The county website is pretty sparse on information. Recounting my experience will provide a snapshot for early 2014.
The County Courthouse is right downtown OKC, and the maps are good enough to get you there. I was coming in from the eastern side of the county, so I took I-40. Traffic was fairly light until the merge with I-35. I drifted over and took the I-235 exit which was pretty thick and slow, but not intolerable. The simplest route for me was to drop off on Lincoln Blvd. (second exit on 235) and run north to NE 8th Street. A left turn and the street drifts back south and you can keep doing that until you hit NE 4th and cross under the railroad tracks into the city center. I ran along 4th to Harvey, cut left two blocks to Robert S. Kerr. A right turn put me right in front of the county annex and the entrance to the parking garage was down on the right. There really isn’t much reason to chase all the other parking options unless you simply have a preference. You pull in, push the button and grab a ticket and park. You don’t pay until you leave, so don’t lose that ticket.
The street crossing gives you legal priority over vehicular traffic and the lines painted on the street point you to the proper entrance. Inside, you’ll see the security station. To your right is one of those snaking paths between guides. Jurors must enter that route. You can grab a blue bowl (they call it a “tray”) men and empty your pockets. Purses and lunch bags are okay. My fanny pack went right through their X-ray conveyer. I was surprised the big framed metal detector picked up the clips on my gloves, so it’s pretty sensitive. Belt buckles and such will set it off. However, I saw folks dragging in substantial backpacks, briefcases, tablet computers, etc. through the conveyor. What they are looking for is sharp implements and weapons, not all that other stuff.
Once inside, you can wait for an elevator directly beyond the security entrance there in the main corridor that runs south. Or, you can turn down the hallway on your left and find the stair entrance half-way down on the right wall and climb five floors. Most floors have a slight drop from the annex building down to the courthouse in that wide corridor. On jury days there is a cluster of folks waiting in the elevator corridor on 5th floor, with more down near the ramp to the courthouse, but the actual jury room inside a bit. There are big double glass doors between the elevator lobby ramp down to the courthouse. Through those doors and then around a walled section to the left is a big steel door. It opens at 7:30, just as the instructions say. There’s an anteroom/hallway, then another door and a large open room with what looks like church pews. There are cushions on the seat portion.
They want you to walk along that south wall of the Jury Room to the front with your summons letter. They scan the bar code and give you a form to fill out. You can pick up a tiny golf pencil from the basket, too. You’ll need the six-digit number as your Juror Number. That’s how you get paid, by the way. They also give you a clear plastic badge sleeve. You are supposed to tear off the portion of your summons where the bar code is; it has tiny perforations for this purpose. Stick that in your badge and pin it on. You have to wear that during your entire duty time.
There was time for more folks to come in, and we had the place nearly packed at about 385, from what I overheard. With heavy coats and stuff, the place was just a little tight. The assistant in charge of this whole thing was Gail Bowlby, an older fellow who had been running it six years at that time. He uses humor to keep a relaxed atmosphere. He’ll run through a spiel, then the County Clerk, Tim Rhodes himself comes in and does his spiel. Eventually the acting Chief Judge comes in. They rotate this job monthly between some fourteen judges. It’s like a courtroom session: “All rise!” We got a badly rehearsed spiel from this judge but it wasn’t intolerable. Eventually he left.
We were informed that five judges had requested a jury pull. Each pull varied from 25-30 bodies. We were told the pay was $20/day, including any part of the day. The IRS says they can reimburse mileage at the rate of $0.56/mile both ways, as I recall, and they said something about reimbursing for parking fees. The checks are mailed a few days later. Having arrived for duty on one call, you were off the roster for five years. Should you get a summons before that, let them know and you’ll be released. A handful went home for that, plus a few others who must have convinced Mr. Bowlby they should be released for some reason. When the time comes, he starts calling the names. The computer draws them at random from the pool that has reported for duty, then alphabetizes the resulting list.
Around 9:40 the first pull was called and I was included. You really should be ready to answer to your name loud and visually. I pulled the old military thing, jumping to me feet with a firm, “Here, Sir!” He loved it. We were directed to gather in the anteroom where a bailiff waited for us. She said we could bring our drinks if they had lids. It’s probably a good idea to bring at least one lidded drink. I carried a large sport bottle with good water from home, because I hate city water. I also schlepped my lunch and coat with me, too. The bailiff led us down the stairs two flights to third floor and around and down the ramp. The ramp ends in another elevator corridor with a railing and an open view to the main foyer of the courthouse below. At the bottom of the ramp two hallways run away in opposite directions. It appeared there was a courtroom and offices on each corridor. The big fancy courtroom double doors are the first thing you see looking down those two hallways.
We had a fifteen minute break. We were told there was a coffee shop down in the foyer of each of the two buildings and smoking was outside, to include folks with e-cigarettes. The restrooms were pointed out and we wandered around in the open area there for a while.
We were called into the courtroom and told to sit in the spectator gallery first. The two parties of the case were already sitting at their tables. We came in and sat until the judge entered. Again, the ceremony of being before a judge. We were sworn in and seated. The clerk shook a box with stiff paper slips inside. Our names were on the slips. We were called until 19 were seated. I was in this group. The judge went around to each asking questions. Are you married? Do you work? Got kids? The point of the questions was to see if anything might affect our deliberations. Part of it was checking to see if you lived with anyone who might know about the case, etc.
The process of lawyers chatting with the jury pool before selection is called voir dire. It’s part science and part art. You get a feel for the attorneys and hints of what the case is about. This is your last chance to get out of jury duty by making it obvious you are biased or simply cannot bring yourself to judge at all. Anyone with a strong character is likely to be sent off simply because most trials work best with jurors who don’t know enough to have a strong understanding of the matter at hand.
Most cases take that day and maybe part of the next.
At any rate, I was dismissed and sent back to the Jury Room — pretty much what I had expected anyway. You get your name slip from the clerk and walk back on your own. You then turn in your slip to whomever is manning the desk in the Jury Room. This was around 12:15 and lunch was until 1:30. If you don’t like coffee shops, Leadership Square has a food court just a block away and there are other fast food joints nearby. I had brought my lunch.
Folks filtered back in and sat doing whatever entertained them, including several folks napping. It’s okay. By now it was probably less than a hundred still hanging around. Shortly before 3:00 PM Gail called a few names to stay, then began processing the rest of us out. We were called by sections from the seating and turned in our badges. If anyone needed a letter stating where they had been, etc., they could ask and wait for a form letter to be printed with their name on it. It was a mad dash to the parking garage and to get out of the city before traffic picked up.
The parking garage pedestrian entrance is a long foot ramp down to two pay machines. You insert your ticket, then cash in bills smaller than $20. One lady just had to try a $100-bill; no dice. Correct change works best. Folks who came early like me paid the full $8, but some must have come a bit late and only paid $6. The machine will tell you to take your ticket back and use it for an exit token. The parking garage is a bit confusing trying to leave. You drive around to the west-bound ramp up, and at halfway, turn left and back down to the exit lane. Climbing up puts you on even-numbered floors, and coming down is odd-numbered floors. There are several exit lanes where you insert your paid ticket. The bar goes up and you head out one of two exits. There is one last bar, but that raises automatically. It’s there to prevent folks coming in without passing the ticket process.
Final note: Oklahoma officially recognizes the right of jury nullification. They don’t call it that, but you’ll be informed you can, as jurors, tell the government it is wrong about the law and the judge has to go with that. Lawyers generally do not like that. Most of the people I saw stricken from a jury pool were people with strong character, outspoken leader types.
Update: The county does not reimburse for parking, but they do pay the mileage and daily duty. It took nearly three weeks.
