My Somewhat Fiery Furnace

If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand.   Daniel 3:17 (NIV)

It is hard to believe sometimes that I have been a court reporter for 16.5 years.  I guess times flies when you're having fun.  As I have mentioned before I could tell so many stories on some of the stuff I have seen, heard or experienced.  Really, you might think nothing goes on in these parts, and yes, compared to bigger cities, I guess one could say nothing major is going on here in these parts, but you might be surprised.

Over the next few weeks, I'll try and tell some of my most memorable courtroom experiences. Keep in mind, I am not going to get too specific on details...although most, if not all, the stories I mention is public knowledge and/or of record. 

I guess I should start with the very first jury trial I ever reported.  Of all the things I do, a jury trial is one of the most stressful.  Everyone is kind of keyed up and at their best.  We have a room full of citizens waiting to be questioned as possible jurors so you want to look good, act professional and know what you're doing.  My mentor, I'll call her "Traci" even taught me about the importance of jury trial hair and wardrobe.  The jury, once picked, sees me from the back mostly...so I want my hair looking decent from the back...and I want to wear a dress or outfit that looks good from the rear view.  Important stuff...ha.

Here's a little legal terminology lesson for you (and these are strictly my simple definitions):  The "venire" is the term used to describe that group of citizens waiting to be questioned.  The venire panel is chosen by the Secretary of State's office, randomly, for the circuit clerk to call in for jury duty.  People used to think you had to be registered to vote to get picked...that is not so.  If you have a driver's license or a state ID card, your name is also on that list (or at least that is my understanding).  "Voir dire" is the term used to define the process of questioning the venire or potential jurors as to their qualifications to be a juror.  (Hopefully, you learned something today...not sure it's useful, but there you go.)

Okay, back to jury trials.  My very first week of employment, I spent shadowing another reporter in a nearby county, "Traci."  My prior court reporting experience was freelancing which is going here, there and everywhere to report depositions, and is not associated, most of the time, with the courtroom scenario.  I had zero knowledge on how to actually do my job in the courtroom, aside from knowing how to type fast on a steno machine, obviously.   So I spent the week working with my mentor, learning the ropes, and the following Monday morning, I was on my own, in my 'home' county to work as an official court reporter. 

I show up on that Monday morning ready to begin my first real day of working in a courtroom.  Funny, I could not find a parking place.  Hmm, that is strange.  Funny, haha funny, the reason I could not find a parking space is because there was a whole group of citizens, "the venire" there for "voir dire."  Mind you, I didn't know what those words even meant yet!  I nearly fell over.  Here I was, 21 years old, about to be thrown into a fiery furnace...or at least that's how I felt.

I set my stuff up in the courtroom, took several deep breaths, whispered a few prayers and we started.  Again, I had absolutely no clue what I was doing, but one thing I was sure of, if I just kept typing what everyone was saying I would be okay, I could figure out the rest later.  It was a short jury trial.  I somehow muddled through.  We picked a jury, heard testimony and eventually the time came for a jury instruction conference.  What?  Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.  It's a conference with only the judge and the attorneys before closing argument when they discuss what instructions they will read to the jury.  Again, I just go with the flow and type, type, type.

There was one pivotal moment for me that occurred during this jury instruction conference.  When the judge said the term "IPI" and a number, I knew I was in over my head.  I had absolutely NO clue what he was talking about, I wasn't even sure he had actually said "IPI."  I had no business being in a jury trial, something serious and life-changing for another human being.  I was completely lost. 
I remember that evening telling Jay that I had absolutely no business being a court reporter, working in a courtroom or a jury trial.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do, or what we were going to do because we had just moved to this town for my new job, but I was positive that I was way out of my league.

Obviously, I stuck it out and learned what an IPI was (Illinois Pattern Instruction...duh;).  I took the time to ask and learn what in the world it meant, what the jury instruction conference was, and many other things.  From that particular experience, I took away one very important lesson...school only prepares you for so much.  Most of what you learn, you will learn on the job. 

I suppose that throwing me in the fiery furnace right off the bat was the only way to do it.  I still think it was crazy, administratively-speaking, but what do I know?   I managed to get through it, probably with some higher power, if you know what I mean...