Reading (For Dummies)

Creative Innovations meets Moscow Mountain

Laura and I hit up Moscow Mountain. We hadn't been there in a month -- in fact, neither of us have touched our mountain bikes since August...too busy with house stuff, road biking, working on motorcycles, landscaping, to pay much attention to the poor things.

We met at the trailhead a cool dude named Jimbo. He was driving a Dodge Sprinter (a monster of a van) with a huge logo on the side, "Genuine Innovations, Leaders in Valve Technology" with a giant graphic of a bicycle Co2 valve. He was riding a Independent Fabrication frame, something I haven't seen since living back east. I asked him where he was from -- PA. He mentioned a hundred-mile mountain bike race back there. I said "man, I used to ride in New Paltz, NY and this guy there rode a rigid frame single-speed in a race in PA called the Wilderness 101."

"Oh, I know Danny," Jimbo said.

This world is so interesting to me sometimes. Here is a company specializing in probably the nichest of niche products -- I mean, not many people bike, fewer are smart enough to bring a spare tube and some way of inflating said tube, and only a subset of those choose Co2 over a frame pump (I prefer Co2, frame pumps can't ever seem to do over 80psi without killing my arms). Their travelling sales rep turns out to hang with guys that I used to ride with when I was back on the east coast. Oh, and I decided to check out the Co2 cartridge in my road bike's saddle-bag and sure enough, it's a Genuine Innovations Proflate-16...

American (In?)Justice

I've lived in my little neck of Eastern Washington state for about two years now. I was a bit surprised recently to receive a letter in the mail indicating that I had been selected for that typically most dreaded of US experiences: jury duty.

In the US, we don't have to serve a mandatory year in the military, we have to spend a day or so in court trying our peers for crimes that they may or may not have committed. Somehow, the inconvenience of the whole thing causes such a large amount of grief for the average person that you would think military service would be easier.

I guess I'm a dork that looks on jury service with a fair amount of optimism and pride. This is something of a catch-22 -- I'm the sort of person that no lawyer wants on their jury because I would do things like apply rationality and logic to the decision-making process, instead of going with my gut.

I was selected for Whitman County Superior Court, which tries chiefly criminal cases. Myself and 43 other jurors were in pre-selection for a child molestation case. Cue the butterflies in my stomach and the unease in my brain.

Jury selection is an intensely interesting process. 'A jury of your peers,' is by no means random. There was a rather lengthy question and answer session of all jurors trying to determine our biases so that twelve of us would sit on the trial.

The prosecuting attorney in the case was of the public variety. Given the nature of the case, this shouldn't be too surprising. He was an amicable fellow. He studied and memorized each of the jury candidates' names and professions before arriving, asking us each a question based on our profession. He was sharp. Too sharp, I felt, given the nature of the questions -- the evidence against the defendant, from how the prosecution explained it, would be second-hand testimony from the alleged victim read by a police officer. The charges and testimony were filed ten or so years after the incident occurred, according to the attorney.

The defense attorney was not nearly so amicable. The lawyer there bumbled, did not remember jurors names. The defendant himself was deaf, and would be unable to testify before the jury according to the defense counsel. The defendant sat hunched over a computer screen, reading what was going on.

I had a terrible feeling about the whole case. I couldn't help but think of Boo Radley, or even members of my own profession (paranoid-style computer security research does not exactly contain the most socially adept people). It seemed doubtful to me that the defense was going to do much at all. The average joe on the street would probably look at him quickly, say, 'guilty,' and go about their day.

A large part of me wanted to be selected for the jury, to apply Spock-like logic, convince jurors that a decade-old remembrance with no physical evidence should not be enough to send a person, no matter how much of a recluse they appear to be, away to a prison existence that is no doubt worse than Guantanamo. And yeah, I'm the guy that loves Tori Amos and donates money to the Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network.

I was not chosen to serve, though. My odds were slim and nil. My mind was maybe too slow to answer questions the way that the lawyers wanted them answered in order to be in on the trial.

The defendant was found guilty this morning. I'm not sure if the defendant's prior conviction of child molestation would have been admissible as evidence in the court case, and if the jurors heard of it. I wonder if the second-hand testimony contained some fact that could be verified in the real world (a police officer hearing a confession from the defendant, perhaps?). I wonder too how the first case against the defendant went, exactly -- also second-hand testimony? I only hope that justice was served correctly in the case.

It's kind of a weird un-experience that I hope stays with me for a while. I'm not sure how I feel about the case. I hope that I never do.