How Fun is Jury Duty?

On November 24, 1963, Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald in the basement of the Dallas County Municipal Courts building.

Forty-five years and two days later, the Driver found himself in the same building's Central Jury Room.

The Driver was unaware of his infamous surroundings until about forty minutes into his civic duty. That's when the judge came in to swear us in as potential jurors, and to review the handful of possible exemptions from jury service (Example of an actual question used to determine possible exemption: "Are you currently insane?").

This judge was cool. She made jokes and seemed genuinely happy to see us there. And in the process of explaining where to find the snack machine and restrooms, she casually mentioned that anyone who wished to could see the place where Lee Harvey Oswald was shot. All one had to do, she said, was find any security guard in the building and ask to be escorted to the basement.

Once the judge returned to her courtroom, the bailiff announced that we would have a thirty minute break -- after which we would be told whether or not our service would be required.

And so, after careful consideration and a bag of chili flavored Fritos, The Driver decided, "What the heck? I sure hope I'm never here again, and I sure hope I never have to see the basement of this building for any other reason. Plus, I'm paying these people's salaries. So yes, one of them should definitely give me a guided tour of this facility."

First step: Locate any security guard. The Driver found one seated at a desk near an exit.

The Driver: "I'd like to see where Lee Harvey Oswald was shot."

Security Guard: "You need a security guard to go down there."

[ Pause. ]

The Driver: "Yes, I know. Do you know where I might find one?"

[ Pause. ]

Security Guard: "You need to see a supervisor."

The Driver: "Okay."

[ Slight pause. Apparently, the Security Guard hadn't anticipated this tenacious and cunning move on The Driver's part. ]

Security Guard: "See the woman at the end of the hall on your left. Her name's Amanda."

The Driver proceeded to the end of the hall, where he found Officer Amanda cavorting with a co-worker. They were sharing a pair of earbuds, engaged in a conversation with a third party -- presumably another security guard in another part of the building.

The Driver: "Excuse me."

[ Amanda, looking frustrated, finishes her sentence, removes an earbud from her ear and looks expectantly at The Driver. ]

The Driver: "I'd like to see the place where Lee Harvey Oswald was shot."

Sensing Amanda's reluctance, The Driver attempted some levity.

The Driver: "Yeah, apparently one of the judges is offering free tours of the building."

Without saying a word, Amanda handed the earbuds back to her co-worker and sauntered toward an elevator. The Driver followed. The process took place in silence, and ended with the elevator opening into the basement parking garage. Amanda walked out and headed toward a ramp that lead to the street above. (FYI, in jail parlance, the system of driveways, gates and ramps that provide ingress and egress for vehicles and inmates is known as a "sallyport.")

She stopped at an unfamiliar set of doors.

Amanda [ motioning in the general direction of nothing in particular ]: "Here it is."

The Driver didn't recognize the location. His memory of the infamous photo was sketchy, and he seemed to remember more brick and less glass. 

The Driver [ motioning to the doors ]: "So, he came out of there and..."

Amanda: "That was before my time. That was '63, and I was born in '66. I don't know anything."

The Driver: "Okay."

Their transaction complete, The Driver followed Amanda back onto the elevator for a silent ride to the main floor.

Upon his return to the Central Jury Room, The Driver mentioned to another prospective juror that he had followed through on the judge's invitation to tour the parking garage. The other juror said that he had also been to the basement. And to the fifth floor -- where he was shown the proposed location of a future law school, and not to mention two primitive cells in which Lee Harvey Oswald had been held immediately after his arrest. Apparently, the other juror had found not a security guard, but rather the head of maintenance -- a man named Williams. After a tense "Who wants to know" moment between the two men, Williams suddenly morphed into an eager and jovial tour guide, offering access to several noted sites in the building, along with juicy historical nuggets and assorted narrative. The Driver wished he had found Mr. Williams instead of Officer Amanda.

Soon, the bailiff arrived with good news. Our services would not be required for the day. We were dismissed.

The Driver collected his $6 stipend for his jury service, then paid $10 to leave the parking garage. He then paid $3 to park for 17 minutes at Record Grill, where he paid $6 for a double cheeseburger, fries and a Dr Pepper. Bottom line, for just $13, The Driver got a burger and an awkward tour of a notorious Dallas landmark.

And so, Dear Reader, if you are ever summoned to appear in the Central Jury Room of the Dallas County Municipal Courts building, here are a couple of helpful hints:

1. Plead insanity.

2. Find Mr. Williams, then ask to see the basement.