By Steven Reis
District Attorney in Matagorda County
One hundred faces
Stare blankly at the clerk.
She speaks instruction
And begins her work.
First and last names,
One-by-one, read aloud.
Occasional hands raised
And “Present,” from the crowd.
Filing in, they pass the clerk,
Sitting stiffly on her stool.
They’ve not stood like this in line
Since past days in pre-school.
Finally, seated on benches,
Crowded shoulder to shoulder;
Volume slowly increases
As the jurors become bolder.
Then, shushed by the clerk,
They’re told, “Rise to your feet!”
A black-robed man enters,
Climbing a high-perched seat.
Others, lawyers perhaps,
Quietly file to their places.
It’s their turn now
To stare at gathered faces.
*****
The lawyers walked in with their heads a-swivel;
Permitted by the judge they spouted drivel;
Thinking opponents would begin to snivel;
But none was quite so frail.
The jury of 12 sat in seats confused
By legal jargon which the lawyers suffused.
The judge rolled his eyes as he was bemused.
He knew what the case would entail.
Standing in a row, each one to be sworn,
A group, heads bowed down, looking quite forlorn.
“Obey the court rules,” the surly judge warned,
“Or I’ll send you all to jail.”
They all took the stand and began to speak.
For days they talked—then talked for a week.
Anxious jurors caused their seats to creak;
Their minds were soon derailed.
Like ballet dancers, lawyers pranced the room.
Cold, clammy air gave the feel of a tomb.
Nothing said or done could dispel the gloom.
Each side sought to prevail.
Hours stretched to days and weeks and months and years
Or so it felt to the jury of peers.
Finally they finished—full up to their ears.
Shell-shocked, they all felt frail.
*****
“It’s done,” said the judge,
“Your job now completed.”
But then he looked down,
Looked up, said, “Be seated.”
“What’s this mean?” he asked,
Rubbing hands to his face.
“You can’t write this down—
You need to erase.”
He motioned the bailiff
To come to his side.
Then the lawyers he called;
Letting each one confide.
He showed them the note,
Sent out by the jury.
His face got redder
As he stifled his fury.
He looked at the 12
Sitting primly and still.
Knowing now he could not
Bend them sharp to his will.
He stood, stared, and left;
His robes flapping a breeze.
Out a side door he strode
Abandoning ease.
The paper, abandoned,
Lay where it was dropped.
Lawyers left in a huff—
Not a pause, not a stop.
The jury left also—
No reason to stay.
They smiled, walking out,
Having had their say.
*****
There once was a jury quite puzzled
Weeks later, they were quite bumfuzzled
They wrote on their paper, “The public is safer
If lawyers and judges are muzzled.”