What My Friend Charlotte Wore To A Murder Trial
A guest post by one of my favorite people.
Last November, one of my funniest (and best) friends,
(who writes this excellent Substack Charlotte’s Shorts of micro-stories - I love this one) was called in for Jury Duty in LA. She’s a born and raised Los Angeles native, and it was her first time serving on a Jury….and she got assigned to a three week long murder trial.Obviously, it was super heavy, and she took the role extremely seriously. Despite it being a very long, very intense and upsetting trial, she’s the kind of person to find wonder and humor in every situation she’s in. While she couldn’t tell us anything about the actual trial while it was going on, she did keep me updated on her outfits.
For probably the first time in her life (she’s a writer and visual artist) she was required to adhere to a “business casual” dress code. She bought her first ever blazer. She made some interesting friends, and I marveled at her ability to turn an exhausting and depressing three week long commitment into an adventure.
I asked if she’d keep a diary of what she wore to trial, because I found it so entertaining and because I love her so much, and this is what she wrote.
(Content note: this trial deals with organized crime and murder, if you’d rather not read about those things, skip this one)
DAY 1
I’ve always been curious about jury duty, so I’m excited to go for a day (one day) and see what it’s like. I put on a black sweater, black pants and black sneakers. The summons says, “business casual.” This is the best I’ve got.
I scan my juror badge and park at Disney Hall in downtown Los Angeles. This is fancier than I thought it would be! However, as I walk the half mile to the Criminal Justice Courthouse, it gets… less glamorous. I enter the building, pass through airport style security and then… it’s basically the DMV.
I make a friend! Her name is Debra. (I’m so good at making friends- not always good at keeping them.) We’re sent up to the 15th floor with about a hundred other people. Inside the courtroom, we learn that this is a murder trial (!!!) and it’s going to last three weeks(!!!!!!!!!!!)! I’m relieved I don’t get called into the jury box.
The judge makes a BIG point in telling everyone that it’s not a crime to be in a gang. Yes. Got it. The prosecutor asks potential jurors how they feel about gangs and cops and do they understand that being in a gang is not a crime?
At 4pm, it seems like my jury duty experience is coming to an end. The jury box is full. Then the judge asks if anyone has any reason why they can’t serve. All twelve hands go up.
By 4:15, only four potential jurors remain in the box. The rest of us will have to return tomorrow morning.
DAY 2
I wear pretty much the exact same outfit. My new friend Debra assures me we won’t end up on the jury.
Ten minutes later, my number is called. I’m placed into seat number two.
I’m asked if I understand that being in a gang is not a crime. I nod and look around me.
Lots of people are wearing blazers.
Debra’s number is called. By the end of the day, we’re both officially sworn into the jury and the trial starts on Monday.
So…I buy a blazer. For jury duty. I’m a Really Important Person now.
DAY 3
Monday morning- I wear my new blazer for the first time, and I am the boss of life. On the way to school, while stopped at a red light, I fix this shitty toy fan for my seven-year-old right after he bets me I can’t. When I hand it to him in the backseat I say, “Suck on that!”
He says, “Suck on what?”
I fucking love this blazer. It totally changes my vibe.
Our first witness is a Hot Cop in a tight suit with a deep voice.
The first thing he tells us is that all gang members are criminals….OK! LOL!
Apparently, he’s an expert in the gangs of east LA. After his four-hour testimony, I too am now an expert in the gangs of east LA.
DAY 4
We walk into the courtroom and Hot Cop is already there, busting out of another tight ass suit. I bet he likes it rough. Told you the blazer changes my vibe.
As I pass the prosecutor, I nod at her, lawyer style. I belong here. Even at lunch, walking around downtown, people look at me like I’m a real grownup that someone would trust to do stuff with their money.
The highlight of the day is when the prosecutor makes Hot Cop show us some gang signs with his fingers and the defendant laughs out loud at him. I snort and try to pass it off as a cough. The defendant looks at me. I sit up straighter and put my hands in the pockets of my blazer.
I wear cute blazer outfits the rest of the week. These days are getting LONG. They’re blurring together. The meaning of “business casual” is changing. I see more people in jeans. One guy wears a hoodie.
DAY 7
I wear this:
Cute, right? I know. Huge mistake. First, I have to fully unbutton and unzip the jeans just to sit through court, which makes me feel like I have my guts out. I hold my backpack in my lap most of the day.
Then, I have on this amazing sweater, which brightens up my skin and makes people smile at me. Which is great. Except when it’s the defendant in a murder trial. Because you know… murder. And he’s now openly smiling at me. Often. He does have a good sense of humor. Maybe he’s innocent!
Still. No more jeans. No more adorable sweaters.
DAY 8
Woke up this morning mid sex dream. Someone was going down on me AND talking to me at the same exact time. It was so impressive, and surprisingly relaxing. I decided to roll with that vibe and wear my pajamas to court. I added my nana’s camel coat and some orange sneakers. It ended up being my best look so far.
I love running around downtown during the lunch break with my jury crew. Especially in this coat. I feel like we’re on an adventure, laughing and exploring the city.
In court, we start watching CCTV footage. There’s a lot of nothing, but we can kind of see what happened. We watch hours and hours of different angles of blurry videos.
I wear different pajamas under my coat the next day.
DAY 10
It’s the day before Thanksgiving and I’m over jury duty. It’s drizzling. My back hurts from all the sitting. My eyes hurt from squinting at blurry videos. I’m tired. I don’t shower.
I put on my big ass Uggs, some leggings and a giant fleece sweatshirt I've had since the '90s. Suck on that, “business casual!”
Oh. And right before I leave, my dog jumps up on me and I spill cereal all over my sweatshirt. I rub the milk into the fleece. My husband tells me I look nice today.
I think I’m going to start smoking.
Everyone is hopeful we will get out by noon today.
At 1:30, I take off my bra and shove it into my backpack.
They keep us here until the building closes at 4:30pm.
DAY 11
I come back from the break in my pajamas and coat. Again. The guy next to me is wearing sweatpants. The defendant, in his button-down shirt, looks nicer than the entire jury.
The lead detective takes the stand. He testifies for a few hours. Then, he plays us an interview where the defendant admits that he’s the person in the CCTV footage (the one seen committing the murder) WHAT?! Why didn’t they show this to us two weeks ago?! I’m sorry, Your Honor. This whole trial could have been an email.
The defendant smiles at me. I give him a tiny smile back. Sue me.
Day 12
On the last day, as we pass through security, Debra sets off the metal detector.
Without even looking up, the guard says, “it’s fine.”
Yikes!
We deliberate. I thought about wearing sweats and a hoodie today, but it felt wrong to wear that during the reading of the verdict. So I wore my pajama/coat combo.
When we enter the court and sit, I’m so nervous, I’m shaking. I wrap myself in my nana’s coat. The court clerk reads the guilty verdict.
We are thanked for our service and excused. I made random, amazing friends and I think I’m walking out of here having written the beginning of a romance novel. Or a porn. As we turn in our juror badges, we are told we earned $15 a day for our service. LOL. I would have done it for $10.
Your friends,
Laurel & Charlotte
 | A guest post by
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"I’m sorry, Your Honor. This whole trial could have been an email." I feel like this sums up 80 percent of adulting. So great! Thank you!
This is fantastic. As a Public Defender I desperately wish the jurors could opt to make daily journals that would be shared with counsel at the end. Did you hate my suit? What about my voice? You’d rather go have drinks with me and not the prosecutor right?