The jury is out

Just before last year ended, I got a notice in the mail that I'd managed to avoid for years: a summons to report for jury duty.

Two thoughts immediately collided in my head.

On one hand, if it were me on trial, I would hope to draw a jury that wanted to be there, doing their civic duty and rising to their responsibility as citizens. And I'd definitely want someone like myself in the box. Smart, a critical thinker, an objective listener, an educated individual, someone with a solid moral compass plus good looking and a wicked sense of humor.

Oh yeah, and humble. The complete package.

The other thought was this is going to be a monumental inconvenience and I haven't got the time.

Which is just wrong thinking if you think about it.

Jury duty is the best people watching around. It's a insider's view of the justice system. It also explains why so many verdicts are as controversial and wrong as they are. There are more people than you'd like to think in the jury pool who can't understand basic directions on how to get in line, much less the complicated nuances of a trial.

On one hand it's encouraging to see people show up and ready to serve. On the other hand it's depressing because all I could do for the day I was there was think about how I wouldn't want most of these nitwits deciding my fate.

Last time I had jury duty, years ago, I got as far as the box in the courtroom. The lawyers on the case were asking the jurors questions to decide whether we would be helpful to their case or not. I was asked if I had any relatives in law enforcement, and I let them know my brother-in-law at the time was an Orange County sheriff reserve officer.

"Thank you Juror #9, you're dismissed."

This last visit was to the new courthouse in downtown Long Beach. The juror waiting room was pleasant, comfortable, had vending machines and workstations. The lobby had a Subway and a Mexican food place. For all intents and purposes it could've been the customer waiting lounge in the Lexus service department.

In the late afternoon, the judge called us all into her courtroom, explained that she'd hoped to select a jury but because of day-long proceedings didn't have enough time left. So we were all dismissed.

In a strange way, like a ride you don't want to get on but do and then enjoy, I found myself wanting to do it again. And if I do, this is the way I hope it goes:

Trial run

If there's no objection, in my opening remarks I'd like to tell you about a funny thing that happened last week.

A close friend of mine who lives on the east coast got in touch with me because he was looking for a referral to a lawyer out here to handle some business for him. Then, coincidentally, I also wound up recommending another friend to a different lawyer because he was in a situation where I thought a little legal advice would help.

Now I know what you're thinking: "Why does Jeff know so many lawyers? Is he in that much trouble? Is it a Jew thing?" The answers are because, no and maybe.

Here's the deal. When push comes to shove in certain situations, the evidence has shown it's sometimes best to have a knowledgable, take-no-prisoners legal representative in your corner.

It's no secret there's a lot of negativity and jokes about lawyers. But those are usually about the ambulance chasers and bottom feeders. My attorneys, all of them, have been stellar in representing my best interests when I've needed them to. I have nothing but gratitude and appreciation for the lawyers I work with.

And they have nothing but gratitude and appreciation for my retainer fees.

Capitalism, amIright?

My wife thinks I should go to law school and become a lawyer, because I'm quick on my feet and like the idea of standing up for justice. Actually she thinks I should do it because I'm confrontational, don't suffer fools lightly and won't sign out a library book without checking with my attorney. But for argument's sake, let's go with the justice thing.

If you find yourself in need of a lawyer—and everyone does eventually—and don't have one, give me a call. I'm pretty sure I can make the introduction.

Estate lawyer? Check. Employment and business attorney? Of course. Personal injury representation? Do you have to ask? Real estate attorney? I'll land one for you. Bankruptcy lawyer? My high school best friend is one of the top ones in the city. If I ever have to read up to Chapter 11, I know who to call.

In closing, if it please the readers (snickering....readers...good one), let me conclude by saying it's always best to settle disagreements without taking the dispute to the next level. But if you absolutely have to, it's reassuring to know I'm here to help you find an advocate, advisor and counselor who'll be looking out for your best interest.

And forty percent of your settlement.

