Not Everything Is Trying for Simpson Jury

Ladies and gentlemen of the O.J. Simpson jury, here is your private ice cream stock. And your special “Melrose Place” episodes. And your free concerts. And . . .

Let’s just say that three weeks into the Simpson murder trial, it appears that not all juries are created equal.

In fact, not that they don’t deserve it, but before it’s all over, jurors in one of the most celebrated cases in American jurisprudence may be the most accommodated and most indulged group of dicasts ever.

“We give them whatever we can; we want to keep them happy,” said Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Sgt. George Smith, whose job it is to do so.

“This is going to be a long trial, and we don’t want to lose them,” Smith said Wednesday as he put the finishing touches on arrangements for tonight’s complimentary Roger Williams piano concert for his 12 famous, if furtive, charges, and nine alternate jurors.

Concerts, a private suite at the courthouse, weekend excursions at taxpayer expense--such is the relatively luxurious life of the most waited-on jury in America. It’s enough to give the thousands of jurors who serve in garden-variety criminal cases a touch of jury envy.

But just as in any good legal case, there’s a flip side: Pampering and perks aside, this group may be the most scrutinized, most monitored, most studied, most psychoanalyzed bunch to grace a jury box.

In court by day and sequestered in an undisclosed hotel by night, they are almost never without the company of a sheriff’s deputy. If one isn’t actually in the room with them, then the deputy is never far away.

“They can’t come or go without us seeing,” said Smith, who oversees about a dozen deputies who provide around-the-clock security for the jury.

The music they listen to?

If it’s a CD, a deputy must listen to it first to make sure that there are no references to Simpson or the trial or anything else that could improperly influence them.

If it’s the radio, a deputy must listen simultaneously to be able to shut the radio off at the slightest hint of any objectionable material.

The books they read?

Must be reviewed by a deputy.

The movies they watch?

Ditto.

Phone calls?

As many as they want, but they’re all monitored.

They get to visit with their families as often as possible, especially on weekends. But aside from conjugal visits, other jurors and their families are nearby, as are their badge-carrying sentinels.

If it’s any consolation, they do get to sleep and shower alone.

Beyond that, every move these jurors make seems subject to interpretation by the lawyers in the case, not to mention the army of “expert” analysts looking in from Los Angeles to Lithuania, even though TV doesn’t let them see the jury. Was that a wince, a twinge of emotion, or a harmless twitch?

Just last weekend, prosecutors raised questions about a juror who paused to stare at photographs of the defendant and gridiron great during a tour of his home. Was it a case of Simpson admiration or mere curiosity?

The microscopic attention has led to a measure of sympathy and extra efforts to keep the jury content, from Ito and ordinary citizens alike.

Take pianist Williams, he of “Born Free,” “The Impossible Dream” and 18 gold albums. He offered to give a private concert for jurors--at an undisclosed location, of course--because of his concern for their lengthy sequestration.

“I was thinking geez, these poor people. They won’t have any TV, they won’t have any radio, they won’t have the paper,” Williams said. “I up and wrote a short note to Judge Ito saying, ‘Hey, if I could come in and take a little pressure off the jury, I’ll do it.’ ”

Ito quickly accepted the offer and, describing himself as “a great fan” of Williams, asked to attend tonight’s concert as well, the musician said.

Williams, whose repertoire includes more than 10,000 songs, said he will take requests from the jury during his private, hourlong performance.

“I can’t wait to find out what these people want to hear,” Williams said. “This is my way of saying thank you to them.”

During the day at the courthouse, the jurors spend their breaks in a private lounge, hidden from the public and the media, while jurors from other cases mingle with the mob outside.

Since the jurors are not allowed to frequent the courthouse snack bar, the lounge has a well-stocked refrigerator, complete with snacks, sodas, tea, orange juice--and an abundant supply of chocolate ice cream bars. “They get ice cream, almost on a weekly basis,” Sheriff’s Deputy John Castro said.

Back at the hotel, they enjoy a private game room, complete with cards, chess, Monopoly and unlimited videos. And after some jurors expressed disappointment in not being able to follow “Melrose Place,” Ito approved showings of specially screened episodes of the popular TV show.

“They watched the NFL playoff games, they watched the Super Bowl,” Smith said. “Some of them have their own portable exercise machines. They do a lot of walking; some run. But ever since the trial’s started, they’ve been tired at night.”

Then there’s the always sensitive issue of conjugal visits. Special arrangements have been made because of the expected length of the trial--even though sequestered jurors in previous cases, such as the Rodney King case, have endured spousal visits with deputies present.

“If we can make their sequestration more comfortable, it is going to be a benefit to everyone,” said Jo-Ellan Dimitrius, a jury consultant who helped the Simpson defense team with panel selection. “The last thing you want is a jury that is going to be rushing through the deliberation process because they want to get home. That’s why everyone is overextending themselves with this jury.”

The cost of the sequestration and dose of juror generosity, officials estimate: Upward of $500,000.