Lessons from Jury Duty

Free at last! Free at last! Thank Polk County, I am free at last!

No, I wasn't just released from jail, but close: I just completed my nine weeks of grand jury duty. The judge had warned us we'd have a very different view of our community after serving, but I have to say mine hasn't really changed &mdash although I did learn how closely our local casino monitors every square inch of itself and how to stay just this side of the law.

I did not, however, answer the age-old chicken-and-egg question of whether drugs make one stupid or one has to be stupid to do drugs... but I definitely think there's some correlation. At least three-quarters of those indicted on drug charges might have gone free if they hadn't told the cops where to find their drugs/pipes/syringes and hadn't said, "Yeah, that's mine."

Something else my jury duty reinforced, is there are good cops and there are not-so-good cops. I'm not talking Vic Mackey bad, but we had a few who testified while chopping on gum and oozing a why-are-you-wasting-my-time attitude. Luckily the good outnumbered the bad &mdash at least during my service.

One of our favorite returning visitors was a detective who arranged and busted drug buys. He said he dreams of going undercover someday, but he's far too cute and tat-free (not to mention too intelligent) to come across as a typical drug user.

"So," I asked him, "if I see you in a parking lot talking to some shady character, should I yell, 'Hey, Detective; how's it going?'"

"Uh, I'd rather you didn't," he said.

"Okay. How about if I run over, yell, 'You son of a bitch, you got my little brother hooked on that junk!' and then sock you in the face?"

He just blinked a couple of times, as if trying to decide whether I was serious. (I think some of my fellow jurors wondered that, too.)

"C'mon," I coaxed. "It would help sell your story, give you some street cred."

"I'd, uh, I'd rather you just act like you don't know me."

Funny; I hear that a lot.