The flick of a light switch can signal a life-changing decision has been made

I’ve spent many hours watching darkened light bulbs, waiting for them to be switched on.

They signal uncertainty — and continued waiting.

Often after hearing days of testimony, Bibb County’s trial jurors are ushered into a room where they make life-changing decisions.

Whether it’s deciding if a person goes to prison for committing a crime or the resolution to a civil dispute, jurors’ debates happen behind closed doors.

All the outside world can do is watch a single light bulb posted in each Bibb County courtroom. The flick of a switch controlling that light bulb can signal that a life-changing decision has been made.

Someone, typically a bailiff, is tasked with watching for the light bulb to illuminate — either red or blue depending on the courtroom — alerting courthouse staffers that the jury either has a question or a verdict.

I’ve seen the light switch on just minutes after jurors have left the courtroom — even before they’ve had time for a restroom break.

That could signal jurors have a question, want a lunch break or want to listen to an audio recording again that had been played at trial.

But sometimes, it means they’ve made a decision.

The quickest verdict I can recall was in 2013 when jurors took about 13 minutes to convict a Macon man of striking a woman in the head with a brick, raping her and robbing her inside a College Street apartment.

In other cases, the light bulb has flashed multiple times while jurors hashed out cases for several hours or even days, especially during complicated cases as they asked to watch a video multiple times or sought clarification in the law.

I was only half joking during a recent trial when I asked a bailiff if anyone had checked to make sure the bulb was still functioning. As little use as they get compared to a normal lamp, they’ve still got to burn out sometime, right?

When the waiting is long, the saying that a watched pot never boils often pops into my mind.

I find myself trying not to stare at the bulb, willing it to flash on.

The suspense of what’s going on behind the closed jury room door is real.

Because I sit in the courtroom hearing the same evidence as jurors, people often ask me how long I think the jury will deliberate.

In my nearly 10 years of watching Bibb County trials, I’ve learned that estimates are just that, pure guesses.

It’s hard to know how a group of strangers will react when they’re faced with weighty decisions.

They take the time they feel they need.

Our justice system depends on it.

This story was originally published October 12, 2016 at 1:54 PM with the headline "The flick of a light switch can signal a life-changing decision has been made."