Some jurors are left with unfinished business

Think there's no fate worse than jury duty? Consider alternate-jury duty.

Like other jurors, alternate jurors put their lives on hold to fulfill their civic duty. They sit through the same long hours of testimony — often profoundly distressing or distressingly boring — as other jurors do.

But just as the other jurors are about to tackle the crucial work of reaching a verdict, alternate jurors learn they've been cast out of the jury — barred from participating in the final act of the reality drama of the courtroom.

"It was almost like a slap in the face," said 33-year-old Shelly Wilson, a Bothell woman who was an alternate juror in a lengthy assault trial in Snohomish County Superior Court last year. "I guess I was a little bit resentful, maybe. I thought, 'What's wrong with me?' "

But it wasn't her — it's the system. Alternate jurors are the understudies and vice presidents of American jurisprudence: Judges and lawyers need to have them around — just in case.

If another juror can't finish deliberating for some reason, then the alternate juror, already primed for the task, steps in to fill his or her shoes.

Unlike vice presidents, though, alternate jurors don't seek their jobs, and typically don't even know they have them for the bulk of their tenure. While judges usually tell a jury panel at the beginning of a trial that one or two among them won't get to vote on the verdict, they often don't reveal who the randomly chosen alternates are until the end, wanting to ensure that everyone in the jury box pays close attention to the case.

The alternates are then forbidden from deliberating with the rest of the jury and, in Washington, even listening in on the jury's discussion. This, after being prohibited from talking about the case with anyone — including other jurors — throughout the trial. And they still can't talk about the case once they're dismissed — not until a verdict is announced.

"I had to leave right then and there," said 36-year-old Tanya Amberson of Arlington, recalling the moment she found out she was the alternate juror in the recent Snohomish County first-degree murder trial of Indle King Jr. "I got down to my car and I kind of broke down a little bit."

Bonding in jury room

While jury duty is often spoken of as something to avoid at all costs, most people find themselves engrossed in the task once they're actually on a panel. They start to care about the people involved in the case, and want to make sure they reach the right verdict. They bond with each other — throwing potlucks in the jury room and making post-trial reunion plans.

The longer the trial, the more intense the jury experience tends to be. And it's in such cases — ones that stretch beyond a few days — that alternate jurors are almost always seated. There's no law requiring them, and in one- or two-day trials, the chance of a juror having to leave are slim enough that judges don't always seat alternate jurors.

In high-profile cases, judges might seat two or three alternates — or more. In O.J. Simpson's murder trial in Los Angeles, there were 12 alternates, 10 of whom eventually replaced jurors dismissed over the nine-month trial. Defendants facing felony charges in Washington are entitled to 12-person juries.

Amberson was one of three alternates chosen for King's month-long murder trial, and the only one who didn't ultimately get on the jury panel. Two jurors had to leave in the early part of the trial, one for financial reasons and one to care for an ailing relative.

Many of the remaining 13 jurors listening to testimony grew increasingly anxious about the possibility that they were the alternate.

"A couple of weeks before the trial ended, we started having dreams about who it was going to be," Anderson said. "A couple of the men said they really didn't care; the gals seemed most anxious. ... We all exchanged phone numbers so if (the verdict) came in, the jurors could all call the poor person it was going to be."

Judges try to break the news gently to alternates. "I say a few words to sort of solidify with the juror that in fact they have served a very useful purpose," said Snohomish County Superior Court Judge Charles French. "I think most of us do say something to acknowledge that it is kind of frustrating."

Court officials aren't surprised when they see alternates roaming courtroom hallways after they get the news — a little in denial that it's really over.

"I wanted closure," Wilson, the alternate in the assault trial, remembers.

After breaking down in tears in the parking lot, Amberson went home and started reading the 200 or so pages of notes she took during the trial.

"I thought, 'They're going to be deliberating, and so will I,' " she said. She then returned to court for the reading of King's guilty verdict.

Not to everyone's liking

But then, not every juror gets attached to the job. One man was so eager to leave the King County Courthouse after learning he was an alternate juror in a recent three-month civil trial that he didn't even want to give his home phone number to the law clerk so she could call him if he was needed.

"He was basically racing out of the courtroom while (another alternate) was bawling her head off," recalled Claire Gilchrist, law clerk for Superior Court Judge Robert Alsdorf.

Judges and lawyers know it's not easy being an alternate juror. And they want alternates to know they are valued — even if it doesn't always feel that way.

"As a general rule, it's going to be more expensive to retry a case than to have an alternate or two," French said. "It's nice to have that comfort level."

Janet Burkitt can be reached at 206-515-5689 or jburkitt@seattletimes.com.