The Jury’s Out: I’m Guilty Of Having A Mental Illness

Like 2 million other viewers, I tuned in to The Verdict on BBC2 recently, curious to witness the goings-on behind the closed doors of a jury room in a major criminal trial – albeit a fictional one. Unlike most of my fellow viewers, however, I know that I will never be called to sit on such a jury. My mental health status rules me out. My judgment is invalid.

My friend Alec also watched the programme. In fact, we agreed on the verdict. But this was just a coincidence, for while Alec is a rational being who could be summoned for jury service tomorrow, my own considered opinion – at least in so far as the criminal justice system is concerned – has all the credibility of a casually tossed coin.

I might come to court as a victim of crime, or be called as a witness, but in both situations my mental health history will almost certainly be used to discredit my evidence. And I could, of course, stand in the dock myself, to be tried before a jury of my fellow citizens – fellow except that, by definition, none will have shared my experience.

The Verdict did not make for reassuring viewing. Ironically, the deciding vote went to Jeffrey Archer, who changed his verdict to avoid the need for a retrial. Like me, Archer would be barred from jury service in a real trial situation. This is because he has spent time in prison within the last 10 years. Unlike me, at the end of this time, the bar will be lifted and he may yet sit on a jury. I will not.

The criminal justice system website sets out the criteria for eligibility. “Jury service,” it tells me, “is one of the most important civic duties that anyone can be asked to perform.” It is also a duty that “all members of the public are expected to perform”. There follows a list of those presumably excluded from this category. The first criterion is age – you must be over 18 and under 70. The second concerns criminal convictions, and the third and final exclusion covers those with “mental disorders/mental health problems”.

There are four circumstances in which my mental health problems would disqualify me from service. If I am not sure whether these apply to me, I am advised to consult my doctor, or “to ask a family member, friend or neighbour to explain it to me”. I did try knocking on the flat upstairs, but, in my neighbour’s absence, I must do the best I can.

The circumstances appear to be these: if I am in hospital, if I am in guardianship under section 7 of the Mental Health Act, if a judge has decided I am not capable of managing my affairs, or – and here’s the clincher – if I “regularly visit a medical practitioner for treatment”.

I am not suggesting that patients be bussed direct from the wards to the Old Bailey. It seems reasonable that anyone in hospital for whatever reason be excused from jury service. But this is not the situation for me and thousands like me. I am, after all, deemed capable of working and of paying my taxes – taxes that pay for the judge and the lawyers and the sandwiches the jurors eat.

I see my psychiatrist maybe four times a year and visit my GP for prescriptions. I take medication daily and have come to accept that I probably always will. I don’t consider myself to be ill, but I do have a condition that needs regular treatment, in much the same way as a diabetic needs insulin. Without my neighbour to clarify the matter, I can only assume that this bars me from jury service.

The issue is greater than this. The assumption that those with mental health problems have nothing of value to contribute needs to be challenged. When it comes to employment, the “mentally ill” face more discrimination than any other section of society. Fewer than four in 10 employers would consider employing somebody with a history of mental health problems – a topic not even considered by the Equalities Review report, which lumps all disabled people together in a single category. If the government is committed to fighting stigma, then the jury system would seem a good place to start.

· Clare Allan’s novel, Poppy Shakespeare, is published by Bloomsbury, RRP £7.99. To order a copy with free UK p&p call 0870 836 0875 go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop