I read my Jury Summons, understood that somehow, it was my obligation, as a citizen to offer my services as a potential Juror. I was reminded by the 15 minute orientation video, that I was special, that it was necessary for me to become one with my peers and if asked, to proudly sit, on a Jury for the Superior Court of California. I was also reminded, almost at the very end of the video, as the patriotic music was ebbing into oblivion, that a US Marshal would come and pay me a visit if I did not show up at court to do my American thing. I drove from my home on the West Side of LA to DTLA ( its cool, its upscale, its DownTown LA), taking Melrose Avenue going east. It was early in the morning because nothing says Jury Duty like being in court at 8 a.m. Melrose, like most of LA has become gentrified, rents are outrageously high, mom and pop shops replaced by clothing boutiques with price tags starting at $3000 for a dress, to Coffee Shops selling a basic latte for $8.50. But gentrification does take time, and as if a tornado had hit Melrose, the scenery changed, and mom and pop shops suddenly emerged, and with the battered buildings were many more homeless, either waking up from their slumber in from of a shuttered store, or some now claiming their territory for the upcoming day. Had I not been a resident of LA I would have thought I had taken a turn, got lost of ended up in some strange configuration of a neighborhood?
Melrose lead to the 101 Freeway, a maddening mysterious road with more merging per mile, more exits per mile and more mindless drivers on their phones all trying to get to the same place, but never quite getting there on time. In LA the use of a turn single to merge is an insane arcane practice, a turn single in LA justifies the car in the next lane to speed up and of course not let you in. Sometimes my Pittsburgh driving skills are just so ancient. A few exits later and I am in DTLA. I understand why it is called DTLA, because THIS neighborhood is so new, so fresh, so fantastic, so much millennial. And like so many urban planners, the folks in LA, decided that the poor, the homeless, the mentally ill, who used to inhabit Down Town, were really no longer necessary. And like so many urban centers, all proud of their shiny high-rises, and expensive restaurants and overly expensive shops, the former residents were shifted away, to rot in parts of town not yet pricy, to fend for themselves, because it is not too cool to build homes for the homeless.
My case was to be at least a 30 day trial. The judge asked who might have a financial problem with the duration of the trial. Strangers, just innocent citizens of LA, had to openly discuss their income, in front of all of us. Somehow a single mother, making $20,000 who needed to take her kids to school before work and pick them up after work, was the bad guy for requesting a waiver for 30 days of a trial. Caregivers, family members were told to hire someone else to take care of their parents or spouses or children. All 50 of us had to hear the trials and tribulations of total strangers, all seemingly shamed because they needed to work, they needed to take care of family members. Its the law, said the Judge. As I sat there listening to real life concerns, all I could think of was the Judge telling us we must abide by the law, while the guy sitting in the Oval Office has broken almost a dozen laws. How was this fair I thought? How does America work, I wondered?
