Poem: General Prologue to the Tales of the Jury

The letter came in spring time
when the snowdrops caught the breeze,
And bluebells sprung in shady spots
beneath the budding trees.
When parents try to get their children
outside for fresh air
To wean them off of screen-time,
hope their eyes do not stay square.
The letter summoned me
for court attendance in July,
And warned me of the consequence
if I did not reply.
Among my humble peers
my jury service would begin
To serve a civic duty
and assess alleged sin.
It said selection was at random
from the voters' roll.
Without a good exemption
or — within the rules — a hole,
Attendance was required
at the mandatory time
To take my turn determining
those guilty of a crime.
It said that my employer
must consent to grant me leave.
It said expect two weeks
before dismissal I'd receive,
Although it could be longer
if the case was quite complex:
They'd say on my arrival
if my time would need to flex.
I'd get a measly stipend
if my wage I would not earn,
Expenses for my bus fare
if that was a big concern,
But as a civil servant,
walking distance from the court,
Those offers were not needed
for my income to support.
Informing my employer
of my summons to the court,
Excused of all my duties,
let my colleagues hold the fort.
I duly did respond
before the deadline had expired,
Resigned myself to service
on a jury as required.
____
Commencement day arrived
and down toward the court I went
But not the public entrance
the accused and lawyers went:
An alley down the side,
then up some steps behind the bin,
An inconspicuous doorway
where they let the jurors in.
Our bags were x-rayed first
and then were checked for contraband,
We all walked through a portal
so our bodies could be scanned,
A guard checked through our passports
in a most officious style
To check that no imposters
infiltrated any trial.
The crowd of jurors congregated
in a waiting room
No windows and no daylight,
just an artificial gloom
Fluorescent tubes projected
on a carpet tile floor
With steel-framed chairs and tables,
and a dated beige décor.
An ancient, muted telly
mounted high upon the wall
Showed daytime television shows
to entertain us all.
A little serving counter
with no staff that we could see,
The signage offered coffee,
biscuits, crisps and cups of tea.
But as there were no personnel
to sate our appetite,
Or any such diversion
in the artificial light,
We just sat down, arranged ourselves
in random little cliques
In quiet conversation,
talking of the next two weeks.
The doors crashed open
heralding the entrance of a man
In blackened robes like Dracula,
or guard from Azkaban,
Or visitant of Christmas yet to Come,
or other ghost.
It seemed our new assembly
had acquired ourselves a host!
A stocky former policeman,
with the body of a brute,
In black judicial robes
over a double breasted suit.
With thinning silver hair cropped short
above a wrinkled brow
He coughed to get attention,
"May I have some silence, now.
"My name is Harry Bailey,
I'm an usher in the court
My job is to advise you
and to act as an escort,
Deliver your induction
on the day that you arrive,
Explaining how you'll spend your time in court
from nine to five."
"I'll show you round the canteen
where you'll spend most off your day,
Just watching time on jury service
slowly tick away.
I'll call the names when jurors
are shortlisted for a trial,
Among my other duties,"
he continued with a smile.
"Now if you'll follow me
I'll be your tour guide through this place."
He led us through the double doors
and to a waiting space.
"This bench is where you'll wait
to be admitted to the court,
And normally your waiting time in here
is rather short.
"But sometimes we must wait a bit
although we are so near,
The lawyers may discuss some matters
that you shouldn't hear,
Like whether certain evidence
is fit to be reviewed:
Through legal technicallities
some things they may exclude.
"Now welcome to the court room
where the trial will occur
From here you'll hear the evidence
on which you will confer.
A desk for both the lawyers
where their case they will reveal
Sit forward of the judge's bench
beneath the royal seal.
"The dock where our accused will watch
as we decide their fate
Sits opposite the judges bench,
behind a safety gate.
(Defendants sometimes used to try
from custody to flee
Until we wrapped the dock in glass
to stop them getting free.)
"The witness stand against the wall
where visitors relate
Delivering their evidence
so you appreciate
The circumstances of the case
to help you figure out
The facts: if they are proven
beyond reasonable doubt.
"The desk beside the stand
is for the members of the press
Who sometimes do report
on how our cases do progress.
They won't take any photos,
you won't be identified
For I protect you all
from interference from outside.
"Beyond the press,
those seats make up the public gallery
The fam'ly members of the victims
sometimes come to see
Or our defendants friends may come
to offer their support
Or sometimes nosey citizens
just come to watch for sport.
"And this space is the jury box,
within which we do stand
It's where you'll hear the narrative
the lawyers both have planned
The prosecution's claim
and our defendant's best denial.
And should you be selected
this is where you'll watch the trial.
"Before the trial starts
and the evidence is heard
I'll swear you in as jurors,
unto God you'll give your word,
You'll promise to be honest
and to give your verdict true,
Fulfil your civic duty
and to see the trial through.
"So this concludes our tour
and to the canteen you'll retreat
To have some tea or coffee
or to snack on something sweet,
But please don't leave the building,
please just hold on for a while:
We'll draw names from a hat
assigning jurors to a trial."
____
We waited in the canteen eagerly
to learn our fate,
To learn what sort of trial
our perusal did await.
While some took part in small-talk,
some read news upon their phone,
Some others brought a paperback
to sit and read alone.
The smokers went outside
to have a cheeky cigarette,
While others gazed upon
the muted television set.
The counter serving tea was open:
I picked up a drink,
And sat down on my own,
enjoying space and time to think.
