I was at the courthouse today, awaiting my fate as a potential juror in a retrial of the the 1997 murder of Douglas Earl Joe. Joe was killed May 21, 1997, when a man entered his Uplands Drive home with a handgun and shot him several times in the chest while his girlfriend and her six-year-old daughter hid in an upstairs closet.
Joe, an Ontario Hydro lineman, was killed five days before he was supposed to testify against Mr. Peter Chenier, a local mobster, as a Crown witness. Yep. This is Goodfellas in real life. And here I was. A potential juror in a high profile first degree murder case involving mobsters. Lovely.
I was due in court at 9:15 AM. I left my car at the park ‘n ride and took an express bus to ensure I would get there on time. Thankfully, I did. My notice indicated to report to room 3145. I took the elevator up to the room and saw at least 80 people already inside sitting and waiting. Just like a waiting room at a hospital. I walked in and presented my summons to the clerk. They checked the list and everything was good to go. I was asked to sit down and wait with the others. By 9:45 AM there were 200 people in and around the waiting room awaiting their fate as a juror. The main courtroom was set to open at 10 AM.
By 10:10 AM we were advised there was a bit of a delay (one of the clerks was tied up in traffic) and that we would be ushered into the courtroom (all 200 of us) in the next few minutes. Soon enough the time came for us to go in. We were guided through a maze of corridors to the court back entrance, like a herd of cows ready for the slaughter. It was only until I entered the courtroom that I realized this was a MAJOR trial. There were at least five lawyers for the prosecution on one side, and three for the defendants. All of them were watching us come in, as though they were pre-screening their pool of jurors in advance. I sat down and noticed the defendants were at the front left side of the courtroom, guarded by two cops and sectioned off with shatterproof glass. They both looked like the real deal. Mobsters. I realized then and there. That’s as close as i’ll ever get to cold blooded murderers. Now, you must be asking yourself. Hey, Richard. These guys are presumed innocent until proven guilty. Under normal circumstances I would say ‘yes’. But this case is not a normal circumstance. These guys were found guilty in their last trial, but the verdict was thrown out on a technicality where the judge was proven not to properly instruct the jury. This time ’round it seems as though the judge is making sure he has all of his bases covered.
The court session began with the judge addressing us and thanking us for putting our life on hold to meet the needs of the judicial system. Then came the reading of the charges: First degree murder, use of illegal explosives, and the grocery list of charges continued for five minutes. By this point I knew if I was chosen as a juror I would be stuck in this trial for at least three months. Not an option. I had to figure a way out. After the charges were read, the list of 96 witnesses to be called for the trial were read, and the judges conditions were stipulated. We (the jurors) were then given a chance to state our case if we could not fulfill our duty as a juror. This was my chance.
We were asked to stand up and present ourselves to the judge. A number of us saw the chance for a way out and made our way to the bench. I was third of 60 people in line hoping for a dismissal. The first guy up said he was related to the accused. “Dismissed,” said the judge. Next. The next guy was a purebread franco and had trouble understanding english. “Dismissed,” said the judge. Next. Well, there I was. Now, this was a very intimidating process. You have to stand in front of a couple of hundred people, a judge, some mobsters, a shitload of lawyers and explain why you shouldn’t be there. I gave a somber face to the judge and said: “Your worship. I understand the importance of my duty as a juror and I respectfully ask that you postpone my obligation until a future date as I have a 15-month old child as a Dependant.” He didn’t even blink when I finished. “Dismissed,” said the judge. Next.
PHEW!
I walked out of the courtroom relieved. This trial would not take away a better part of my life. One day I will fulfill my jury duty obligations, but now is not the time. Good luck to the twelve jurors selected who will have to decide the fate of two mafiosos. Now may be a good time to send the family away on vacation . . . Indefinitely.