I appreciate today that a jury summons is serious business, but I didn’t two decades ago, when I was twenty-three years old and living in Savannah, Georgia. I received a jury summons and promptly ignored it. After ignoring the first summons, I received a second and ignored it. I am sure each summons spelled out the nature of my obligation and the penalties for absenteeism. But I did not think twice about dismissing them. I wasn’t rebellious. I was young and self-centered and unimpressed. I simply didn’t appreciate the difference between a jury summons and junk mail, such as letters from Ed McMahon claiming I had won a million dollars.

I revised my notions a few weeks later when I received a phone call from the Clerk of Court and a stern female voice—the voice of an angry schoolteacher—inquired why I shouldn’t be prosecuted for contempt of court. I mumbled something about having felt sick lately. I suppose the woman took pity on me (or maybe her primary role was that of ga...

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