Jury Duty Dad: What I’ll tell my kids about the life sentence I helped hand out

“I’ll be home by mid-afternoon I bet,” I quipped at my wife on the way out the door to go through the motions mandated by my Jury Duty summons.

Boy, was I wrong.

Not only was I selected to be on the jury for the trial, the charge in the case was MURDER IN THE FIRST DEGREE. Yes, MURDER!!! That’s right, the guy that prides himself on quietly raising kids in the suburbs while working a mundane “9 to 5” suddenly feels the weight of a stranger’s life placed squarely on my shoulders.

Oh crap!

After the initial shock of my selection wore off and the interruptions to our daily lives were temporarily cured, the trial began. So did my notetaking of what I’d tell my kids about this experience. I had a sneaking suspicion the lessons I’d take from the courtroom would stick with me forever.

They will.

Lesson 1: Digital Forensics

I’ve never seen a binder as thick as the one the case’s lead detective carried with him to the witness stand. The dark blue three-ring binder had to be 10 inches thick and lined with a hundred, well organized, colored tabs. The level of organization required to create such a file was as impressive as the information it must contain.

As it turns out, the binder was filled with, what the courtroom called, “digital forensics” – the legal code for cell phone records of the accused. The jury was pointed to several conversations and photos from various internet sources – Facebook messenger, SMS text messages, Instagram posts, and, most prolifically, the defendant’s Snapchat content.

The amount of information contained in the Defendant’s device – both damning and totally harmless – was astounding to me. My head spun as screenshot of Snapchat messages and pictures were shown in the court. It seemed that piecing the details of the murder together was less “Sherlock Holmes-y” and more of a deep dive into the memory card of a discarded Samsung and iPhone.

I thought about that well organized binder as I watched my kids sink into Snapchat or Instagram Reels one evening. What would such digital forensics reveal about their online whereabouts or interests?

I internally debated whether the fact that EVERYTHING is stored (and retrievable) should make me feel better or worse about the media privileges I’ve given them on social media. Most of all, though, I wondered how safe these platforms are – for the taking in of content that should not be allowed in the public domain.

This was the first time I’ve heard of “digital forensics”. Maybe all parents need digital forensic certifications.

Lesson 2: The Power of Proximity

One-by-one, each lawyer called witnesses that were hanging out before, during, or after the murder. These witnesses were all young, of diverse backgrounds, and united by having chilled on a set of bleachers together one random summer night. Some were friends, some related, and others relative strangers – all are now forever linked by a night that abruptly ended with gun shots.

After listening to the witnesses, I started to think about my teenagers’ hanging out in big groups in public – at the park, riding their bikes to the gas station for a cheap soda, or meeting up at a classmate’s house. I rarely probe them about what goes on during these hang outs, simply making sure they were in the location they said they would be via Life360. Furthermore, I usually only know the names of the kids I’m familiar with that are there – not everyone.

The case emphasized, to me, that I need to explain to my kids that they can be held responsible for the actions of the larger group – whether they are involved or not, whether they are friends with anyone causing trouble or not, whether they knew or didn’t that trouble was in the offing.

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I guess the rule of thumb might be: if you’re around trouble, you’re in trouble no matter what.

Lesson 3: Pop Your Bubble

No matter how presumably shielded your kids are from such horrific scenes as those I heard from the jury box, think again. Murders, drug deals, and young people carrying guns happens everywhere – not only reversed for the stereotypical ghettos and slums.

This fact slapped me in the face as I recognized that scene of the crime – an apartment complex less than five miles from where I live. While my suburban bubble feels pretty safe, it may be flimsy at best and totally deceptive at worst. The only way to become aware of the world around you – the larger one that kids are entering each day – is to venture outside of your own bubble.

I was left feeling that although I’m glad that my kids and I feel generally safe, we should not develop a false sense of security that our bubble expands limitlessly.

Lesson 4: One side cheers, the other slumps, all cry

When my fellow jurors and I reached a verdict, we each felt the weight of the lives our decision would impact.

As the Court Reporter read, “Guilty”, one side erupted in excitement while the other hung their head in disappointment. Everyone, though, cried – the mother and father of the young man killed, the defendant, and the friends and family in the gallery.

Even those that were pleased with the outcome were subdued. Sadness filled the air – the same sadness I felt when every young person took the witness stand in front of me. There were, after all, far too many young lives changed on this summer night, now further impacted by the unanimous decision levied by twelve total strangers who’d all rather not have been forced to do so.

I won’t soon forget that feeling and, by association, I’m determined to protect my kids from such profound sadness.

My jury duty quickly went from “be home on Monday afternoon” into rushing out late on Friday afternoon – just in time for the pick up walk to my kids’ elementary school. Tired and mentally fried, I waited patiently for the school bell to ring.

I paid extra attention to the heat of the sun that beat down on me. I gave less attention to the complaints of a nearby dad about an errant Little League call the night before. My attention was undivided as my daughter charged at me, smiling from ear-to-ear. I need that.

Damn, I’m lucky.

And, damn, I better start raising my kids and acting like there are others amongst us that might not be.

In this way, my kids and I have all learned from my week of jury duty.