I RETURNED from carrying out my civil duty as a juror a couple of weeks ago and wrote a feature for the paper. It was a funny story because I had to tell a story about something I couldn't really talk about. As my editor wrote in the teaser: "Reporter Nadia Gilani has to hold her tongue for once..."It was nipped and tucked for the presses but here's the raw edit.
JURY SERVICE: I had been summoned to court.And truth to be told I did not want to go.This mood changed however when I discovered that I was to attend the mostfamous criminal court in the world.The Old Bailey, a century old this year, hears cases from all over England.I arrived on my first day in an adrenal overdrive of excitement.This swiftly evaporated after I realised that being a juror involves agreat deal of waiting.Most of the time it is like sitting in a departure lounge at an airportwithout knowing when your flight is.When I asked if I could go and sit in one of the public galleries until Iwas needed – they said no.I ended up serving on only a three-day trial out of the two weeks I wasthere.I cannot of course reveal any details of the case, or details discussed in the jury room, but the experience itself is like no other.The jury selection process exists on the probability of chance.You are picked at random in the first instance by the electoral register.When at court, you wait every day for your name to be called.If it is, you are taken to a court where a new trial is due to begin withup to 18 others.The court clerk then re-shuffles the names and reads out 12 who will serve as the jury.I started plotting a way to flee after the second time this happened to meand I got turned away.But security measures are tight.And you are not allowed to leave the building until the jury bailiffs“release” you so I thought it best to retract the plan lest I might neverreturn to Enfield.Aside from the tedium, there is ample action on which to spectate.From ushers gliding past in their billowing black robes that make them looklike crows to TV crews and barristers speed-smoking outside before theirmorning session to try and convince a jury of their case.One morning I found about 15 armed policemen by the door.The Old Bailey is an exciting, busy place steeped in history.
and the motto: Defend the Childen of the Poor and Punish the Wrongdoer. Inside the courts are dark, windowless and all made of wood.
Still in their traditional form since they were built, they are architecturally intricate and beautiful. Watching the psychological drama that unfolds in a court room is something I find facinating. But as a journalist you are there as the public’s eyes and ears and to challenge reporting restrictions if need be. I succeeded doing this once on behalf of the Gazette when a 17-year-old joy-rider appeared on charges of death by dangerous driving and there was a ban on naming him. So, observing the process of transparent law in action as a member of the proceedings and being unable to talk to the outside world about it was deeply surreal. It confirmed for me that a free press is a vital part of the judicial system. Would I do it again? Given that whenever I come across an intriguing piece of action, my innate urge to tell people about it is hard to switch off - probably not. But if you ever get called and it’s the Bailey that beckons I would say go and try it for size yourself.
