As a journalist, it is paramount that I set aside personal thoughts and shun the natural biases in which we are all steeped. And so it was an abrupt intrusion into my mindset when I reported for jury duty Monday, March 18.

Despite my intimate relationship with this region’s news, I was one of 12 people ultimately selected to sit on the jury. The case – a man charged with attempted assault of a peace officer, obstruction of a peace officer and methamphetamine possession – was nothing that I nor anyone at The Durango Herald had covered.

The selection process is both arduous and a fascinating examination of the biases and hardship found in everyday America.

One after another, potential jurors stood forth and declared why they were unfit for jury duty. One had strep throat; one had been a criminal defendant before and said he could not overlook his bias against members of law enforcement; another defiantly stated that she would seek the maximum punishment for the defendant if he were under the influence of an illegal substance during the incident in question because her best friend was killed in a drug-related crime. One by one, they were each thanked and dismissed.

And I, when asked, stated truthfully that it was not a hardship for me to serve on this jury and that I had no preexisting biases in favor of or against law enforcement or individuals with face tattoos, such as the defendant. But more than that, I was willing and able to suspend my own internal inclination to determine guilt and consider only the facts as they relate to the defined charges.

And suddenly, my practice in setting aside bias and examining sources of information with rigor – the stuff good journalists do every day – was useful. I was Juror 11.

Waiting in the jury room the following morning, one juror pointed out what nearly everyone in the group seemed to have thought: we weren’t exactly a jury of this man’s peers. We were mostly, if not entirely, white; the defendant was Latino. The one prospective juror who had lived experience with serious addiction, as the defendant was implied to have, was dismissed from the group.

In the course of covering court proceedings, we journalists glean relevant details from testimony. But the decisions we report on are made by a judge or jury. My seat in the jury box, however, was entirely foreign. I’m practiced at reporting on a defendant’s guilt, not determining it.

A towering prosecutor told us we would see the defendant “take numerous substantial steps” toward assaulting a police officer when he approached in a boxer’s stance. We of the jury saw a rapid interaction – 10 seconds or so according to the police officer’s own testimony – in which the intoxicated defendant, a heavyset man of slight stature, appeared disoriented. Whether his hand motions were meant to threaten the officer or adjust his clothing was never exactly clear.

The prosecution rested by Monday evening after calling four witnesses and I returned home. The questions I asked myself that night and the following morning were not unlike those I have to ask in the course of reporting a delicate story. Were my sources of information reliable? What were their motivations? What biases do they have? Can I trust them, in part or in full?

My fellow jurors and I returned to the courthouse Tuesday morning and were released for two hours. When we entered the courtroom around 10 a.m., the judge informed us that the defendant pleaded guilty to the least serious of the charges, obstructing a peace officer, and the other two charges were dismissed.

As I left the courthouse with a lingering feeling of disappointment, I resolved that it was for the best that we never began deliberations. I didn’t have to force myself to draw the sorts of conclusions I try to avoid in my work. Instead, I sat and practiced the suspension of my own predispositions for a day, before walking back to the newsroom to start work on my next story.

Reuben Schafir is a staff writer at The Durango Herald. He can be reached at rschafir@durangoherald.com