Jury Trial Nightmares

“Barbara, we’re late! We’re supposed to be back in court for jury selection in 20 minutes!”

It was 1994 and this was my first jury trial at the Department of Justice. I was so nervous, but also excited. Thankfully, my experienced co-counsel was my supervisor, Barbara. We were over-prepared and ready to go. We traveled from Sacramento to Kings County for a three week employment discrimination trial. We had bottled water and lots of snacks from Trader Joe’s, as well as dozens of Manila file folders and cardboard boxes stuffed with documents jammed into the trunk of my aging Subaru. An hour earlier, we checked into the Hanford Inn during the morning break. The Hanford Inn was one of two hotels in town and was conveniently located across the street from the Hanford Mall. Later, we discovered the massage chairs at the mall which we frequented in the evenings after a long day in court. We brought suitcases to our rooms but did not have time to unload all of our trial boxes. I grabbed my working trial binder with the most important documents needed for court that day. Questionnaire responses completed by prospective jurors, my chart with 12 empty boxes to fill with post-it notes about prospective jurors during jury selection, outlines of my questions for voir dire, my opening statement and several witness files with draft questions were all in the binder I carried. In 1994, attorneys still hand wrote notes in pen on legal pads.

I placed the binder on the top of my car while we struggled to lift and move a large exhibit and easel from the trunk to the backseat for quick unloading when we got back to court. Believing that we had everything we needed for the first day of trial, we headed back to court. As we got out of the car, I asked Barbara to hand me my binder. With a confused look, Barbara said, “I don’t have your trial binder?” So, I reached into the back seat to grab my file, but it wasn’t there and it wasn’t in the trunk either. I started to panic when all of a sudden I remembered that I put the binder on the top of the car when we were loading up in the hotel parking lot. Barbara and I looked at each other as we mutually realized in horror that I drove through the town of Hanford in the rain with the binder on top of my car, and it was no longer there. Now, we had 10 minutes. We sped back to the hotel thinking that the binder had simply fallen off my car top in the parking lot, when I suddenly noticed strewn paperwork all over the road on the other side of the median where we had driven to court. My breathing became shallow, my face turned beet red and I began sweating in my new dark blue Jones New York business suit. The air was so humid from the warm rain.

Barbara calmed me down immeasurably when she yelled, “Oh my god, pull over, that’s your trial binder!” We were on the busiest avenue in town and it was now pouring rain. Helpfully, Barbara said, “you get the files, I’ll watch the car.” A traffic median separated the north and southbound traffic. I got out of the car in the rain and started picking up dozens of wet papers while I zig zagged back and forth between oncoming traffic and my car in a real world version of Frogger.

The papers were wet and curling. My notes dripped down the page creating puddles of blue ink. I struggled to pick up the now razor-thin wet papers without tearing them, while avoiding the traffic coming directly towards me at the same time. When I retrieved what I believed to be most of the papers, Barbara patted them with paper towels while I sped back to the courthouse. Without time for organization, I shoved the still wet and soggy papers into a new redwell.

When we returned to court and the judge began the jury selection process, I was as damp and damaged as my trial documents. I took my first look at the dripping curling papers in no particular order. I lost most of the juror questionnaires but I found a few pages of my draft jury voir dire questions. They were difficult to read with the blue ink dripping down the page and tire marks covering most pages, but somehow I got through jury selection. That night back at the hotel, we were able to laugh at the situation now that it was over.

I compiled what was left of my tire-marked pen bleeding papers for the next day. I was so relieved that the nightmare was over. Shortly after the attorneys discussed pre-trial issues, the jury was brought in. But, before opening statements commenced, the court clerk told the judge that there was an important matter she needed to discuss with the Court and the attorneys. The jurors were escorted back to the jury room. Then, the court clerk announced that the sheriff’s department found a bunch of papers pertaining to the jury and the trial on Hanford Avenue. I froze for what seemed like an eternity before I had to confess to the judge and opposing counsel that I put my trial binder on the roof of my car and the rain and wind swept it away all over the busiest street in town. Luckily, the judge’s response was muted and we resumed trial for the day. The next day, the clerk announced to all, “Your honor, the sheriff’s department found more documents relating to the trial on the roadway.”

My face turned as red as a child’s toy wagon and I apologized once again as I thought, “will this nightmare ever end?” This time the Judge did not seem amused.

Luckily, no more paperwork was found in the road after that and we continued the trial with my remaining tire-marked papers. I framed one of the tire-marked papers and displayed it in my office until the day I retired as a reminder to never be too confident or complacent.