Summoned today for jury duty in Baltimore City, I donned my Jury Protection Costume.
The gray hair and thick eyeglasses are a given.
To them I added a three-piece black suit with a blue polka-dot bow tie, white pocket handkerchief and gold watch chain. I took the Sunday-go-to-meeting walking stick instead of the daily cane.
The goal, as always, is to look like someone neither counsel wants to see empaneled, and in Baltimore City, the Jury Protection Costume is virtually foolproof. I can see them saying to themselves, "I don't want That Man on this jury."
It failed once, a few years ago, when a defense attorney saw that the police evidence in a criminal trial was shaky and wanted a Skeptical Journalist on the panel.
(My students, who got the day off from class, had voted unanimously that they favored me to convict, though in fact I have voted to acquit on the only two juries on which I have ever served.)
As it turned out, I was never even called to voir dire all day long. My service to Baltimore City has been fulfilled, but the Jury Protection Costume was for naught.