Jury duty is often described as the highest form of civic service, with ordinary citizens stepping into the courtroom to safeguard fairness and justice. Yet behind the patriotic framing lies a truth we rarely acknowledge: Jury duty can, in certain cases, pose a profound mental health risk.
On the one hand, jury service is essential to democracy. On the other, it can expose everyday people to experiences that leave psychological scars. As a mental health attorney who has provided guidance to individuals and families struggling with challenging diagnoses for decades, and as someone who has served as a juror myself, I’ve long grappled with this paradox.
Jurors receive no training or mental health support
Unlike judges, attorneys, or law enforcement officers, jurors receive no training or mental health support to help steel themselves against what they may hear or see. They are not professionals, nor are they merely observers. They are citizens who may find themselves compelled to sit through testimony about violent crimes, child abuse, or other disturbing events. They are shown images and details they cannot unsee or unhear, and they are expected to absorb it all with stoicism—bound by a prohibition against discussing the case until deliberations begin.
That silence, meant to protect the integrity of the legal proceeding, often compounds the harm. It is not unusual for jurors to report sleeplessness, intrusive thoughts, nightmares, or the feeling that images from the trial replay in their minds. In some cases, the fallout mirrors the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Some jurors struggle with guilt or anguish for years, particularly in cases involving a death sentence or the release of a defendant they believed to be dangerous. Others find their faith in institutions, or even in their own judgment, deeply shaken.
Proactive support systems can make a world of difference
What makes this even more troubling is that so much of it is preventable. We know from decades of research into trauma and crisis response that proactive support systems can make a world of difference. Soldiers, first responders, and even journalists who cover war zones often receive some form of mental health training or post-exposure debriefing. Jurors, in contrast, are largely left to fend for themselves.
Some courts have taken steps in the right direction. A few jurisdictions now offer counseling hotlines for jurors after a trial concludes. Others provide access to mental health professionals for high-profile or especially graphic cases. These are encouraging developments, but they are exceptions rather than norms. Too often, jurors still are dismissed at the end of a trial with a perfunctory “Thank you for your service,” their well-being treated as an afterthought.
It doesn’t have to be this way. Imagine a system where potential jurors are screened not only for biases that could compromise impartiality but also for vulnerabilities that might make service in a disturbing case especially harmful. Imagine if, before exposing jurors to weeks of graphic testimony, courts provided even a brief orientation on stress management techniques, common trauma responses, and resources available for support. Imagine if judges normalized the idea that mental health is part of juror welfare, offering breaks or check-ins when the material becomes overwhelming. None of these measures would compromise the fairness of a trial. In fact, they would likely strengthen it. A juror who is overwhelmed, traumatized, or dissociating is not in the best position to weigh evidence and deliberate responsibly.
Critics may dismiss these concerns as overprotective. But minimizing psychological fallout is not coddling; it is recognizing harm that is real, measurable, and avoidable. Civic duty may require the sacrifice of time and convenience, but it should not demand the sacrifice of mental health in service of a system that could easily do better. If we accept that civic duty requires sacrifice, let it be the sacrifice of time and convenience rather than psychological well-being.
For those who have already served on disturbing cases, resources do exist. Primary care physicians, employee assistance programs, and bar associations can make referrals. The National Center for PTSD offers guidance on symptoms and treatments. Some communities have even piloted support groups for former jurors where confidentiality and shared understanding provide much-needed relief.
In my mental health law practice, we have begun to see some of these experiences as part of the comprehensive intakes we offer. Many of the same tools and guidance we use are brought to bear in these cases as well.
The next time I receive a summons, I will, of course, appear, as is my responsibility. But I will also continue advocating for courts to recognize the hidden toll of jury duty and to treat jurors as whole human beings, not disposable instruments of justice. Protecting their mental health protects the very integrity of our judicial system.