By Renae Brabham 

I filled out the questionnaire, gave all of the reasons I am a terrible choice to serve, sealed the envelope and put in the mailbox.

I won’t lie, when the juror summons arrived in the mail in December, I grumbled a little. I've been called upon so many times since we moved to Colleton County. I let it sit on the counter for a few weeks unopened. 

After the New Year I began to hear the rumblings of the impending trial of Richard Alex Murdaugh. When I opened the letter, I knew right away that it was different than the civil court jury duty requests I had received in the past. The questionnaire and the letter from the judge pretty much solidified that it was for the "Trial of the Century" as some have deemed it in SC.

I filled out the questionnaire, gave all of the reasons I am a terrible choice to serve, sealed the envelope and put in the mailbox. That was the end of that, I thought. 

But — here I am, headed off to the Colleton County Courthouse on a cold January morning. 

I gave the courthouse the proverbial call for juror information on Friday after 6 p.m. before the pool was supposed to appear on Monday. My jaw dropped when it said all jurors are required to appear. I noted all of the disqualifiers that I put down on paper and said, "Damn, they need help more than Bojangles if they want me." 

First and foremost, I was the victim of a violent crime resulting in a hung jury, reduced charges but heavy sentencing for the perpetrator.

Second, I participated in programs to provide the nascent beginning of The Victims Assistance Program. Notably I almost rode the elevator to the courtroom with the perpetrator.

Third, I had what wasn’t named at that time as PTSD in certain situations for years after the offense. 

Fourth, I am one-half of the payroll for our cabinet painting business and cannot afford to rearrange our schedule for a month.

The clerks of court are accommodating, and one is downright entertaining.

There are more disqualifiers that I won't list but each one is significant for exclusion to be granted if judged alone. 

All of the above and unmentioned render me to be empathetic to supposed victims more than to the accused offenders of violent crimes.

But — here I am, headed off to the Colleton County Courthouse on a cold January morning. 

Being tipped off that parking may be an issue, I arrive at 7:30 a.m. Now let me tell you what, it was Derry'ish, you fans of Stephen King and the movie “IT” will get that. Not yet full light when I pull in, the county parking lot looks like the circus has come to town, one Neon sign caught my eye that read, "Funnel Cakes." 

We joke about different things but are always respectful and mindful of the seriousness of the matter that brings us together.

I park across from the food truck corral. Music is playing, food prep is underway and the smell of coffee greets me. I purposely avoid road drainage grates expecting a clown at any turn. I make it to the crosswalk in front of the courthouse and see protesters gathering with signs. I don’t try to read them and look for the easiest way to avoid cameras and reporters. Jurors are accumulating in front of the courthouse, and I join them. Some are chirpy, some silent, some frozen, some grumbling and two are a little too quiet. A sheriff comes out and asks if we are all jurors and the two quiet ones nod no and are kicked to the curb. Infiltrators, press. Can't blame them, just trying to get the scoop. Word in the huddle is that there were over 900 jury summonses sent out. Y'all, that is 2.43% of the population of Colleton County.

I am grateful when they allow us inside and out of the cold, even more so to find the first selection would be approximately 200 in alphabetical order. I'm a B, Thank God, I'm a B!! It doesn’t take long in the smaller group in a room to find out that I didn't corner the market in material for exclusion. The economy is the biggest deciding factor for the group. I hear different stories on how much the compensation is, of course I always knew it to be a token of appreciation more than a monetary compensation, but I know that the people around me are bread winners. We joke about different things but are always respectful and mindful of the seriousness of the matter that brings us together. There seems to also be a sense of honor in being selected even if we cannot serve. 

We watch the comings and goings of every type of law enforcement you can imagine because we are across from the security room, and we can see dozens of security cameras on the wall when the door opens. It is the first time I think about safety but shake it off. I believe we are in more danger of having a reporter’s microphone chip a tooth or bust our nose as we exit than any real danger inside or outside the courtroom. 

I watch as Alex Murdaugh enters the room breezily and seemingly unnoticed.

Next, we move to the courtroom, six or seven rows of church pew style left and right at the back of the courtroom. At the front, the clerks, sheriffs, security and lawyers milled about. Armed sheriffs and undercover security secure the two doors. The clerks of court are accommodating, and one is downright entertaining. I get the feeling if I HAVE to stay, she will make the time go by more easily. 

The doors open and an entourage of fantastically coiffured men and women enter. My jaw drops as what looks like wagons glide by with folders.

It doesn’t take long to figure out which side of the room is which. Laptops and cool fold out laptop tables fill the left side. There are six, yes, six people on the defense side. Also, there are two ladies that aren't part of any particular group it seems on the defense side respectfully behind everyone else who arrived the same time as I did this morning.

The milling about distracts most from the left door of the courtroom as it opens. I watch as Alex Murdaugh enters the room breezily and seemingly unnoticed. My first impression is that he is a lawyer, arriving later than the rest of his team. I am surprised at his demeanor. He greets his defense team, and I am quite sure that I am witnessing the last of the front of his face. I would be staring at his crisp white folded collar and prison barber cut (which was pretty darn good) for the duration of my time there. 

I am taken aback when Murdaugh swivels around to look at each juror as they are called and stand.

Cameras are set up in front of us, and benches are open between the prosecution and the cameras. People are filing in that have press passes, they fill the last two benches and then overflow onto the right side of the courtroom, pads and pens in hand. They begin to carve out their stories, others watch, while a few of them stand to count jurors and make notes. Some jot down each juror # as it is called and list their occupation in fast scribble. 

I know after the first names are called and they stand to face the judge to answer questions that I am not going to make it. The anxiety that has been dormant for years starts to surface and I am glad that I am not going to be chosen. My hands are puddles of sweat and my heart is racing.

I am taken aback when Murdaugh swivels around to look at each juror as they are called and stand. It unnerves me.

The excused in various categories are exiting and I realize I have several and decide to take the first that applies. I hand in my juror badge and exit the building. Better people are there to pick up that baton and for that I am grateful. 

I walk by the Funnel Cake food truck on the way to my car.

Let me give you a little speech given to me today that I will never forget. Renee Elvis, Clerk of Court from Horry County, and a volunteer to assist in Colleton, helped jurors by getting water, telling stories and answering questions. One thing she said will always stay with me.

"I work for you. You, from all walks of life, decide the wrongs or rights of our judicial systems. Not the governing bodies of a nation. We are the only country in the world that does this. I appreciate you and thank you for being here." 

She did add that she has been corrected since but not verified that Canada also has nearly the same judicial system. 

I walk by the Funnel Cake food truck on the way to my car. As much as I love them, they don't feel right for the occasion. Fairs are for fun.

^{Editor's note: Image credit by Aneese Collection: iStock / Getty Images Plus}