July 14, Tuesday
I HAD finished one of my knitting projects and started another one when the bailiff called my number.
I gathered my things and walked to the front of the courtroom, then climbed into the witness stand.
I'd worn the green dress again, the nicest thing in my closet, and had tried to change it up with a scarf.
Now I wondered if I looked ridiculous, old-fashioned.
My heart was pounding so loud in my ears, I was sure everyone could hear it.
From this vantage point, the courtroom looked bigger, more imposing.
Judge Arnold was even more impressive at close range.
And Robert Blackthorne looked more menacing.
I dragged my gaze away from his and found myself searching for the deputy at the back of the courtroom. I found him. I must've looked as nervous as I felt because he gave me the tiniest of nods.
"Juror 247, I'm going to ask you a few questions," the judge said warmly. "Just answer as honestly as you can."
"Yes, sir." My voice came out remarkably steady, which surprised me.
"Describe yourself in three words."
I'd heard him ask the same question of other jurors, so the fact that I wasn't prepared to answer left me flustered. I sat with the full weight of the courtroom on me and went completely blank. After a long silence, I gave myself a mental kick and my brain jumpstarted.
"Loyal," I said. "Dependable. And patient."
I let those three words sit for exactly one second before it hit me.
"I realize I just described a golden retriever," I blurted.
A ripple of laughter went through the gallery and my face flamed. The judge's mouth moved appreciatively.
"What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?"
"I have two teenagers, so spare time is—" I paused. "Mostly theoretical. But when I have it, I knit."
"I've noticed you knitting to pass the time," he acknowledged. "What kinds of things do you knit?"
I swallowed hard. "Um, my current project is… Knitted Knockers."
A titter passed over the room and I suddenly wished I'd said something else.
His eyebrows rose. "What are knitted knockers?"
I reached inside my knitting bag and removed a closely knitted dome the size of a paper weight in a nice shade of taupe. "They're for women who've had mastectomies and need filler for their, um… bra."
The courtroom fell completely silent. The judge gave me a warm smile. "What a wonderful project."
"I lost my mother to breast cancer," I said, now rambling. "I want to… help."
He nodded. "Do you work outside the home?"
I pressed my lips together. "No. I'm a stay-at-home mom. My last job was in marketing, when my children were small."
Another nod. "What accomplishment are you most proud of?"
The room waited. I searched. Not my marriage, obviously. My children? I didn't see them as my accomplishments. My home? That sounded so materialistic, and besides, it wasn't even true.
I opened my mouth, hoping something would come to mind. "I…"
He gave me a respectful ten seconds, then moved on, which was either merciful or damning. I felt like an idiot.
"What concerns you most about serving on this jury?"
That one I had. "Coming to the wrong conclusion."
The judge sat back and threaded his fingers together. "That's important to you—to come to the right conclusion?"
"Yes," I said. "But not just the right conclusion—the just conclusion, for everyone involved."
Another nod. "And finally—is there any reason the attorneys should consider not selecting you?"
I gave a little laugh. "I'm not a great public speaker, as you've probably gathered. And I'm not a particularly interesting person."
Judge Arnold looked at me over his glasses.
"Neither am I," he said. "Hasn't slowed me down much."
The gallery laughed.
"Juror 247, you may return to your seat."
I did, skin tingling. I sat down and replayed my answers over and over, wishing I'd said other things. Smarter things. Finally I resumed knitting and relaxed. What's done was done, and it was for the best. I'd given the attorneys plenty of ammunition to send me home.
But when the numbers of excused jurors were called, mine wasn't one of them.
I was still in the running.
I walked back to my car genuinely unsure whether to be relieved or terrified, and landed, provisionally, somewhere in between.