There was tension in the Jury Room Wednesday morning. Juror #1 arrived over 20 minutes late. The 13 of us had to wait for her before we could go upstairs to the court room.

"Where the hell is Juror #1? " one of the woman asked aloud. Earlier she had told the group a funny story about a person taking their pet fish to the dentist. She’d seen it on Fox 5.

The judge was waiting for us in the courtroom. It felt like such a waste of time. And this wasn’t the first time Juror #1 had been late. She was late back from lunch on Tuesday, as well. Jurors rolled their eyes and sighed impatiently waiting for Juror #1 to arrive…  

At approximately 10 a.m. wearing blue jean shorts and a hot pink
lingerie top, Juror #1 walked in with a Dunkin Donuts bag and an iced
coffee saying that the security line was especially long. She also said
that she had to check her camera/cell phone, which isn’t allowed in the
courthouse.  Lame, lame excuses.

Her lateness meant that the Judge attended to other judicial
business in the courtroom and we the jury had to wait around reading
our newspapers and getting to know one another until he was ready to
see us. The getting to know each other part was actually quite fun.

We are an interesting group. Nine women and five men. Some are big
talkers, jokesters.  Others don’t say a thing. The alternates say
nothing, just sit quietly and read.

We were told to line up to go to the courtroom at around 11 a.m. The
judge dismissed the court early for lunch at 12:30, which gave us an
extra long lunch hour: a big treat. He told us to get back no later
than 2:15.

I took a walk up Court Street to Cobble Hill. I went into a few
clothing shops and bought a poached salmon wrap sandwich at Fish Tails;
it was really tasty.

All of us managed to get back to the Jury Room by 2 p.m. except for
Juror #1. At this point, everyone was incredulous. "Is this passive
agressive or agressive agressive?" I asked. "Three strikes and you’re
out," another juror joked.

The juror in the yellow cap who’d spent most of the lunch hour with
Juror #1 said that they’d gone to Conway, the discount store in the
Fulton Mall. "And then I lost her. I don’t know where she went."

"Conway?" one of the women said. "What she go that far away for?"

"Shoping," the yellow hatted juror said.

The court officer who "babysits" our group kept coming in to see if Juror #1 had re-surfaced.

"The judge wants the jury in the courtroom," the court officer said.

"She’s not back yet," I said.

"Can we write a note to the judge? " another woman said.

"I’ll tell the judge," the court officer said.

"I just don’t want the judge to think it’s us. We were all here on time. He should know who it is," the woman said.

"I’ll let him know," the court officer reassured her.

Juror #1 finally returned to the Jury Room at 2:50 p.m. The court
officer reminded her that we were supposed to be back at 2:15. Juror #1
seemed non-plussed, not exactly remorseful.

"There was a long line at security. And I had to check my cell phone. Also, I have a bad stomach." Juror #1 said.

The eye rolling was unstoppable at this point.

"I have I.B.S. (Editor’s note: an acronym for Irritible Bowel Syndrome, I think). A terrible stomach. When I have to go, I have to go," she said.

"Well, just don’t be late again," said the quiet juror who walks with a cane.

The room was quiet for a while. Some people were shaking their heads.

"Look everyone, I’m sorry," Juror #1 shouted out quite sincerely.
But then she added with a laugh, "You should blame my stomach. It was
terrible today."

When we got to the courtroom, the judge was ready with his
reprimand. He didn’t single out Juror #1 (though clearly he knew what
was going on). "You are obviously all intelligent people," he said.
"And you promised to make a commitment to this case. I don’t need to
say anymore. Just do it."

We were dismissed at 4 p.m; a nice ending to a slow, sometimes exasperating day.