Trekking along the Whitewater

Originally published April 5, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1168

Finally, something from Whitewater that your average doofus (such as this writer) can understand.

I got a call from a source that I shall keep anonymous. I’ll simply call him by his fairly common, impossible to identify first name: Harlan. He phoned up and asked if I’d heard about the bizarreness in the selection of the Whitewater jury in Little Rock, Arkansas.

I confess that the first thing that occurred to me was that Playboy was already approaching jurors about posing for photo spreads, but actually it turned out to be something more offbeat than that.

Seems there was a woman whom both the prosecution and the defense were trying to get punted from the jury “for cause.” For those of you unfamiliar with the concept… it would be like, say, a neo-Nazi shouting “Heil Hitler!” while being questioned about impartiality in the case of the State vs. Hiram Katzenbaum. Odds are you can lose this guy with little problem.

But the judge wasn’t kicking the woman off the jury, stating that the cause given by both lawyers was insufficient.

“Why did they want her off the jury?” I asked Harlan.

“Because she was coming to court every single day… dressed in a Star Trek uniform!” he told me.

I knew this was the moment I was supposed to say, “My God, what a doofus! This woman is desperately in need of a life! This is the ultimate nadir for Trekhead!”

Instead I considered this for a time and then asked, “Which one?”

“Whattaya mean, which one?!” asked Harlan incredulously.

“Original Trek? Next Generation? The movies? Voyager...”

“He’s asking which one! Who cares which one? That’s not the point!” said Harlan.

“It is to me,” I replied.

It was a valid concern, I think. If it we’re talking the original Star Trek, we’re talking those miniskirts. And if she had really awful legs, I could see where serious aesthetic concerns could come into play. If on the other hand it was the movie uniforms (not those gray pajamas from the first one; anything from Wrath of Khan onward), well, that wasn’t so bad. Might be slightly hokey, but if we’re talking black slacks and a white turtleneck… plus the red vest… that can be a rather spiffy ensemble.

The one piece jumpsuits of Next Gen always looked kind of dorky to me: More superheroish than uniformish. Voyager was a nice modification on them, though.

The fact that she was wearing the same outfit every day didn’t bother me particularly. Didn’t automatically mean it was the exact same clothing, thereby posing possible hygiene problems. My understanding is that Einstein had a closetful of the same suit, which saved him having to make fashion choices (I say my “understanding” because my source on this is David Cronenberg’s The Fly, which isn’t exactly standard reference material).

For the record, it turned out that she was sporting a Star Trek: The Next Generation ensemble, complete with an equipment belt that included tricorder and phaser. Oh, and she wore glasses that were designed to be quite similar to Geordi LaForge’s VISOR.

Apparently, despite strong protests from both attorneys, the judge stood firm, contending that simple choice of wardrobe was insufficient reason to punt someone from a jury… at least if it wasn’t particularly inflammatory (I assume that wearing a jacket which read “Death to Darkies” would have gotten someone excused from the O.J. Simpson jury.)

This doesn’t seem to be a bad attitude to have. Keep in mind that the person making the ruling was wearing a large black robe. For that matter, can you imagine if the trial were being held in England? Attorneys wearing black and red robes and white powdered wigs on their heads, saying, “We don’t want that juror. She dresses funny.” Look in the mirror, dipstick.

Of course, you can’t have a juror who’s one cookie short of an Oreo. Apparently both the DA and defense attorney felt that a Star Trek uniform every day was an indicator of lack of mental health. The judge apparently didn’t agree. I guess no one should be surprised. If video tapes of beatings or tons of DNA evidence are insufficient to convince juries beyond a reasonable doubt of violent crimes, why should dressing up like you just walked off the bridge of the Enterprise be enough to tag you as a loony?

I was chatting with Pat O’Neill of Wizard about it and he was coming up with interesting theories as to the “real” reasons why the two lawyers would be loathe to have Yeoman Rand on their jury.

