Front Porch: From the courtroom to the emergency room

Recently, I had a week that began with jury duty and ended in a catastrophic car crash. I swear, my headlines write themselves.

Let’s start with the courtroom.

Unlike some, I’ve always been eager to serve on a jury. I own a copy of “Twelve Angry Men,” I ask questions for a living, and my note-taking is expert level. Yet, I’ve never been picked.

Honestly, I wondered if the court system has some kind of media bias.

That changed on Sept. 3. I reported to Spokane County Superior Court with 40-plus fellow residents as required. After watching a couple of videos and listening to information about how to get my whopping $10 per day, I was issued a badge.

Farewell, Cindy Hval – hello Juror No. 6.

After a lunch break long enough for me to rush home and snuggle my new kitten, I returned to the courthouse for voir dire. That’s a fancy term meaning attorneys on both sides of a case question prospective jurors to determine if they can be fair and impartial.

We were given the bare bones of the case and told that a jury trial in a civil case is extremely rare in Washington.

Fascinated, I listened as attorneys from both sides asked pointed questions of prospective jurors.

Then the defendant’s attorney called on me and asked what publications I wrote for and what topics I covered.

When I described this column, the attorney asked, “So, once this case is concluded, should we expect a column about your experience?”

I looked at him and at the judge and shrugged.

“Well, I’m here. This is my life.”

Despite that, I was included in the jury.

When I sat down, the woman seated in front of me, asked, “Did you review my husband’s book?”

Indeed I had.

The trial commenced. It was a big business versus a very big business and the jury’s task involved assessing damages (if any).

As a courtroom drama fan, a few things stood out – mainly the lack of drama. The objection process seemed subdued. No one stood up and yelled “OBJECTION!” No gavels were pounded, and the judge never once called for “order in the court.”

Every time things got tense between the opposing sides, the jury got ushered out. I felt like a kid being sent to her room so the grown-ups could chat.

The jury room was nice and we had private bathrooms to prevent us from accidentally encountering any parties in the lawsuit. We also had snacks that were a bit better than airline snacks.

But there was sitting. A lot of sitting. We were relieved to learn our presence wouldn’t be required in court on Friday.

So that day, I drove to an interview in Otis Orchards. I almost made it.

As I neared my destination, I slowed and switched on my turn indicator. The next thing I knew, there was a terrific smashing sound – dust, gravel and glass flew.

I’d been rear-ended by a semi.

Shakily, I exited Ruby Sue (my Ford Escape) and surveyed the damage. My car was obviously totaled.

A witness saw the accident and pulled over to call 911.

In the adrenalin rush that followed I called my husband, called the couple I was supposed to interview, and answered the state trooper’s questions. I didn’t care to watch him cite the driver.

At the urging of responding firefighters, I let Derek take me to the emergency room. I was bruised and shaken but cleared to go home. It could have been so much worse.

If I’d been at a complete stop.

If I’d been making my left turn.

If the semi had been hauling a load.

It’s been a little over two weeks since the accident. My bruises have faded. The insurance companies are doing what they’re supposed to do. I’m following up with my physician as advised.

But gosh, I miss Ruby Sue. She was the first car that I got just for me. The only one I didn’t have to use to haul kids to school and sporting events.

“We’ll get you a newer and better Ruby Sue,” Derek said. “Cars are replaceable, you aren’t.”

So, I’m choosing gratitude. I’m thankful I’m here for our son’s wedding next week. I’m thankful that soon I’ll be in Ohio visiting our grandkids, and I’m grateful for seven years and lots of miles with my sparkly Ruby Sue.

It turns out she lived up to her model name – Escape.

As the witness stood with me at the accident scene, looking at the wreckage, he said, “I saw how hard he hit you. That little car saved your life.”

On the way to the hospital, I called the courthouse.

Being rear-ended by a semi is one way to get out of jury duty, but I sure don’t recommend it.

Cindy Hval can be reached at dchval@juno.com. Hval is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories from the Greatest Generation” (Casemate Publishers, 2015) available at Auntie’s Bookstore and bookstores nationwide.