It's an unseasonably hot fall afternoon and, like many retired couples, Ed and Harriett Neufeld need something to do to pass the time.
"Do you want drug distribution or armed robbery?" Harriett, 77, asks Ed, 79, as they plan their afternoon in Rockville.
"Whatever you want, honey," Ed replies hurriedly before running back to the couple's car to drop off his jacket, his wife poring intently over the day's docket at the Montgomery County Circuit Court.
The Neufelds aren't some kind of geriatric Bonnie and Clyde deciding on their next crime. They are, as they put it, "the 13th and 14th jurors." Every week, the Neufelds leave their Leisure World retirement community in Aspen Hill to follow their favorite hobby: watching lawyers argue real-life court cases as defendants' lives hang in the balance.
"It's better than television, I'll tell you that much," Ed said in their apartment last week, starting their day as they usually do, working crossword puzzles over coffee before making their weekly trip to court.
For the past 14 years, since Ed retired as a civil engineer, the Neufelds have watched nearly 1,000 court cases for their own entertainment. Their post-retirement hobby derives from their courtship in New York City when both were in their 20s, and Ed was looking for a cheap date. Because courtrooms are open to the public, the two would walk into night court after work or class and see whatever real-life court drama awaited them.
Bringing murderers, rapists and drug dealers into a courtship was a risky move for Ed, but Harriett, an aspiring lawyer at the time, "thought it was a wonderful idea." They've been married for 55 years.
Last week, after a morning spent watching the sentencing of a murderer's accomplice and then a wealthy couple settling a messy divorce, they decide a drug-distribution case would be a nice way to spend their afternoon.
As they arrived, a police officer was on the stand describing a drug deal he said went down 14 feet in front of him in a Gaithersburg parking lot in broad daylight. The officer said he saw the defendant hand a bag with a green substance in it to a client, who handed back a $10 bill, which the officer identified because of the brown spots specific to new U.S. currency.
On the ride home after the trial broke for recess — the trial wasn't exciting enough for the Neufelds to stay for the outcome — Ed and Harriett held their own version of jury deliberation. Ed took the defendant's side: From 14 feet away, the officer couldn't have made out that $10 bill, he said. Harriett believed the officer, and decided to prove it from the passenger seat.
"You couldn't see this from 14 feet away?" she asked, pulling a $20 bill from her wallet and holding it in the air.
"No! Not the brown spots!" Ed shot back.
While it appears the Neufelds — at least on the surface — find real people's legal matters trivial, they say there are moments when they realize the enormous weight of the court proceedings for everyone involved.
During one such moment, Harriett's eyes welled with tears as she listened to a mother plead with a judge to give her son — who drove the getaway car in a murder — a lenient sentence. The woman broke down when she described how hard she worked to keep her son out of trouble.
"When you sit there, you see these people are on trial for their lives," Ed said. "Not necessarily life and death, but just the prospect of spending 10 or 15 years in prison."
"I can't imagine that," Harriett said, shuddering.
Although Ed and Harriett always had an interest in law, neither pursued legal careers. Now, in the twilight of their lives, they are making up for lost time.
Harriett will soon begin volunteering with juveniles going through the justice system. For nine years, Ed volunteered with the Montgomery County State's Attorney's Office as a "case screener," interviewing officers, witnesses and family members to help prosecutors prepare for trials.
"Ed carried as much of a case load as any law student," said Barbara Morales, the intern coordinator for the state's attorney's office.
As he walks through the courthouse, Ed smiles, greeting everyone from security guards to high-ranking prosecutors, all of whom rib him with some playful version of, "You're here again?" Even though he often calls them "actors putting on a show," he offers glowing praise for the judges, the lawyers and the county court system as a whole.
"I love this place!" he says out of nowhere, while strolling through the courthouse. "This is what America's all about. Liberty and justice for all."
Correction: The original version of this story listed an incorrect location for Leisure World.