The prosecutor, for instance, might be concerned that someone who dresses in such an unorthodox manner would be a free thinker. A challenger of the status quo. Someone who wouldn’t think twice about refusing to go along with majority opinion, and perhaps result in a hung jury. A rugged individualist who might even have contempt for authority; authority such as the government as represented by the DA.

The defense, on the other hand, might be worried because the presence of the Starfleet uniform indicates someone who is obsessed with rules and regulation. Someone who has great respect for the chain of command, and will be extremely attentive–even sympathetic–to those who represent authority; authority such as the government as represented by the DA.

And as Pat told me all this, he then stopped… pondered it a moment more… and then said, “Or maybe I’ve just watched too many episodes of Murder One, and they just want her gone because they think she’s a flake.”

(Here’s a question: If Murder One goes to a second season, will they change the title to Murder Two? And Murder Three for a third season, and so on? Oh, and for the record: I think Richard Cross’ ex-wife, Francesca, killed Jessica Costello. I don’t tag a spoiler warning on that because I don’t have any sort of inside information; it just makes a certain amount of sense to me. Maybe next time I’ll do a column on why I think that. But I digress…)

Why didn’t the judge share that opinion? Well, in my mind’s eye, I picture the judge going into his chambers after a hard day’s work of sitting around saying “Sustained” and “Overruled,” and taking off that funky gown to reveal a Trek uniform, and then lying on the carpet and playing with his Trek action figures while chuckling madly.

But wait! Maybe there’s another possibility.

Remember Corporal Klinger on M*A*S*H? Always angling for an insanity discharge under Section 8?

Maybe, just maybe… the juror wanted “out” of jury duty. And she sat there and thought about it and thought about it and then said, “I know! I’ll go for a Section 8! Now… what can I possibly wear that will be so outrageous, so offbeat, so ridiculous, that they’ll be sure to toss me off the jury in a heartbeat? Aha! I got it! A Star Trek costume! That’ll work!”

The only problem in this basically clever plan is that it doesn’t pay attention to history: Namely that Klinger’s subterfuge didn’t work. The canny Colonel Potter never fell for it. Even the relatively dim-bulb Colonel Blake could see right through the charade.

So the judge in the Whitewater case might very well have said to himself, “Oooooh, no she doesn’t. If she thinks she’s going to get out of jury duty with such an obvious ploy, she’s got another think coming.”

The true test of that will be if the woman keeps it up for week after week. After all, if she figured that she was going to get booted from the jury, she wouldn’t have counted on sporting the costume more than a couple of days. Does she really want people to think she’s dressing like a dork for however long the trial takes?

In any event, if she really is a hardcore Trek-is-everything, Gene Roddenberry-is-God type fan, and the lawyers really want to get rid of her, they should come dressed as the Borg. Even better… they can come dressed as characters from Babylon 5, which may send her into such screaming fits and paroxysms of fury that they’ll have her escorted out… and maybe even locked up.

I must say, all of this struck me as remarkably funny…

…until I remembered that I’d been called for jury duty next month.

And if I want to get out of it, why, obviously I know what not to wear.

So here I stand, various items spread out on the bed, as I consider my options. The Wolverine plastic dress-up set? Too small. A Barney costume? Too hot. A Spawn outfit? Nah–chains make me chafe.

Go naked, covered in gold paint with a strategically placed sword and go as the Oscar? Sheathe myself in bubble wrap and cardboard and go as a FedEx package? Wrap a black cape around the lower half of my face and pretend I’m Bela Lugosi (hey, it was good enough for Ed Wood.)

I got it.

I’ll dress and talk exactly like Pat Buchanan.

It makes sense. Would you want him on your jury?

Now that would be insanity.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705. Literally hours after the above was sent to CBG, the subject in question was tossed from the jury for violating the judge’s direct instruction not to talk to the press. At this point, I’m inclined to go with the “She was willing to do anything to get out of jury duty” theory. She got off lucky, I suppose. Can you imagine if the judge’s instruction had been, “Under no circumstances are you to strip naked and hop on one foot down the court-building steps clucking like a chicken.”? What a clip that would have made for the evening news.)