For years, I’ve been harboring resentment towards the jurors in the original O.J. Simpson case. How can those twelve people hear the evidence and not convict that man? I was perplexed. Dumbstruck. Even angered. But now that I’m the one sitting in the juror box all day, listening to testimony, weighing the evidence, and staring at the judges horrendous toupee wondering how that thing can sit on his head all day without moving, I now understand how a thing like that can happen.
You see, we jurors are given strict guidelines to follow that educate us in what determines guilt, how to judge testimony, what constitutes a “shadow of a doubt” and other various aspects of a case that are too boring to show on dramatic television. So today, when I sit with my eleven fellow jurors deciding the outcome of my trial, I’m grateful this case wasn’t broadcast to the world so that others won’t judge me as I did to the O.J. jurors. Forgive me O.J. jurors. I was wrong. An now that I sit in your seat, I understand why you sided the way you did. What I can’t understand however, is how a judge can wear that thing on his head and be oblivious to it’s powers of distraction.