Blog adjourned.

You're out of order

The blog is now in session. Continuing my week of reposts, here's a courtroom classic from July 7, 2010.

Today I had my day in court. Well, actually more like my five minutes.

Without going into a lot of detail, because, my lawyer has advised me not to on here, I was sued in Small Claims court. Somebody felt I lied to them about something, then made a decision to do something that cost them money. And because they felt I lied - which I didn't - they felt I should pay for what they decided to do.

Vague enough? Then I'll continue.

If you've never seen Small Claims court in action, I'd highly recommend it. It's right up there with Disneyland and Las Vegas both in terms of people-watching and entertainment value.

First the bailiff runs down some basic rules: address all comments to the bench. No talking while court's in session. Turn off your cellphones. Don't raise your voice. Don't make a grab for my gun then go on a wild shooting rampage (alright I made that one up).

Then the court clerk, who sits in a little pen with an outdated computer right in front of the judge, has everyone in the room stand, raise their right hand and take an oath swearing to tell the truth.

Just like on Law & Order, except your hand's not on a bible.

My case wasn't being heard until 10:30a.m., but I arrived at the courtroom at 8:30. Maybe it's because I'm in advertising and have done so many presentations, I wanted to get a feel for the room I was going to be playing to. I wanted to see how it all worked. I wanted to see if I was getting a hanging judge or Judge Ito.

The funny thing is I didn't get a judge at all.

In Small Claims, you get a judge pro tem, not a regular judge but a lawyer volunteering to act as judge since there are so many cases the real judges can't hear them all. If you're okay with that, which I was, you sign a document giving your consent. If you insist on a real judge, they'll insist on rescheduling you for another day. Then there you are - all dressed up and no place to plead.

Since Small Claims is for complaints $5,000 and under ($7,500 if it's not a business), many of them were landlords/property management companies suing for back rent. And winning.

In Small Claims, like so much of life, you're on your own. You're not allowed to have a lawyer represent you (although you can have one if you lose and appeal the decision). However you can do what I did which is have your lawyer prepare a trial brief arguing the case and citing legal cases and precedent on why the judge should rule in your favor. For the amount I was being sued for, $775, having my lawyer write a trial brief seemed a little like rabbit hunting with an elephant gun. But my feeling was I'd rather be over prepared than under.

I mentioned all dressed up before because that's what my lawyer told me to do: dress slacks, nice shirt (tie optional). It shows respect to the court, and while it shouldn't affect the judges decision, how I look could definitely affect his attitude towards me. He also said I'd be shocked at what people wore to court, and he wasn't kidding.

I can't tell who I enjoyed more - the greasy, strung out forty-five year old with the Led Zepplin t-shirt, torn jean shorts and flip-flops, or his crack-friendly wife who was literally, having minor grand mal seizures (or withdrawal) about every fifteen minutes.

Then there was Mr. Ralph Lauren: deck shoes, khaki cargo shorts, polo shirt and windbreaker. Every two minutes he kept looking at his TAGHeuer watch. Apparently the yacht was double parked.

I should mention prior to today's court date, the party suing me and I worked out a fragile peace. In fact I was told the case would be dropped and not to even bother showing up. My reply was that I'd need something a little more concrete than that - say a document from the court showing the case was withdrawn. I never got it. So I showed.

The person suing me did not. I guess that was his way of dropping the case because since he didn't show it was dismissed.

After the ruling, the judge made a point of complimenting me on the trial brief, saying he didn't know many lawyers who could prepare one as thorough and well written as mine.

I think he thought I was the one who did it, and I let him think that. It's not like anyone was under oath.

Oh, wait a minute.

I rest my case

It's not easy to read, so I'll tell you what it says: not guilty.

I love it when things work out.

You'll recall back in January, I posted about the fact that I went out and treated myself to a nice new speeding ticket since I hadn't had one in awhile. In that post I mentioned I was going to wish it out to the cornfield by taking traffic school.

