What jury service taught me about communications

‘Jury.

‘Service.

‘Service: now what does that really mean?

‘Duty. Obligation. Responsibility.’

So began the defence barrister’s two-day closing statement of my eleven-week jury service. Ladies and gentlemen, it was as dramatic as it sounds.

And he didn’t let up. The next ten minutes read like a ‘Rhetoric for dummies’ contents page.

He took his time, glaring at each of us individually as he asked: ‘So, ladies and gentlemen, what have you learnt during jury service?’

He brought us on side with his response, quipping: ‘Well, aside from the perils of queuing’ (a courtroom in-joke). 

He reminded us of his wide-ranging knowledge and authority: Jane Austen on ‘manners’ in one breath and the Guardian’s 1986 advert compelling us to look at ‘the whole picture’ in the next.

But did it work? Reader, it did.

The performance of the QCs for both defence and prosecution was just this: a performance. And it was better than any Netflix. Every day was a new episode, every closing question a cliff hanger.

My experience of jury service ranged from the bizarre – the lengthy questioning about exactly how deep in the laundry pile a dog is likely to bury his head – to the deeply troubling and profoundly sad – determining whether to strip another individual of their freedom. 

As both someone building a career in communications, but also a millennial seeking ‘purpose’ in my working life, I will confess I have often asked my colleague, Chris Wilkins, – in my most facetious moments – ‘but what even is communications?’ Only for him to look at me in despair, ‘But Imogen, comms is everything.’

I understood what he meant in theory – communication is the basis on which our societies and workplaces operate. The best ideas in the world will flounder if not communicated correctly; teams cannot operate if they cannot engage in honest and open dialogue; and leaders lead by articulating a vision to bring people along with them.

But it was only during the tensest moments in court, with the jury’s opinion balanced on a precipice between Guilty or Not, when you felt a collective intake of breath, that I saw in painful relief that communication really is everything.

The tiniest slip of a preposition – ‘it was bought by or bought for them?’ – planted a seed of doubt as to whether the defendant was at the crime scene. A rising intonation - ‘But I didn’t leave that night’ - in a recorded phone call suggested an alibi cooked up after the fact.

A courtroom is a microcosm of our society. Leaders are made, prejudices are played out, influence is exerted, credibility won and lost – all on the basis of language, speech, intonation.

Whether it is a matter of leading an organisation to commercial success or convincing 12 laypeople of your innocence, good communication is, quite literally, everything.

Written by Imogen Beecroft, Head of Client Services at Audley