Just call me 078628.

For a brief time Monday, that number was my name as a member of the jury pool for the Michael Jackson molestation trial.

Random sampling had nabbed me, among the some 750 prospective jurors for what one prosecutor dubbed the trial of the ages.

One by one, we filed into the Jury Assembly Building, some carrying books to read, others clutching coffee cups to counteract the 8 a.m. reporting time.

"I must be the only person who doesn/t want to be here," one lady said before sharing with her row-mates that it was her birthday.

During long periods of waiting, some prospective jurors simply talked. Others caught a cat-nap.

There was little doubt what this was for, but a court official confirmed it: we were part of "The People of the State of California vs Michael Joe Jackson."

Most of the time, jurors haven/t a clue about the defendant. Of course, this is far from the typical case, despite everyone/s attempts to act otherwise.

Surprisingly, officials didn/t make any warnings about avoiding comments as we went through the process. Some people read newspapers previewing the hoopla surrounding the case.

One would-be juror loudly proclaimed his plans to write a book.

"He is weird," another man said of Jackson.

A third commented that Jackson can/t seem to decide on his color and made remarks about a "vendetta" from the District Attorney/s Office.

The Jury Services Office had recruited help from neighboring San Luis Obispo County to handle the hordes, but still ran behind schedule as they coped with the unusual crowd.

We viewed a short film about what to expect from jury service.

Upon arrival, court staff confirmed we were in the right

locale and handed out plastic ID holders to display our numeric names and the word "juror" through the small square window.

A jury services official explained the numbers as a way to shield identities and shelter us from the gaggle of media (ouch).

After a break, court officials took attendance and made us stash all our purses, tote bags and other items in a brown bag with a plastic baggie stapled on it and blue raffle ticket that would help us retrieve our identities. A court decorum order banned any purses, cell phones or most other items from being carried into the courtroom.

Finally, two hours after arriving, we were on the move, shuffled to the courtroom as crowds hidden from sight chanted "Michael is innocent."

In the front of the courtroom, decked out in a vibrant white, Michael Jackson stood, facing us as attorneys flanked him. The much-photographed entertainer moved his lips to a smile as we entered. His attorneys made eye contact with several, and smiled..

The judge-turned-professor reminded that jury duty is the responsibility of American citizenship, a reason so many have died fighting for freedom.

After asking those with hardship pleas to remain, nearly two-thirds left to fill out questionnaires

One by one, the remainder asked Judge Rodney Melville for a deferment, most of us unable to live for six months without our salaries. Somehow, ,15 a day for jury duty just won/t cover the basics of living on the Central Coast for six months.

With little comment, Melville heard the litany of pleas before dismissing us to return to the assembly room to learn our fates. For the most part, Melville granted 60-day deferrals to another case, a shorter trial.

Free at last, we shuffled next door where court workers shouted last names so we could reclaim lives crammed into brown bags .

"This is like the airport," one jury candidate said..

A court official cringed at the chaos, pledging we wouldn/t have to go through this process the next time we arrived for jury duty.

Just another not-so-normal day of the new normalcy at the Santa Maria courthouse.

* Associate Editor Janene Scully can be reached at 739-2214 or by e-mail at janscully@pulitzer.net.

Feb. 2, 2005