Deceiving Appearances

I was 21 years old. An adult, legally, but I was still naive in every sense of the word.

The notice came in the mail. "Summons to Jury Duty". How exciting, I thought. I was at uni, and working part time. I could have gotten out of it, being a student. My part time job was with the government, and they have an obligation to continue paying you when you serve Jury Duty. I was looking forward to analysing the structure of the court room, exposing myself to the element of danger in having a criminal look at you and know you're judging him. .

The date rolled around, and I woke up early that Monday, to catch the train into the city. The trains were late, as per usual, so I rushed from the train station in the city. It was winter, and the wind cut me through to the bone during the long walk to the Central Law Courts. I subjected myself to the security screening process, and took myself up to the Jury Room.

I don't know what I expected, but I certainly didn't expect 300 people in one large room. I was given my "number", and ceased to exist other than to be known as Juror Number 317. I'd brought a book with me, because I expected some waiting around, but found a spare seat near a TV and watched Kerri-Anne.

Half an hour later, the room sprang into action. Numbers were called, and groups trouped off to different court rooms. I was one of 25 people called to travel on a bus to Fremantle Court. "Wow, a trip" I thought.

We got on a bus, and the driver skillfully manipulated us around the busy mid morning city streets. We got to Fremantle, and I managed to fit in a smoke in between the walk from the bus to the building. It was still freezing, and the cigarette warmed me up. My group of 25 were lead into the court room, which was suprisingly modern. The defendent had his head down, shamefully, and looked like a bogan. 13 jurors numbers were chosen, myself not being one of them. We had to stay though, while the charges were read out, in case one of the jurors were challenged. "Grevious Bodily Harm". Boring. Finally we were off.

Back at the Central Law Courts, and my number was called out again. I was lead with another group, through a seemingly rabbits warren route to another court room. Again, my number wasn't called to be a juror, but the charge was read out. "Theft". Boring.

Back in the jury room, we were told we could go home. Could I come back on Wednesday? Sure, I'm able to serve on Wednesday.

Tuesday was back to work, and Wednesday I found myself on a cold, packed train again. On time and used to the process, I found myself in that large room. "Eh, they won't call me today, it'll be boring again" I thought. I'd forgotten my book this day, but remembered some snacks. An hour later, I was once again led through a rabbit's warren to a court room. The defendent was in his box, and was a clean cut, suited, kindly looking man in his 50s. "I bet it's fraud or something" I thought to myself. There were a pile of video tapes on the prosecutors desk, "I bet they have him on tape stealing from his company's safe"

My number was called. I was number 6, of 15 jurors, and the trial length was expected to be 5 days. Finally, some action. The charges were read out. "Mr X Z, To the charges of 11 counts of indecent exposure, 7 counts of sexual interference with a minor, and 5 counts of sexual penetration with a minor under the age of 12 of Miss Y Z, how do you plead?" "Not guilty".

My blood ran cold.

It was a monster, in a normal looking person's disguise.

There were so many counts of the different charges. He'd been doing something dodgy, with a little girl, someone that was relating to him in some way, someone that shared his last name, someone that trusted him. And some of the evidence was video tapes.

No, no, no, no, I can't do this, I can't listen to what this man has done, I don't want to know, I can't know.

When the voice of the defendent reverberated around the court room "Not guilty", there was a sob from the back of the court room, and I realised there were people, that looked too similar ot the defendent to not be related to one another.

The judge turned to look at the jurors. He peered at us, looking over his glasses, and said in a gentle voice, that the evidence in this case was of an extremely disturbing nature, and if any of us had experienced sexual trauma, we were to write our reasons on a piece of paper, and the judge will determine whether that person may be excused.

I've been very lucky, and could not be excused that way. Neither could anyone else in the jury box, it would seem.

Juror number 1 stood up and took the oath. Juror number 2 stood up and took the oath. Juror number 3 stood up to take the oath and as she opened her mouth, the defence lawyer looked at her and said "challenge". Juror number 3 left the stand. Jurors number 4 & 5 took the oath, and then it was my turn. I shakily, nervously rose to my feet, put my hand on the bible, and looked at the piece of paper that had what I was supposed to read out.

I looked over at the defence lawyer. Her head was down, she was writing something in a notepad. "Please look up, please please challenge me, please" I willed her, hoping she might be able to receive my message via ESP, hoping she would see the pleading in my eyes. She kept her head down.

I drew a big breath and opened my mouth to read my oath.

"Challenge"

My legs nearly buckled with relief as I left the jury box. I sat with the court officer, until they were ready to take us from the court room. Out of 15 jurors, 5 were challenged, we were all females under the age of 30. I guess the defence lawyer thought we would identify with the victim. She was right.

They had to reselect jurors, and a few of them were challenged, til there were 14 jurors, all unchallenged, all sworn in.

I got back to the jury room, and was discharged from jury duty.

I walked back to the train station, with the image of the kindly looking monster in my head. I chewed it over and over, why was I so disturbed. Then I figured it out - this was a man I would smile at if I saw him on the street. This was a man that I would make small talk to, if he was behind me in the queue at the grocery store. This is a man I would immediately put faith in, yet he had betrayed the trust of someone close to him.

Thus began my real adult life. Cynicism, and waryness began to rule my head. Every normal looking person, could be a monster underneath the disguise.