I Love Jury Duty

Guilty as charged

Each week, a menu of sorts, around a revolving theme. This week: my favorite holiday of the year.

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Course 1

A Word of Gratitude: Pho Bowls & Summer Rolls

As you will see below, I love jury duty.

There’s something about it that feels like a field trip, like a day exploring a completely different world.

Two weeks ago, I had my annual call into the courthouse here in Baltimore. For me, that means a bike ride across the city in the spring, over and through Patterson Park, past the bocce courts in Little Italy, down the bike path through Inner Harbor, and up a hill in downtown to the solitary bike rack in front of the courthouse doors.

This year, it was a rainy morning, but it was light enough that a good rain jacket and Gore-Tex shoes took care of the problem. It felt invigorating.

For most people, their favorite part of the day is getting dismissed from jury duty. The second favorite part of their day is getting the $20 in cash upon check-in. Except for my friend Tim, who is so disgustingly pure at heart that he turns it down because he “doesn’t need it.” Me? That’s my annual tax return from the city of Baltimore.

The bad news is that your $20 will go straight to a parking garage if you drove to the courthouse. But if you bike– that’s a free lunch.

I’d like to tell you that I enjoy exploring the area for the best food options, which may have been true at one point. But for me, there’s only one place– Mekong Delta.

Sitting in the back corner of a dingy, half functioning and half lit food court in an oddly shaped strip mall in downtown Baltimore, is a Vietnamese gem. Without fail, Leo, the owner who perpetually looks 25 years old, will be waiting at the counter to take your order. He’s been running the operation since the restaurant first operated in a row home just a few blocks away.

When I first moved to Baltimore almost 15 years ago, Mekong Delta was our go-to restaurant for a night out. If a restaurant ever deserved the title of “intimate” it was this one, with only a half dozen tables in the front half of the house, and the kitchen in the back half, It was a top to bottom family operation– Leo took orders, his mother and father cooked in the kitchen, his wife expedited orders, and the kids bussed the tables. Birthday cards and preschool drawings hung on the walls. They lived upstairs.

It’s hard for me to describe how special Mekong Delta restaurant was when it was run out of that house. It felt like you were home, because you were, just not your own. All the smells of the kitchen were literally in the living room. Large, steaming bowls of pho, perfectly packed summer rolls with shrimp and pork, pillowy piles of fried rice with chunks of lump crab. It was BYOB, so a couple bottles of Yellow Tail worked out just fine for our broke selves.

All good things must move on, so as their business grew, they decided to leave for their current location in the Charles Center food court. The charm of the original restaurant was completely gone, the setting now relegated to tile floors and fluorescent lighting. But the food remained.

And so, when I go there on a rainy day in March for jury duty, it feels like the world is right. I order a beef pho, piled high with meats and noodles and onion in a broth that could bring a starved castaway back to life with a single spoonful. I mix in the chile sauce, tear up the basil, and eat as fast as I can, because the bowl is as big as my head and I have to be back at jury duty at 1:00. Also, I have to finish my shrimp summer rolls with peanut sauce, the best ones I’ve ever had and it’s not even close.

My belly full and body warm, I head back to the courthouse to hear my fate.

I’m already guilty– of having the best lunch in Baltimore and spending $20 the best way I know how.

And for that, I am grateful.

Course 2

The Main: Quiet Room Coffee

In Baltimore, there are five seasons: spring, summer, fall, winter, and jury duty. Spring and fall last a total of one day each, while jury duty can last anywhere from one day to one week (though it feels like one year), making it the third longest season of the year.

It’s also my favorite season.

My whole life, I heard about how awful it was to have jury duty. Like a monsoon swooping in to ruin your summer vacation, jury duty was to be avoided at all costs. Tell them you’re racist, wear a Cannibal Corpse concert tee, cosplay Che Guevara, go full MAGA, get Covid on purpose– anything short of placing a timed explosive under a judge’s bench seemed to be fair grounds for getting out of your civic duty as a juror. For the half of my adult life, this didn’t concern me. Until I moved to Baltimore at age 30, I held an address in rural Pennsylvania and don’t recall anyone in my family ever getting a jury summons. Which means there are probably multiple bench warrants out for our arrests, but let’s skip ahead.

For the first few years of living in Baltimore, I never got a jury summons. And then the first one came. Pandora’s box was opened, never to be closed again. It’s common knowledge that once you’re in that whirlpool, you’re never getting out.

When I got my first jury summons, I was elated. At the time, I worked as a contractor at the Coast Guard which meant that I was able to still get paid for work, while going to jury duty. To me, this was no different than a paid vacation. My plate wasn’t exactly full on the work side of things, so I could afford to take a field trip to observe the inner workings of the judicial branch of city government.

I live exactly a 5K distance away from the Elijah Cummings Courthouse in downtown Baltimore. While I have driven to jury duty once, it’s something I try to avoid at all costs. I’ve run commuted to the courthouse once, but most years I just bike there. It’s a nice way to get the day started. Also, a bike water bottle is a good place to hide your pocketknife when you realize you accidentally brought it to the courthouse (spoken from experience).

