I spent four hours yesterday morning participating in a mock trial—but I probably won’t be able to tell you any of the details about the case for another two years or so. Since this was an actual local case argued by the same attorneys who’ll eventually face off should it get to trial, we signed a confidentiality agreement barring us from discussing the matter for the next two years—or earlier than that, should we happen to read in the paper that a verdict in the case has been reached—so as not to tamper with the jury pool any further than was done by the staging the mock trial itself and eliminating us as potential jurors.

But what I can say is—

I found out about this from a notice in the local paper two weeks ago advertising for volunteers to take part in a jury focus group. Those accepted would receive $100 for four hours of their time. There were to be three sessions—one Friday night and the other two yesterday. I assume, but can’t say for sure, that the same case would be presented over and over to get better information on possible juror reactions.

Most people hate jury duty, but I love it, and might have volunteered even without the promise of remuneration. I’ve been on juries in Brooklyn, NY and Rockville, MD, and had fun both times.

To volunteer, I was to call a number last Monday only, and was then instructed to send an e-mail with my name, phone number, age, race, and occupation. I received a phone call the next day asking for my political party affiliation and income level, as well as whether I had a WV drivers license. After I answered those questions, I was assigned the Saturday morning session.

When I arrived at a local hotel yesterday at 9:00 a.m., I was ushered into a small meeting room with nine other “jurors.” We were asked to fill out a brief survey giving a little more information about ourselves. Whether we saw ourselves as liberal or conservative, what newspapers we read, and so on.

Two questions were unexpected. One asked for my three favorite television shows. With only a few seconds to think it over, I put down Breaking Bad, Lost, and The Wire. What that told the folks running the focus group about which way I’d lean in an actual trial I have no idea!

The next unusual question stumped me. We were asked to name the living American we most admired.

And you know what? I couldn’t think of one! Turned out another person there was equally stumped, as I found out when the moderator of the event asked whether any of the questions had given us trouble.

Someone later asked me whether I considered writing down Irene’s name, but it never even occurred to me to use someone I actually knew as a candidate. Based on what we were told after we handed in our papers, not everybody feels that way, because the split in the answers has historically been 50/50 between those who choose famous unknowns vs. loved knowns. And it turns out that of those who do decide to choose someone they know as their most admired living American, Dads edge out Moms 3-1, and it’s extremely rare for anyone to choose a spouse.

Once we finished with the surveys, we went around the room and explained a little bit about who we were. Amazingly, four of the 10 mock jurors were ex-New Yorkers! I didn’t expect that in West Virginia.

Each attorney then got a chance to speak for 20 minutes, offering a combination of opening and closing arguments, and handing out evidence and exhibits. Then we took a 20-minute break, after which we deliberated. And it got heated. What we deliberated about, and why it got heated, well, that’s something you won’t hear from me for awhile.

I don’t think there’s anything else I can share without possibly tainting the jury pool, so I’ll just add that as we left, the guy running the focus group stood by the door and handed us each a crisp $100 bill. Now all that I need to do is decide how to spend it!