Some forty minutes ticked away
without receiving word
Of how we'd be deployed
among the trials being heard.
The jurors grew impatient,
some did grumble discontent,
And one young lady seemed to be
the focus of dissent.
"We're left out here like mugs",
she said to us, her retinue.
"I should be making content
for my followers to view.
My channel will decline
unless I frequently present
New footage of my lifestyle
for my fans to compliment.
"I'm going to find that usher,
educate him of my worth:
The biggest lifestyle vlogger
that has been on planet Earth!"
The jurors gave no feedback,
although some did roll their eyes,
Apparently nobody felt
the need to sympathise.
We sat in awkward silence,
no-one gave encouragement,
While she sought out the usher
to put forth her argument,
But as she neared the double doors,
our host did reappear,
And with his stern demeanour
made her boldness disappear.
"If you will all be seated, please,"
our solemn host pronounced,
"And listen while your allocations
duly are announced.
The jury to be summoned first
to courtroom number three
Will hear the evidence
around a case of burglary.
"So please be still:
the allocated jurors I will call
And if you hear your name
please line up here, against the wall."
He looked down at his clipboard
using reading specs to see
He ran his finger down the list
and started his decree:
"Our juror number one
is Mr Jeffrey Wozniak."
A greying man ascended
from his chair right at the back.
He moved towards the usher
with a noticeable sigh
With slip-on loafers, chinos,
crimson blazer and a tie.
"And juror number two
is Mrs Sandra Smith-McColl."
A short and sturdy woman stood
and walked towards the wall,
With spiky auburn hair,
her glasses leashed around her neck.
She dressed in vibrant colours,
floral pink and gingham check.
"And Miss Jemima Jones
will be our juror number three."
The female who before
did try to start a mutiny,
Got up and paused,
ensuring that her discontent did show
"I shouldn't really be here,
I have things to do, you know."
"Unless the judge agrees,
and you are somehow found exempt,
He'll have you in the cells
awaiting charges of contempt."
The usher gave his warning
- juror three he did subdue:
She took up her position
next to juror number two.
"Now Mr Albert Semple
is our Juror number four."
So I was due to find
just what this trial held in store.
I stood up from my station,
walking past the TV screen,
And joined the other three
along the wall of the canteen.
"And juror number five
is Mrs Betty Thackery"
A lady in a wheelchair
took position next to me.
"Our juror number six
is Mr Ranveer Kohli-Singh"
A handsome, turbaned Asian
with the stature of a king.
"And juror number seven, please,
is Mr Gareth Howell."
A juvenile in leisurewear
did join us with a scowl.
"A Ms Fiona Ellington
is juror number eight."
A thin but lofty woman
joined us with a striding gait.
"And Billy Smith will join us
as our juror number nine"
A hard-to-gender person
took their place within the line.
"Now Mr Steven Lowe
will be our juror number ten."
A youngish man with glasses
brought a notebook and a pen.
"Eleventh place is taken
by a Miss Joanne O'Dowd."
A mousy, younger female stood
and joined our growing crowd.
"Professor Edith Jones
will be our Juror number twelve"
A striking fair haired woman
like a J R Tolkien elf.
"So now we have a jury.
If you'll kindly follow me,
I'll brief you on the trial
that you're all about to see."
So through the double doors,
into a room, he led us all.
A giant central table
with twelve chairs around the wall.
And once we were all in,
he coughed and solemnly did state,
"Before the show commences,
there are some facts we must relate.
We must ensure there is
no prior knowledge of the case:
No pre-existing tie-ins
to the people or the place."
Referring to his clipboard
(with his finger, once again)
He read the details of the case:
the who; the where; the when;
Address at which it happened;
and the name of the accused.
With any prior knowledge,
we could find ourselves excused.
But no-one had connections
to the matters of the crime,
So no-one was relieved
of jury service at that time.
"To set your expectation,
we expect the trial to need
A week within the courtroom,
if the lawyers work at speed.
"But please do heed my warning,
as we often face delays,
The case can be be impeded
in a hundred different ways,
And jurors are not needed
for those technicalities,
So while they are resolved
we are released to rest at ease.
"And as a consequence,
there's ample leisure time to share
Just sitting in the canteen,
or the waiting bench out there.
So I propose a challenge,
please indulge me my request:
I think that we should set ourselves
a storytelling test.
"A contest, if you'd rather,
that will help us pass the time.
We each will tell a narrative,
could be in prose or rhyme,
Perhaps a work of fiction,
or perhaps a story true,
A tale of other characters,
or story starring you.
"And I shall do the judging
once the stories are all done,
Assessing the most pleasing,
or most entertaining one.
The prize: I do propose
that on our final jury day,
We'll order in a luncheon
and the winner need not pay.
"A storytelling challenge,
where our tales we will present!
So people of the jury,
please give me your consent,
And if you will participate
in our amusing game
Please raise your hand to indicate
(or hold it down in shame)."
Then over half the jurors
raised their hands up to agree,
There were some cagey stragglers,
who waited just to see
Consensus of the rest
before they would participate,
But they did raise their hands up,
even if a little late.
The last of the abstainers
was the sporty juvenile.
Eleven pairs of eyes stared on
in judgment for a while.
He felt coercion from his peers
that caused him to relent:
Reluctantly he raised his hand
and gave us his consent.
____

by Albert Semple
424 lines over 53 stanzas.