COURTROOM DRAMA

Last week a judge friend of mine celebrated his upcoming retirement in the district courtroom at our local courthouse.

"Gee!" I told the judge. "I don't think I've been in this courtroom since I was called for jury duty in the Bobby Gene Parker trial (name changed to protect the guilty.)

Bobby Gene had (allegedly, of course) whipped up on his wife and shot down two officers who had reported to a domestic dispute call. Fortunately, all the victims survived, but Bobby Gene was still in a world of trouble.

I first heard about the case when a well-known TV news reporter from the city accidentally called my home phone number, which is similar to the local newspaper's.

"Have you heard about the shooting in town?" he asked.

"Where?"

When he told me the address, I about flipped. "Why, that's just four blocks from here!"

Now, I wasn't about to go ambulance chasing, but I did call the neighbors to make sure their kids weren't out on their bikes after school. A helicopter was soon chopping overhead, and our town was the top story on the evening news. Long story short, Bobby Gene surrendered his angry ass when the house was surrounded by every sheriff's officer and highway patrolman within a 50-mile radius, so it seemed. Oh, it was the talk of the town for weeks.

Fast forward to the trial. I was one of a gazillion people in the county summoned for jury duty. Actually, as I recall 100 people were there on the first day--standing room only in the hallway and quite the social affair. We eventually were ushered into the courtroom to take a multi-page questionnaire, mainly about domestic abuse, firearms, and the legal system. I was all too happy to fill it out because I love to write and be opinionated and there were some open-ended questions. By the time I finished, every line and margin was filled--an essay of epic proportions--so I was quite proud of myself.

My goal was to be dismissed ASAP and get back to school, but we had to sit around and wait for the lawyers to look over the questionnaires, which went well into the afternoon. We were finally called back to the courtroom, and in groups of 10 we were instructed what to do. Many were immediately dismissed, others told to stay for Round Two, and my group was called back to the judge's office. Well, crap. What was that about? Was I going to get yelled at for writing so much?

"The judge has a few more questions for you," his secretary told us. So, individually, we were escorted into his chamber for the inquisition.

When it came my turn, I was surprised to see not only the judge but also lots of other men, including the prosecuting attorney, the defense attorney, some deputy sherrifs, and--dum, de, dum, dum--Bobby Gene himself--cuffed and looking none too happy to be there, just like me.

"We have a few questions to ask you about your responses," the kindly judge said.

The main drift of their interrogation was why I was so certain that Bobby Gene was guilty as charged, especially since I wasn't an eyewitness. I don't recall how many times I'd written in the questionnaire that I thought he was guilty, but it was enough to get my point across that I had no doubt and could not serve on his jury with an open mind.

"Well, I've seen the TV news reports, read the newspaper accounts, and talked to neighbors who saw Mr. Parker get arrested. Who else could have done it?"

More questions. More responses that were questions back to them. "Well, if he didn't do it, then who did? Who else was in that house?"

Finally, they'd heard enough. I was dismissed from the list of prospective jurors and was free to go on my merry way, unlike someone else sitting in the room.

A few days later I had a chance encounter with one of my former students, a sheriff's deputy, who laughingly told me what a great job I'd done in the judge's chamber.

"I didn't see you there," I told him.

"Oh, I was in the judge's restroom listening to the whole thing. You didn't back down like most of the people they questioned."

"Well, they were the smart ones who knew better to keep their flapping mouths shut. Bobby Gene was probably scrawling out notes with his handcuffs about that smart ass who thought he was guilty."

An unbiased jury WAS finally seated and, lo and behold, Bobby Gene was found guilty by those people, too. I don't know if he's still in prison or not. This all happened more than 10 years ago. Heck, maybe 15. Time goes by so fast when you're not behind bars. But I didn't see him lurking around at the judge's retirement reception last week, so that's a good sign.

Dec. 24 addendum: Well, I checked the Kansas Department of Corrections website, and Bobby Gene isn't up for parole until 2037, so I think I'm safe a while longer.