When a New Franklin woman received her jury summons in the mail this year, she did a Google search of “grand jury.”
Like many people, she had no idea what this was.
She soon learned firsthand when she was chosen to serve on a grand jury for two months, one of only 90 Summit County residents who will have the experience this year.
The 53-year-old woman, a nurse at a local hospital, found her experience to be eye-opening, educational and, at times, difficult, and agreed to discuss it with the Beacon Journal, providing a rare insight into a process that is cloaked in secrecy. Her only request was that her name not be used because of safety concerns.
She hopes to help educate people and to encourage more people to participate in — and be excited about — jury duty.
“This is my way of contributing,” she said of her jury service in a recent interview. “I wish more people would. It’s not punishment. I saw it as an honor to be selected and be a part of it.”
The juror is sharing her thoughts at the same time that an Ohio Supreme Court task force is studying the grand-jury process to see whether changes are needed. The group will release its initial report this month.
Selection process
The woman reported to the Summit County Courthouse for grand jury duty on March 1, one of about 150 potential jurors.
As she looked at the diverse group, she wondered if some were there to serve as “petit” jurors who sit on trials and whose service normally lasts from a day to a week. Listening to the chatter, she realized they were all there for the same purpose.
Judge Lynne Callahan provided an overview of how the nine grand jurors and five alternates for the grand jury would be selected. The New Franklin woman was pleased to be juror No. 12, which meant she might at least be an alternate.
Callahan and assistant Summit County prosecutors asked the jurors questions about any conflicts — medical problems, work plans, child care issues, financial challenges. Many jurors hadn’t checked with their employers to find out if they would be paid during their service — and stepped into the hallway to make phone calls. Juror No. 12 already knew she would be paid.
The judge and prosecutors next quizzed the jurors about anyone they knew, such as a prosecutor, police officer or attorney, who could potentially sway their decisions. Juror No. 12 had no such conflicts and chuckled to herself at some of the potential conflicts the other jurors gave, like “my brother’s cousin’s friend is a police officer.”
When the selection ended, Juror No. 12 was part of the grand jury and named deputy foreman.
“Everyone was unsure,” she said of her fellow jurors. “I was looking forward to what came next.”
Education/training
The next step was a barrage of information about how the jury process works and the criminal cases the jurors would be hearing.
Each juror received a packet that included information on the grand jury process, victim services, the Summit County Prosecutor’s Office, definitions of legal terms, a list of commonly used acronyms (BAC, DV, OVI), an explanation of felony domestic violence cases, and a flow chart of Ohio’s judicial system. The chart shows the grand jury as the No. 6 step, with its function being to review felony charges to see if they should go to trial.
Juror No. 12 developed an information sheet that she distributed to her fellow jurors that explains the most commonly used drugs, both legal and illegal, what they are used for and what affect they have. (Her list has been added to the grand juror packets.)
The jurors learned they would report for jury duty at 8:30 a.m. Monday through Friday for two months, with the length of time each day depending on the number of cases. They would be paid $20 a day and would have free parking.
Jennifer Cline, the grand jury coordinator, made a solemn promise to the jurors to “keep them stocked with coffee.” This was welcome news to Juror No. 12, a big coffee fan.
The jurors heard from an Akron narcotics officer who gave them a crash course on drugs and weapons, a victim advocate, and Assistant Summit County Prosecutor Greg Peacock, who presides over the felony domestic violence court.
Hearing cases
The grand jury meets in a room in the basement of the courthouse tucked away by the snack bar.
They sit at an L-shaped table in comfortable desk chairs. The room includes a sink, microwave and mini-refrigerator that the jurors can use and has two windows.
The jurors don’t take a lunch break, but can grab a snack or use the bathroom during breaks between cases. Juror No. 12 said this sometimes was tough because she didn’t want to leave, but could have used a break.
The jurors generally heard 17 to 18 cases per day, with the number sometimes reaching into the 20s.
“By the end of the day, if I was asked to recall specifics of one case versus another, I would be confused,” the juror said. “They were often very similar.”
For each case, the jurors had a list of the charges against the defendant. The jurors listened to witnesses — typically the arresting officer and the victim. An assistant prosecutor asked the witness questions and then the jurors asked their own questions.
If the jurors wanted to hear from another witness, they let the prosecutor know and the witness would be subpoenaed to appear.
After the jurors heard the evidence in a case, the prosecutor and juror alternates left the room and the recording of the testimony stopped. Behind closed doors, the nine jurors discussed the case and voted on whether to endorse a “true bill,” meaning sufficient evidence had been presented for the case to go to trial. Seven of the nine had to agree or the case was “no billed” or remanded to municipal court for possible misdemeanor charges.
The juror said she and her fellow jurors didn’t always agree, but didn’t argue. Most of the time, they “true billed” the cases.
“They were legitimate,” she said. “He had drugs in his pocket, had a gun in his pants and three people saw him leaving the location.”
She said about a dozen cases a week were no-billed or remanded to the lower court.
The cases that bothered her most were the violent crimes, especially those involving children. The jurors typically heard these cases on Thursdays and Fridays, often longer days.
“I can’t automatically shut that off,” the juror said. “I have to process it.”
She said her husband could tell when she’d had a tougher day. She would sum up what she’d heard: “People doing really bad things to innocent kids.”
The juror said it was tough hearing from victims, who sometimes still had bruises. She recalled one woman who was afraid because she had seen the car of the man who assaulted her parked outside. When the woman heard a noise, she jumped.
After she testified, the jurors asked for a police officer to escort the woman to her car. Juror No. 12 said she had to tamp down her nursing instincts to give an upset victim like this a tissue or a hug.
“You have to separate facts from emotions,” she said. “You had to look at it as a job.”
Bonding experience
The juror, however, said the process wasn’t always serious, with jurors bonding and creating moments of levity.
She kept a journal of her experience and noted how serving on the grand jury was similar to the movie Breakfast Club, with people from diverse backgrounds who didn’t know each other thrust together.
“Sharing little bits at a time about ourselves, either intentionally or just through participation in courtroom proceedings, this group bonded,” she wrote in her journal.
A recurring theme among the jurors was the stupidity often displayed by the defendants. The juror pointed, for example, to a man who reported someone had stolen drugs from his home. Police, investigating his complaint, found drugs and drug paraphernalia in the man’s home. The man, who had previous convictions, ended up with several new felonies.
The jurors together created a mock “stupidity code” that they fashioned as if it was part of the Ohio Revised Code. The code says, in part, “No person shall knowingly or unknowingly, unwittingly or with prior calculation or design commit an offense of stupidity.”
The jurors printed a copy of the code, framed it and put it on a bookshelf in the grand jury room, along with mementos left by other grand jurors.
The juror was sad when her service ended. She said it was a great experience that opened her eyes to the county’s criminal underbelly.
“I wouldn’t trade a minute of it,” she said. “I can’t say it was fun. Different, interesting, fascinating, difficult.”
She said it was an imposition on her family and her job, both of which were missing her greatly by the end of the two months.
“And I would do it all over again,” she said.
Stephanie Warsmith can be reached at 330-996-3705, swarsmith@thebeaconjournal.com or on Twitter: @swarsmithabj.