For three weeks I served as a Juror in downtown Chicago. It was a Civil Trial - medical malpractice. Basically, I had to evaluate if the Defendant was a good man, and thorough.
The specifics of the case were daunting: the visual torture of doctors' notes, nurses' notes, blood test results and expert testimony became overwhelming at times. For the sake of my civic duty, I took copious notes. (I also kept as quiet and listened as intently as Liam)
I was jolted in the jury box during the cross examination of the Defendant. I don't have access to the official transcript (although I do wish I could have given the court reporter my number - but that's another story related in my quest for a special lady friend), but here's a very close reinterpretation:
QUESTION: ...and the ultrasound showed it to be one by three and a half centimeters in size?
QUESTION: About the size of a golf ball?
ANSWER: Obviously you're not a golfer.
QUESTION: But that's what the note said...
Later in the trial, the Lawyer for the Plaintiff said, "The imperial 'we'?"
Close Counselor... Nice effort.
In an action completely unrelated to my love for all things Lebowski, we ruled in favor of the doctor.
He was a good man, and thorough.[TQ]