In Baltimore City, jurors are paid $20 cash for each day of service (as opposed to $30/day in Baltimore County); this does not include parking validation, another reason I choose to bike to jury duty. The cold cash part is the highlight of the day, because it means I can take a guilt-free lunch. Every time the clerk hands over those two weathered tens, I feel like I just got my allowance and need to spend it immediately on Upper Deck baseball cards.

After checking in, the seasoned juror knows to head straight for the quiet room upstairs. I can’t explain why I love this room, but I think it’s because it feels like a library carrel within a courthouse. There’s nothing really special about it. It’s a large room with plenty of tables and outlets and also weird little window alcoves with benches where you could manage a nap if you really wanted to. Get there early and you have your choice of seat; wait til they announce that there’s a quiet room and it fills up quickly. You’re allowed to bring your laptop, food and drinks, so you can kind of settle in nicely. You should also bring a jacket or a swimsuit, because the temperature in the courthouse is always somewhere between “ice fishing on Lake Superior” and “sitting on the stoop of hell’s front door.”

Since I do live in Smaltimore, the next hour is spent playing “where do I know that person from,” because they probably worked at Sound Garden a decade ago or I sat next to them at an Orioles game last week.

Eventually, jury assembly gets underway and they start calling out blocks of numbers to various courtrooms. I’ve had days where I get called right away, other days when I work on my computer until they let you go after lunch.

Most likely you’ll usually head to a courtroom for voir dire, or official jury selection. And that’s when the real fun begins.

The first time I participated in voir dire, I walked into the largest courtroom in the courthouse, finished in all-white Italian marble. It felt like I was on an episode of Law & Order, which was ironic because those two things are the rarest Pokémon in Baltimore. When I first walked in, I saw some lawyers dressed in suits and ties at the tables in front of the judge. With them were five teenagers dressed nicely as well. I assumed they were there for a high school career day or something, to shadow the lawyers or see how the court process worked. I could hear their voices, see their youth, right in front of me.

At the time, I had no idea how the judicial system worked, at least in terms of the trial procedures. So I didn’t realize the five teens in front of me were actually twentysomethings on trial for the murder of a 1-year-old, who was shot and killed after two bullets ripped through his little legs while they targeted the infant’s father as they both sat in a car in South Baltimore. While I had known about this case prior, I’ll never forget the gasp that went through the courtroom when the judge announced the crime for which we were all there for.

That was my first jury selection for a murder trial in Baltimore, one of four murder trials for which I’ve been in the pool. In a city that until recently saw over 300 murders a year, there are a lot of killers to convict. That first pool in which I found myself was dismissed wholly; it eventually took weeks to select a jury who would later find them guilty, resulting in life convictions for three of the defendants. The infant’s father refused to testify in the trial after initially agreeing to be a witness and taking the stand. It didn’t spare him– he he was gunned down a short time after. That time, he didn’t survive.

To find a jury is a complicated process, and to be a juror on a murder trial in Baltimore, you almost can’t be from Baltimore. Despite the whole “jury of your peers” thing, anyone on trial for murder will rarely get a jury of their peers. Because their peers will be eliminated far before the final selection.

As with any trial, the presiding judge will rattle off a series of questions to make a determination on who should be eliminated from the get-go due to conflicts of interests, personal biases, personal hardships, etc. Things like: Do you know the defendant or any of the witnesses in this case? A handful of people stand up. Have you ever personally been affected by gun violence? Half the room stands up. Do you feel the testimony of a police officer holds more or less weight because they’re a police officer? Again, half the room. Are you familiar with the area the murder took place in? Do you or any of your immediate family work in law enforcement?

Fun fact: If you have a scheduled vacation within the week of the trial, that’s a hardship– you are granted an exemption. But if you’re a single mom with four kids working a job with no paid time off, that’s not a hardship– no exemption.

Eventually, the pool is whittled down from a couple hundred jurors to around 50. From there, the jurors proceed to line up in front of the prosecution and the defense. Approvals are given or strikes are made, and eventually the jury box is filled. It all feels a bit like picking teams at recess, and I’d be lying if it didn’t hurt a little bit inside when the prosecution inevitably dismisses me.

Even after it’s filled, it can still get reshuffled, as a number of strikes are given to the defense. While strikes are not to be given based on race or gender, I can almost guarantee you that they are. Because almost any trial in Baltimore will end up looking pretty similar to the demographics of the city, which is 60% Black, 27% White, and 8% Latino.

Generally speaking, this is who will be deciding your fate when you’re on trial for murder: six Black men and women of mixed ages, at least one of which looks like a city bus driver, one who works third shift at the Amazon warehouse out on Holabird, and another who will tell you every morning “it’s too early for this shit.” One or two White males, one who will either look like an accountant or a full-time bartender at Ottobar. One or two White women with strong barista or social worker vibes who may or may not be wearing a mask in 2025. One Latina woman who looks lost, and one Asian as an alternate juror. (Literally, last week, a chosen juror almost derailed the entire pool because she started talking in the juror box, telling other jurors she had no idea what she was doing there, prompting the judge to slam the gavel and tell them all to shut up. She was immediately dismissed once the judge discovered she really had no clue why she was there or what she was doing.)