That was until I found out the fine was $360. Then I posted about how I was going to stand up to the system, fight the man and take my battle to the courtroom - figuratively speaking.

Just to refresh your memory, I fought the ticket using a little known loophole called Trial By Declaration. Basically you write your side of the story, submit it to the court, then they wait for the officer to write his side and submit it (which they usually don't do, because unlike appearing to fight you in court, they don't get paid extra for the additional paperwork - that comes out of their time). The other thing about it is that if the decision doesn't go your way, you have twenty days after receiving it to request a court appearance where you can ask for traffic school.

In my country, we call that a win-win.

So yesterday, I got this verdict in the mail from the court. Oh, did I mention not guilty?

Today, I drive as a vindicated man, knowing that wherever that officer who gave the citation is, the shoe is finally on the other foot.

Of course my shoe still has lead in it. But we'll keep that between ourselves.

ADDENDUM: There seems to be some confusion about whether I was actually not guilty, or got off on a loophole. The Trial By Declaration is not a loophole (probably shouldn't have used that word to describe it), but a lesser known and not at all publicized way of fighting a traffic ticket. According to the Basic California Speed law, which states "No person shall drive a vehicle upon a highway at a speed greater than is reasonable or prudent having due regard for weather, visibility, the traffic on, and the surface and width of, the highway, and in no event at a speed which endangers the safety of persons or property." I was not guilty by the states own definition. Don't think less of me just because I played by their rules. There are plenty of better reasons to think less of me.

School's out

So remember my post about getting a speeding ticket? In it, I said it was my comeuppance for all the times I was speeding and didn't get caught. I was going to pay the fine and go traffic school and that would be it.

That was before I got a letter from the court saying the fine was $360 - before the additional traffic school fees. For those of you keeping count, that's $22.50 for every mile over (you do the math).

There's paying the ticket then there's surrendering to state-sponsored extortion in the form of outrageously exorbitant traffic fines for only 16mph over the speed limit (there, I did the math for you).

After getting the letter, I immediately went online to see how I could fight the ticket. What I found was no shortage of websites specializing in helping beat the ticket. These sites, like the dog-walking companies I've posted about, have names that try a little too hard to convey exactly what it is they do.

The problem with almost all of them is that they charge more than the fine to make the ticket go away. And there's no actual guarantee they'll be able to do it.

But after a little further research, I found what I was looking for. And I found it, of all places, in a forum on the Southern California Subaru Impreza Club site.

Buried deep in the small print on the back of the citation is something called Request For Trial by Written Declaration. Basically I go to the courthouse, post the fine as bail, then get a form to fill out and make my case. Then I send it back into the court. When I request a TWD, that means the officer who wrote me up now has to write up his side of the story and submit it to the court as well. Neither of us have to appear.

There are two great things about that. First, when an officer comes to court to testify against you, he gets paid between $200-$300 extra. When he has to respond to a TWD request, he doesn't get paid anything extra. And since the last thing any officer wants is more paperwork, a high percentage of times they just blow it off entirely.

Second, it's writing. And not to sound like it's gonna sound, I'm pretty good at it.

If the judge decides in my favor, the case is dismissed and my fine/bail is refunded with 60 days.

Here's the great part: if it doesn't go my way, within 20 days of receiving the decision I can request a courtroom trial where I can plead not guilty, or request traffic school. If I don't like his decision, I can have another go at it to make it come out the way I want.

It's the very definition of a win-win.

So yesterday, I went downtown, posted the bail and got the form. I waited in a long, long, long line for the traffic court window. I couldn't help but feel out of place due my obvious lack of tattoos and passable grasp of the English language (on both sides of the counter).

On the Subaru site are examples of successfully written TWD's. I'll use one of those, edit them with the facts of my case, clean up the writing a bit and send it on in.

And I'll do it the only way I know how. Fast.