In the United States, it now generally refers to the process by which prospective jurors are questioned about their backgrounds and potential biases before being chosen to sit on a jury. It also refers to the process by which expert witnesses are questioned about their backgrounds and qualifications, in order to potentially give an expert opinion in court testimony. As defined by Gordon P. Cleary: "Voir Dire is the process by which attorneys select, or perhaps more appropriately reject, certain jurors to hear a case."
I didn't think much about the jury duty experience over the next few weeks. It was strange enough that I was in the same room as a two guys accused of such heinous crimes. I remembered back when they were in the news, in 1989. There had been a couple of news reports about people being shot at and/or killed along Interstate 580 in Oakland, but even though I often took that freeway I never got the sort of fearful feeling one might in a case like Son of Sam or something.
I do recall one report clearly because of the nature of the story. On my way down to Berkeley early one morning the news was dominated by the capture of a young man who had shot at a couple of drivers on I-580 in the wee hours of July 27, 1989. The first guy, Rodney Stokes, had survived having three shots fired at him by ducking down and playing "possum". He then watched as the assailant drove forward and accosted another driver, shooting him fatally. Stokes kept his cool and after contacting the police was able to finger the shooter. The cops had the guy in jail and were questioning him. This action spoke to the altruist in me. I would have done the same thing as Rodney Stokes. That's what I was thinking at the time.
Spin forward four years and now I have seen this man standing before a judge with his accomplice. It made those stories more real. I had seen this accused killer and he really didn't look like a bad guy. I guess that was the point, with the nice clothes, neat haircut and nerdy glasses.
Next Letter
The next correspondence I got from the County was in a regular envelope, sent to me by the prosecutor's office. I was instructed to come to the courthouse on a particular day for voir dire. In this part of the trial preparations, small groups of potential jurors come in and sit in a small room, waiting to be called into the courtroom for individual questioning. There were three or four other people with me and we made small talk, speaking only a little about the particulars of this case. None of us knew that much about it, with one exception. There was fellow, a tall, rather overweight guy who seemed really anxious to get on the jury. He said he had been summoned before but never "made it". It seemed like he considered it a personal affront not to be among the chosen, just the opposite attitude most folks brought to jury duty.
Eventually a bailiff poked his head into the room and said: "Mister Newbegin, please." I followed him through the heavy wooden doors into a now nearly empty courtroom. Only the principal characters were there: The judge, defendants, lawyers, clerk, stenographer and bailiffs. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach much like the one I have before performing or public speaking. I was directed to the jury box and took a seat, a microphone before me.
First to question me was one of the defense attorneys. He asked me about my responses to the questionnaire concerning alcoholism in my family and my views on the jury system. I was forthright in my replies, talking about how alcohol had been tough on our family and that I had a lot of faith in the system, flaws and all. They asked me about my umpire experiences. "I suppose it's pretty tough to put up with the criticism, isn't it?"
I gave them my corny answer: "I call 'em like I see 'em."
Then Mr. Burr rose. I could feel my gut clenching as he walked slowly over to me from his seat. There was a sharpness, calculation in his eyes, and he smiled slightly and said: "Good morning, Mr. Newbegin". I knew I could not be untruthful with this guy. He was going to get the facts, ma'am.
"How did you first hear about this case?"
"I had heard some reports on the radio about a couple of people being shot on the highway. Then I heard about the guy getting caught one morning when one of the people he shot at followed him."
"And what did you think when you heard that report?"
"I guess I was hoping they got the right guy."
"You have heard that this case involves charges of murder in the first degree along with three special circumstances?"
"Yes, sir."
"This is a capital case, Mr. Newbegin. If this defendant is found guilty of the charges and any of those special circumstances are found to be true, he could be sentenced to life in prison without parole or the death penalty. Were you aware of that?"
"Yes, sir."
Burr went on to discuss with me my views on the death penalty. He asked me whether I thought it was a deterrent, talked about California Supreme Court Justice Rose Bird, whose controversial stand on the death penalty had gotten her fired. At the time I supported the death penalty as just another way of punishing people for the most heinous of crimes. This trial was my "put up or shut up" moment.
"What I need you to tell me, then, is this: If that were the case, would you be able to cast a vote to send this defendant to the gas chamber for the crimes he committed?"
I looked at Charles Stevens, who was busy writing something at his seat. Always writing, almost never looking up. I turned my gaze back to Mr. Burr. "Yes, sir, I could."
"Thank you, Mr. Newbegin. No more questions, your Honor."
I got up and headed out of the courtroom. I had no real sense of what would happen after that. Outside, the fat guy was still hanging around in the hallway by the elevators. "Hey, how'd you do?"
"I don't know, I just answered the questions."
"God, I hope they pick me for this one. This is just so cool, huh?"
"Yeah, cool. See ya."
I got in the elevator, went back to my car and returned to the working world. I thought about Burr's question and really had little doubt I could do it. If these terrible things were true, well, he deserved to fry, right? I felt at once a little excited, a bit overwhelmed by the potential experience. I guess I could see why the fat guy was that way. He was just acting out what most of us were thinking.
Furthur: A Jury of His Peers?
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