"As we begin the process of jury selection, I would like for Juror Number Six to please stand up," the Honorable Veronica Cristobal, the trial judge, announced, making the butterflies in my stomach really get moving.
I knew what this was about. Roni and I had this weird love-hate relationship in high school, which consisted of her bullying me at first when we met. She had gotten a lot sweeter on me later, but by then, even as attractive as she was, I resented her and didn't give her the time of day. I relented just in time for the final semester of my senior year, when we were cadets together in JROTC, me outranking her slightly as cadet sergeant to her rank of cadet corporal. We dated for about ninety days and Mom in particular couldn't believe this "charming young lady," in her words, had ever been my bully.
A quarrel during the prom had led to me dancing with Heather Estrada, Roni's worst enemy, and sleeping with her instead of my date later that night. Heather thought that it was cute to then "lend" me to her best friend Candace Strong. I was too drunk to even notice or care that Roni had watched us get it on in that rather strange threesome. All that I knew was that Candace preferred to be called "Candy" and she lived up to her name. She was the first black girl to even so much as kiss me in my life and she did a lot more than that, proving utterly delicious! What happened after that, well, I didn't keep track of it.
I was far more worried about the fact that Roni had sent me an angry, accusatory letter in seventeen pages, completely ignoring her own past of bullying me while blaming me for the fight and demanding an apology for "cheating" on her. My answer was much briefer. I sent her a postcard from my basic training location that read, "To the bully who dumped me on prom night: kiss my ass." I had better things to do with my time back then, especially given the drill sergeant's own brand of hazing, to even think about Roni.
We went separate paths after that, including six years in the Army before a piece of shrapnel from the Republican Guard in the waning hours of the invasion of Iraq sent me home with a medical discharge. Roni fell pregnant, but finished high school, and then spent many years attending college and law school close to home so that she could raise her children while finishing her law degree and taking the bar exam. I never learned the paternity of her twins, so I naturally assumed that she got knocked up on prom night with someone else during our last lovers' spat, though we had been intimate and she took my virginity in fact. I never knew whether or not I took hers and frankly didn't care.
I had seen her once or two after that, mostly as I made my way through the high school educational system. Yeah, I became a teacher, for a variety of reasons that mystified even me, leading me to even rise to the level of principal of the very same high school where we both attended. Whenever I encountered Roni, she'd give me this brief, haunted stare and never say a thing to me. I was never sure about any of that, particularly during the PTA conference where we last met, where she attended with her twins six years ago.
I heard a very brief giggle behind me and turned around to see Juror Number Nine blush in response to my reaction. I found myself briefly bewitched by her soft, wet lips, her dimples, her baby blue eyes, and her long, blonde curls. She was a bit slimmer than a lot of my recent lovers, but she had luscious, long legs and a truly delectable ass with the right amount of butt cleavage. Her breasts were smallish, but still were perky and slick with her sweat in the sun of an El Paso June. I heard a curious cough from the bench to draw my attention back to Roni.
"Juror Number Six, again, please stand and face the court. That means you, in case you missed it, Mr. Jack Jacobs," Roni now singled me out by name.
"Ah, yes, Your Honor, if this is about prior knowledge of yourself, as the trial judge, I wish to confirm that I have such," I cleared my throat.
"Indeed you do, as do I, Mr. Jacobs, but more relevant to this case is this question. Can you set aside your personal feelings well enough to deliberate this matter without bias, prejudice, or sentiment of any kind clouding your judgment? I wish to be clear that I will attempt to be impartial toward you as required by law, and I naturally wish to fully disclose our prior attachment, so as to carry out my duties as a trial judge in compliance with the laws and regulations of this state, as well as the Constitution of the United States. If not, I am prepared to excuse you from jury service today with the thanks of the court and consider this a fulfillment of your civic duties until you next qualify for jury selection," Roni continued, putting me on the spot, though to be fair, she had a sensible concern.
"I cannot honestly promise that, Your Honor. I would like to think so, but I would be lying if I didn't say that it's taking an unnecessary risk and would do a disservice to our criminal justice system and everyone involved. I don't think that it would be fair to either the prosecution or the defense to take such chances with such variables as human emotions and prior association between a juror and judge," I admitted, getting a nod from Roni.
"I thank you for your honesty, and I'm inclined to agree here. Even my attempts at impartiality risk erring on the side of either too much severity or too much leniency to avoid the appearance of the opposite. I'm glad that you're not petty enough to use this opportunity to satisfy any personal grievances, grudges, or lingering issues with a trial court judge who has many responsibilities and doesn't need the distraction of an old flame. Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I wish to confirm that I briefly dated Juror Number Six during my senior year of high school and he is the father of my twins, though this last news is probably a bit of a shock to him, as I never told him before.
"Accordingly, Juror Number Six is now dismissed from voir dire for today and the relevant period required by law. He is free to go home and doesn't need to return to the assembly room to await further jury selection. I do not believe that he was quite prepared for this situation and neither was I. I wish to instruct the bailiff at this time to provide Mr. Jacobs with the documentation proving that he has satisfied his jury service requirements for the time stipulated by law. Thank you for your service in this jury selection process as well as in the military and to this community as a dedicated educator. Good day, sir," Roni released me with surprising grace, given our past.
"Thank you, Your Honor," I coughed as the bailiff led me out of the courtroom, all eyes momentarily focused on the man who had evidently knocked up the judge years back.
Leaving the courtroom, I made a beeline for the nearest cantina, finding my appetite for something very spicy return with shocking speed given my nerves. Thankfully, I had the foresight to take the new El Paso Streetcar route from my house to the courthouse, so any drinking would have less effect than if I drove. That was good, because I could certainly use an ice cold beer or two with my fajitas, frijoles, rice, and pico de gallo (yeah, Tex-Mex cuisine was a large part of my motivation for staying in West Texas).
I had a friendly flirtation ongoing with several waitresses and the hostess, which was funny because she was the aunt and they were all her nieces. If any of the ladies were pissed that I flirted constantly with their beloved Tia Pilar, they had to complain about it. I certainly hadn't seen a drop in service from them and they flirted as fiercely with me as ever. Maybe I missed something in their body language that betrayed their secret feelings, but if so, I was blissfully unaware of the fact.
"Senor Jack, good to see you again. What brings you downtown today?" Pilar Campbell, the owner and hostess of Casa de Pilar, gave me her usual enchanting smile with a small trace of a mustache above her upper lip.
"Jury duty. No, I didn't get picked. So, I thought, since I was in the neighborhood," I grinned at her, the meaning in my eyes intentionally risque.
