Last time I did jury duty it was fuckin' bizarre.

They piled us all into the room, as per usual. Then a bailiff walks up to the other bailiff and rather than get on the PA like normal, she reads down a list and calls fourteen people. Our names have been hand-written.

We're told that we're going to a different court, go get some lunch, be there in two hours. It's not quite across town, but it is in a weird section of Chinatown. We all stumble in one at a time, trying to find parking, 'cuz it's pretty much a residential neighborhood. The building we're supposed to meet in is unmarked, with no visible doors. Then the barn doors (no handles) open and a cop lets us in. There's nowhere to sit. the "jury room" is for storage. They'll get us a table soon, they say.

Then they lead us into the courtroom. Yes, there's a courtroom.

We're going to be playing "Mental Health Court."

Apparently, Los Angeles is the only city in the only state in the only country in the world where, if you are committed against your will but together enough to know the law and protest, you can ask for a jury trial to determine your sanity.

What followed was positively Kafka-esque. BOTH lawyers clearly wanted the defendant to remain in custody, but only one of them was allowed to show it. Unlike other juries I've been a part of (like your experience above), this wasn't the last rejects who couldn't flunk voir dir - there was a psychiatrist, two medical doctors, a lawyer, two screenwriters and a few others. And we were trying to determine whether or not this clearly-not-crazy-right-now guy in front of us should be allowed out where he wouldn't be forced to take his meds. At one point he got up from the bench and walked over to the jury box with a hand-scrawled manifesto. He tried to hand it to me ('cuz if you're going to be in the rarest court in the world, be the foreman). The bailiff didn't quite jump him, but didn't quite escort him politely back either.

We deliberated for 2 hours and I 12-angry-men'd the dude back into custody. On the way out the secretary walked up to me - the reason she looked familiar was she used to be my neighbor. I'd fixed her car once. She said hi, I said hi, she asked how were things, things are fine, say what the hell just happened?

"Yeah, Leo always asks for a jury trial."

"He's been through this before?"

"Oh yeah. About every six months or so."

"So... how often do you guys... do the jury trial thing? 'cuz it seems kind of infrequent."

"Oh, about every six months or so."

As I got on my motorcycle to go home, I saw "Leo" in the back of a van. The van pulled out in front of me. He stared at me for a good quarter mile, until I got on the freeway.

I looked him up when I got home. He'd broken into a city councilman's house (2nd house - purchased solely to establish residency in a district - big scandal) and had been living in it for six weeks. Shitting in the bathtub, writing in feces on the wall, good stuff. Threatened the cops with a knife when they responded to the neighbors' complaints about the smell.

On meds? fairly normal dude. Off meds?

Well, I wouldn't want him in my house.

Anyway. Fuckin' bizarre. I expect this next go-round will be more normal.