Parking Violators Beware

By Beth Tally

People who never knew my mother really missed something.  Mother wasn’t a character.  Characters are people who might be a little strange.  But, mom did have her idiosyncrasies. 

She was just this side of both a Christian Scientist and a saint.  She depended on God to make her well rather than pay a doctor.  As long as you didn’t cross her husband or children, she loved you.  But, that could end at the card table if you found yourself to her left at a game of Hearts or on an opposing team in Bridge.  She was also a baseball nut, staying up all night listening to games until they wound down on the West coast.

Mother’s profession was homemaking.  For the longest time, we only had one car and she used it on Wednesdays to run all of her weekly errands.  The rest of the time, she stayed at the house.  When dad finally bought a second vehicle, her world exploded into a rat race of carpooling, meetings and commitments.  She managed it all well, but I don’t think she ever relinquished that first love. 

As she aged and we children flew the coop, her activities reverted back to a more sedentary type.  She spent countless hours in the kitchen by the fire knitting.  Her daily world revolved once again around dad – his breakfast, his lunch, his dinner, his meetings, his Sunday school class.  She did enjoy visiting her children and grandchildren, but for the most part, she didn’t get around much anymore.

So, it came as quite a surprise to my dad when she, at the age of 68, decided to take up the offer from the City of Greenville for jury duty in Master in Equity court.  Dad was a lawyer and knew all the ins and outs of the jury system – particularly how one could get out of serving.  He explained to mother that since she was over 65, she could excuse herself.  Or, she could beg off because he was a practicing attorney which could create a conflict of interest.  But, she was determined to fulfill her civic duty. 

When the appointed day arrived, Mother got up early to pack what she thought she would need to take with her.  She tucked her portable radio and earphones in the bottom of her knitting bag and covered them with multiple skeins of yarn.  She carried her pad and pen to make lists for groceries or things to do.  She grabbed a couple of greeting cards to write notes of friendship to some unsuspecting person she thought might just need a lift. After obviously setting dad’s lunch in the front of the refrigerator (he came home everyday to eat and take a nap), she slapped together a bologna and cheese sandwich for herself.  When they finished breakfast, dad took her to the courthouse and made sure she found her way to the Master in Equity courtroom.  He deposited her into the able hands of the clerk and left to go to his office.         

To fully understand what happened next, it’s necessary to describe the function of the Master in Equity court.  It’s a small claims court where one would go to protest a parking violation or some other minor injustice.  But, it’s a court nonetheless, and the jury system works the same for it as do criminal and civil courts.  Which means the judge (or Master in Equity) must canvas the jury pool and instruct them on the proper proceedings of his court.

The judge began by asking everyone to stand and introduce themselves, saying name, occupation and name of spouse.  This gave him the opportunity to remove someone based upon any conflict that he might see – such as being married to a lawyer.  Mother announced her information.  The judge acknowledged knowing dad, but didn’t see that it would be a problem for mother to serve as a juror. 

Next, he turned the jury pool’s attention to the other people sitting in the courtroom.  He asked the defendants in the cases that would be heard that day to stand and polled the jurors as to whether they knew any of them.  Mother did not.  He then asked all of the lawyers, policemen and others involved in the cases to stand for the same scrutiny.  Mother proudly passed through this interrogation minefield without a hitch.  She was on her way to being a member of the jury pool.

After all the formal procedures ended, the judge turned to the jury pool and said, “Before we begin with today’s first matter, does anyone have anything that they need to bring to my attention that might have bearing on your ability to serve as a juror.”

Mother raised her hand.  The judge acknowledged her.  “Yes, Mrs. Kendrick.  What is it you’d like to say?”

“Your honor,” mother answered, “I think it’s important that you know I don’t believe in capital punishment.”

A silence briefly hung over the courtroom as everybody digested this information.  The poor suckers who had insisted on having their day in court over a $15 parking fine were stunned by the prospect that capital punishment might be an outcome.

Out of respect for mother, the judge stifled what I’m sure was the urge to break out in a belly laugh.  “Thank you, Mrs. Kendrick, for sharing that with the court.  I don’t think it will keep you from being able to serve.”

When the court adjourned for lunch, the judge went to his chambers and promptly called dad at the office to relay what had transpired.  Dad just shook his head laughing.  That afternoon, he drove back to the courthouse to pick up mother.  She waited right outside the courtroom door, knitting bag in hand, filled with pride at her day’s accomplishments.

“Did you get picked to be on any of the juries?” he asked.

“No,” she answered.  “Every time my name was drawn, the defendant’s lawyer struck me.”

“Well, I wonder why that was?” he said chuckling to himself as they drove back home. 

Until the day she died, mother never knew that dad knew. It seems opposing capital punishment didn’t get her on any of the juries, but I have a feeling it held some sway with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.