days and was quite interesting. The second case was for a mundane traffic offence, well before the days of Nick Freeman (Mr Loophole).
The second time was around 20 years ago, at Crown Square in Manchester. I had a rape case which was so weak the judge ordered the jury to find not guilty, and he criticised the police and CPS for bringing the case. Another trial was against a young lad accused of raping a Down syndrome young adult. The judge said she was mentally defective, a legal term meaning she was not capable of making certain decisions for herself, and needed protection from the law in these areas. There was a strong implication she could not consent to having sex. However, some of the jurors would not have it that she was defective as they considered this to be a derogatory term towards the young girl, and this was a hung jury. To the consternation of the other jurors the foreman of the jury gave the wrong decision, and there were suppressed coughs behind him until he realised and corrected his mistake.
Another case I had was of someone who was caught receiving a television at 3 o’clock in the morning. He claimed he didn’t know it was stolen from a nursing home down the road. My fellow jurors outvoted me in finding him not guilty. The judge was not pleased and he refused the defendant’s request to have his expenses paid.
Then on the last day of my service, the ushers called thirty of us and we were driven to Minshull Street to be selected for a jury in a drugs case, which was due to last two weeks. I was lucky enough to be selected, and had another week off work hearing about all the finer aspects of drug smuggling and the gangster lifestyle. The judge here fined one juror for appearing late for a session, yet he himself nodded off at one point during the trial.
For me, it was much easier than work, as we would be asked to attend at 10am or sometimes 12am the next morning, and we were hardly ever still in court at 4pm. And someone was covering my work so it wasn’t as if I had a backlog to go back to.
I found the whole experience to be very interesting. The worrying thing for me though, is the thought that someone’s liberty can be decided by twelve random people, supposed to be of good standing. Of my fellow jurors, there were a couple of middle-aged people flirting with each other, who eventually withdrew from the discussion having made up their minds, and were not about to be persuaded. Some had a remarkable unexplained loyalty towards the criminal fraternity. Many had an unfortunate inability to concentrate for long periods. Some appeared to show disfavour towards ethnic minorities. I mentioned the ones that let a guy off from raping a Down syndrome girl, because they refused to accept that she had limited mental capacity.
On the subject of wanting to be excused, a friend of mine has chronic back pain, and his doctor wrote to the court saying he could not sit down for long periods of time (which was true). On the other hand, there should be some form of intelligence test to make sure the jurors are competent, so if you tell the court you are a member of Bluemoon, that might be sufficient to get you out of it.
