The letter from the Forsyth County Sheriff’s office set my mailbox on fire. I moved it from hand to hand as I coaxed it from the receptacle. I had a suspicion of what it could be, but you never know. I hadn’t broken any laws to my knowledge, but good news is rarely delivered by the Sheriff’s office. After tearing the envelope and seeing the words “Juror # 163” emblazoned next to my name, a wave dread crashed over me. The seeds for anxiety were planted.
Thanks man! It was an interesting experience. Used it to see if I could make a boring event a readable story and then took Worth’s advice and tried to make it as short as possible since I tend to write long. Reps on reps. Stoked for your book btw!
Stan, This is hilarious. I was in the same boat last week. I was seated as juror 12, but the defense attorney booted me during his questioning.
Thanks man! It was an interesting experience. Used it to see if I could make a boring event a readable story and then took Worth’s advice and tried to make it as short as possible since I tend to write long. Reps on reps. Stoked for your book btw!