Opinion : Why (I think) I did not, and may never, serve on a jury

Editor’s Note: This is the first in a series on serving on jury duty. I was in the jury pool in September, and when a mistrial caused the case on which I was a prospective juror to be put on trial again in October, I received the unique opportunity to see much of the same case from both the perspective of a potential juror and from my usual perspective as a member of the media. Part one focuses on why, most likely, I was not chosen for the final jury panel in September.

“So, Dean, why didn’t you get picked for the jury?” he asked.

“Because,” I replied, “I’ve been hanging out with you for the last 20 years.”

That conversation took place on the steps of the Benton County Law Enforcement Center between Detective Mark Phippen and me on Wednesday, Sept. 26.

Two mornings earlier, I was sitting in the back row of the jury box, one of 25 perspective jurors. I was not one of the 13 (12 jurors and one alternate) chosen to decide the innocence of the defendant.

I always assumed that my job would pretty much keep me from being chosen on a jury. But that is not solely because I am a journalist – people from any profession, including the judge who presided over the trial – can serve on a jury. That judge had served on a jury a week before this trial.

What makes me particularly unlikely to serve on a jury is that much of my job has focused on crime, courts and law enforcement. I work on a regular basis with many law enforcement officers. And those guys are usually among the first to testify at any trial.

Questions

There were more than 40 perspective jurors who answered the call to report at 8:30 a.m. Monday, Sept. 24. Of that group, 25 were selected for the initial jury pool. I was one of those.

Both sides in a criminal case have the opportunity to question the jurors to make sure that the defendant receives a fair and impartial trial. One of the first questions they ask (after making sure you have no health issues or non-refundable airline tickets for flights during the trial) is “Do you know anyone involved in this case?”

Then the defense attorney, Al Willett, asked the prospective jurors if any of us knew the officers involved in the case. Detective Phippen’s name was the second one mentioned.

Detective Phippen was the lead investigator in the case.

I knew most of the officers involved in the case, which is normal after being in Vinton media for 10 years. But I also knew Detective Phippen as far back as 1996, when I worked for a while at the Oelwein newspaper and he was an officer in the same town.

Mr. Willett did not ask me for any specifics about my professional interactions with any of the law enforcement officers.

If he had, I would have been required by law and the oath I took upon beginning my service as a potential juror to tell the following story:

One of the most interesting stories I ever wrote involved a case in which Phippen was involved. A man who had been in jail many times and had just gotten out of jail did something to earn a trip back in. It was, I think 1996. The Oelwein police chief invited me to come along as they executed a search warrant and arrested the man for breaking into a neighbor’s house, stealing pizzas and other food items, starting a fire then walking back to his house – in the snow.

I was surprised to receive an invitation like that but of course I went. The defendant’s defense attorney did later complain about the stories being published the day his client was arrested.

“We almost lost that case,” Phippen told me last month, referring to the legal questions my presence and stories had raised. “But it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Later, the U.S. Supreme Court would issue a ruling that basically ended the practice of inviting media to witness the execution of search warrants (we can still take photos of whatever we see on a public street, however).

Defense lawyers are almost certain to strike from the list of jurors someone with that kind of experience with an officer expected to testify.

I was both relieved and disappointed when I did not hear my name among the jurors called to listen to the evidence and render a verdict. I felt relieved because I am a bit apprehensive about having to make a decision affecting somebody else; what disappointed me was knowing how much I could have learned from that experience.

The list of 25 potential jurors is narrowed down to 13 by the attorneys taking turns and one-by-one “striking,” or marking the names of the list. We do not know which attorney chose to strike which prospective juror, or why. The judge said he would not know, either. 

But in my case, I have a pretty good idea.