Eventually, the jury is selected and the trial begins.

This is also where I’ll end, but will pick up again next week when I tell you the story of how I convicted a man of murder and sent him to life in prison.

But I truly do love jury duty. Aside from the walk between the Delta Airlines and Spirit Airlines terminals, it really is the one place in the world that brings everyone together– rich and poor, Black and White, old and young. It’s also interesting to see how this system of justice actually works and how it has stood the test of time for over two hundred years in this country. That being said, it’s a bit disconcerting when you look around and assess the quality of humans on a jury who are responsible for a verdict of life or death.

Before I had jury duty, before I testified in a criminal case where a police officer slit a neighbor’s dog’s throat with a knife, and before I served on a murder trial in Baltimore city, I had a good deal of faith in the judicial system. If I were ever in front of a jury, unjustly accused of a crime, surely this system would consider my case in whole– the blindfold of Lady Justice incarnate, the scales of evidence and argument equally weighed and the outcome just. I now see it for what it is– a fragile scaffolding that is subject to a litany of influences, prejudices, whole incompetence, false witness, procedural delays, and deep pockets or the lack thereof.

And yet, it’s somehow the best justice system in the world.

Which is why I love jury duty. Rarely do you get to go into the halls of government and see how things work, in real life. This is one of those times. On top of that, if you get picked, you get to go even deeper into another story, a choose-your-own-adventure novel where you get to turn the page.

Now, if only I could retire and volunteer as a full-time juror. By that time I’ll probably be blind, so justice will be served without prejudice, the scales of law and order fully balanced, and the city of Baltimore secure for all.

My bike rack wasn’t installed yet

Course 3

Dessert: A Repast of the Past Week

Okay, so I know I missed a week last week, so apologies. I had the aforementioned jury duty on Monday, I came down with an awful cold on Tuesday that lasted a few days, then I had my kids alone for the weekend as my wife took a much deserved break to see her best friend in North Carolina. It was actually pretty great, in all. We had a bunch of baseball practices, but also went on an nice hike, grilled out, and ended Saturday night watching The Sandlot. Did not get to run much, as you can imagine.

My buddy Matt had an extra ticket for the Orioles’ Opening Day this week, and man, it was unbelievable. The weather was a perfect 78 degrees and sunny, the beers were cold, the crowd was into it, and the Orioles came away with a win. Rode my bike both ways and took the long way to admire the flowering trees and the beauty of the city in spring. Just truly one of the best things to experience in life, it’s hard to beat.

And now, I’m off to Spain for six days for my brother’s wedding. Luckily it’s in a beautiful part of the country on the southern coast, so I’m looking forward to exploring and running around and doing some cool stuff while we’re there. First time traveling internationally as a whole family, so it should be a grand adventure.

Other things I wrote or edited this week:

• Baseball’s Torpedo Bats Are High Controversy, But Running Did It First // Look, it’s the start of the baseball season, so I found a way to connect the controversial torpedo bats with carbon plated running shoes and wrote about it

• Bandit Enters a New Orbit With Its Asics Novablast 5 Collab // Look at the space odyssey marketing and branding behind Bandit’s first-ever collab running shoe

I also contribute to The Drop, a weekly email from Believe in the Run, where I round up running news and stories in a generally sarcastic (and sometimes heartfelt) manner. You can subscribe here.

I’m also the co-host of The Drop running podcast, one of the top running podcasts in the country, where we mostly talk about things other than running that thousands of people seem to find entertaining. You can listen to this week’s episode here.

Last week, I got to interview CJ Albertson, Brooks elite athlete and the most consistently great American marathoner, with top-10 finishes at the Boston Marathon, New York City Marathon, Chicago Marathon, and Olympic Trials. And that was just last year. You can listen to that episode here.

Ingredients List

🎥 : Okay, I know Instagram is the devil and I’m like “quit Zynstagram” and kill your phone and all, but… I’m still guilty of checking in from time to time. And every time I do, my favorite thing to see is this dude @ariatinsta who is bringing pure beauty to the world. Basically, he walks around NYC with a keyboard and sampling/recording setup and asks people if they want to jump on the mic and rap/sing/whatever. And the absolute mind-blowing talent that is just walking around on those sidewalks is something to behold. It’s truly just a joy to watch, it feels like this is what music actually should be, because it is.

🎵 : Been really loving the new Japanese Breakfast album “For Melancholy Brunettes (&sad women)”. Very chill, just a good spring album. Honey Water is my favorite track, fwiw.

Here’s the rest of the music I’ve been listening to these past couple weeks, including this unbelievable track by Fleet Foxes and Noah Cyrus.

END OF MENU

Thank you for dining with me this evening, I hope the service was acceptable. Tips (whether monetary or recommendations to others) are appreciated, but not expected.

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