Note about what "First Person" columns are:

First Person columns are personal stories and experiences of Canadians, in their own words. This is intended to showcase a more intimate storytelling perspective, and allow people from across the country to share what they have lived through.

A good piece will spur conversation. It could be a slice of life or a transformative moment that changed your life. Perhaps your personal story will inform how the reader thinks about the world.

Intro:

I knew I was a goner as soon as the sheriff walked into the room. He looked like everyone’s genial Uncle Bob except for the police vest and the walkie-talkie that hung from his belt.

“Juror 322, gather your things. We have to go see the judge,” he said.

A young blond woman picked up her bag and followed Bob out the door.

I knew that exchange meant she wouldn’t be back. And, as the alternate juror for a 12-member jury, I would take her place.

I have never met anyone who wanted to be on a jury. I certainly didn’t.

However, over the course of a three-week trial, we evolved from a gaggle of annoyed people crabbing about how this was going to take time away from watching The Pitt or on the pickleball court to a group that worked hard to figure out whether the accused committed the crime.

In true Canadian fashion, there wasn’t one moment when the piano started playing O Canada or we recited Jeff Douglas’s "I Am Canadian" speech. Instead, it was a collective shoulder shrug that basically said, "We’re stuck here. We might as well figure out the correct answer."