"Last week, likely for the first time in our history, we held no jury trials—not in my courtroom or in any other courtroom across the country."

That's how Judge Roy Altman starts this piece, "What we lose with jury trials on hold," in The Dispatch.  The whole thing is definitely worth a read.  Here's how it starts out:

Last week, likely for the first time in our history, we held no jury trials—not in my courtroom or in any other courtroom across the country. We have had jury trials, in every state in the union, for hundreds of years—since before we ratified the Constitution, before Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. The jury trial is part of the fabric of who we are as a nation: John Adams first became famous for representing British soldiers before a Boston jury; Hamilton and Burr first grew to loathe each other in front of a New York jury; and Lincoln first perfected his plainspoken prose “riding circuit” with the judges and juries of rural Illinois. We will miss our jury trials—now more than ever—because they are, as Adams once called them, the “heart and lungs” of our democracy.
In political elections, our individual vote gets drowned out in a sea of thousands, or tens of thousands, or—in the context of presidential politics—even tens of millions of votes. But, in the jury room, as anyone who has ever seen 12 Angry Men knows, every vote counts—and not just as one vote out of 12. Because a jury’s verdict must (in most cases) be unanimous, in the jury room, any one vote counts as much as all the other votes combined. And that’s true whether the holdout vote is black or white, rich or poor, religious or agnostic.
In my courtroom, when I pick juries, I make it a point to look into the jurors’ faces as I call out their names. And, invariably, I see one unambiguous emotion imprinted there: horror. How—they seem to be thinking to themselves—could I have been this unlucky? Why—out of this cobbled-together collection of human beings—did this judge pick me? But, by the end of the trial, when I go back into the jury room to hand the jurors’ their certificates, and to thank them for their service to their community, I gaze into their faces again. And, this time, I inevitably see an entirely different emotion there—and that is gratitude. Why? Because, however toxic our politics might become—however much the national mood makes us feel as though we’re divided beyond repair—jury service reminds everyday people of how vibrant and alive our democracy truly is.

In other feel good news, you *have* to watch this graduation movie that UM Professor Ricardo Bascuas put together. It is truly incredible:

The law school asked faculty for short videos to mark graduation. Mine is a stringcite to key life lessons and a toast to our #ClassOf2020. #WeDontNeedRoads #WereAlreadyThere #LifeMovesPrettyFast #TakePleasureInTheDetails #BeExcellentToEachOther #DontGetCocky #DontCrossTheStreams pic.twitter.com/Ga7MFknn0k

— Ricardo Bascuas (@rbascuas) May 6, 2020

Finally, I wonder whether this was one of the advocates or one of the Justices.  Either way, I hope this doesn't happen to you during your next telephonic argument, let alone one in the Supreme Court:

LISTEN: Toilet flush during U.S. Supreme Court oral argument (h/t @nicninh) pic.twitter.com/He3QGMzvJI

— Jeremy Art (@cspanJeremy) May 6, 2020