Last week, I had Jury Duty. I managed to avoid it all week, and by Thursday night, I was feeling pretty confident that I'd escaped it...until I learned I had to go in Friday morning. And I got put on a trial.

I don't know anyone else my age who's served as a juror on as many trials as I have. I make it sound like I've served on hundreds of trials, but I've only served on two. But all the other people I know who have been put on TWO trials? They aren't under thirty years of age.

In the trial I served on two years ago, we found the defendant "not guilty," and I left deeply moved and confident about our justice system. The defendant and his family had met some of the jurors outside the courtroom after the verdict, his mother thanking us with tears in her eyes, the defendant hugging us. It was a system I was proud to be a part of.

In this most recent trial, the defendant had been an inmate at the Robert Presley Detention Center in Riverside, and was being charged with manufacture and possession of a shank. The crime had occurred seven years prior to the trial, which meant the defendant had been in jail at least that long. Part of the evidence presented had much to do with life in the prison system. Pictures were shown of the cell the defendant inhabited at the time of the crime, showing a room with a total of 27 bunks on three walls of the cell. In the center of the room, a couple of tables with stools (not chairs) attached. A shower, and a toilet with no lid. "Clothing exchanges," in which inmates get to change into freshly laundered clothing, sometimes take place in the middle of the night (3:15am, for example). They're allowed an 8x10 canister for their personal belongings, but must be careful not to keep an excess of anything, or it will be confiscated. They're allowed pencils, but not pens. If a pencil needs to be sharpened, an inmate must ask the guard to do it, for pencil sharpeners are not allowed in the cell. If they're lucky, they have a bunk to sleep in, but due to overcrowding, it's not uncommon for prisoners to sleep on the floor.

After the verdict, I met my best friend, her children (my godchildren), and my dad for lunch. Driving to work that afternoon, as I let everything sink in, I realized that this time around, I was feeling much different than my first experience as a juror. In this case, there were no winners. While I have no doubt that we came to the just conclusion, I felt sad for this man who found himself in such an environment that getting himself involved in activities that would eventually lead to a jail sentence seemed to be the only way for him. My heart ached for this man, so clearly troubled, and without family, no friends, no support system of any kind during this trial. Even out of prison, this man clearly lives in a completely different world than I do.

So what I'm going to remember from this experience is a new appreciation for the environment that I grew up in and the opportunities I've been given. And each meal that I get to share with my wonderful family is going to taste a little sweeter from now on.