Being a reporter in a courtroom is a real eye-opener but it didn't prepare one journalist for the impact of being part of the drama. Reporter ANDREW NAPIER, twice excused in the past, offers a personal account of his experience...

IT ended in an avoidable fiasco that wasted thousands of pounds of money funded by the taxpayer (ie you).

But it was also a satisfying experience that more Hampshire people than ever before will take part in.

It was jury service at Winchester Crown Court.

I was summoned to sit on a jury to determine the guilt or innocence of an alleged sex attacker from Basingstoke.

Twelve strangers, we assembled at the Law Courts and were marshalled, chivvied, escorted and then selected.

We diligently listened as the case was outlined to us and witnesses called.

But after two days, the case collapsed, suddenly and irrecovably - for an entirely avoidable reason. It meant a large sum of public money was wasted, dozens of people inconvenienced, and perhaps most importantly, the victim had to face the whole process again.

No one can doubt the efficient running of a system with scores of people every day sitting as jurors but the breakdown was an example of how the legal system, despite protestations to the contrary, is still not as user-friendly as it might be.

The judge told us to "try the evidence on what you hear in court". Short and sweet but rather vague.

Our trial collapsed because one keen and seemingly intelligent juror went too far in an attempt to be helpful.

The trial had heard that a vital piece of information was missing. But neither the prosecution nor the defence counsel had sought to find out the facts, the jury was told.

But a juror had brought his laptop computer to the court building and in a break had surfed the Internet and found information that he thought would be useful.

Before I could explain that it might not be a good idea, the juror had told an usher, the court official who looks after each jury.

Within minutes the jury summoning officer had spoken to the juror and asked him to wait in another room. I don't think she locked the door but the intention was clear. He must not be allowed to speak to the rest of us.

Then we were all called back into court, where the judge simply told us that something had happened that made it impossible for the trial to continue.

There was no other explanation and with that we were discharged. Ten jurors baffled and one secretly squirming in embarrassment.

The juror had acted in good faith and was simply trying to help fill what he though was an important gap in the case.

In the 21st century, especially in this age of instant communications and the Internet, jurors should be explicitly warned against such freelance investigations.

No judge is going to put the idea into people's heads but their warnings would stop many from going off and doing their own thing.

The court system still seems to have an automatic and perhaps unconscious reflex to tell people the minimum necessary. The less said the better is the mantra.

It forgets that the vast majority of people will have no knowledge of how it works. You simply receive a letter ordering you to report on such and such a date. With the call comes a short guide, and at court you watch a video explaining some of the process.

Then you are thrown into making perhaps the most important decision in a defendant's life.

I was never called to serve on another jury during my two-week stint, and spent a lot of time looking out of the window across the rooftops of Winchester.

But I found the experience interesting, useful, disconcerting and also humbling.

Disconcerting in that for 15 years I have reported many trials at Winchester, including those of Rosemary West and Bruce Grobbelaar and many murders, rapes, robberies, thefts and drug offences.

Every time I have been comfortably seated in the press box or public gallery. This time instead of being a passive observer I was part of the "drama".

So it was a strange experience - like being a fan on the terraces of St Mary's and called down on the pitch to act as linesman, or a theatre critic pulled from the aisles to dance in the chorus.

I was able to see all the corridors and rooms that are usually barred to the public and saw the fascinating legal process from a new angle.

I learned something I didn't know. It is much harder to concentrate when watching people give evidence via a TV video link, as some of the witnesses did, than when they are actually in the courtroom.

But it was also humbling because there are millions of people around the world who are denied the basic right of a fair trial.

And in this country in past centuries, people struggled for the right to a jury trial. More than a million Britons in two World Wars gave their lives to defend the freedom of which jury trials are a crucial part.

It is easy to take it for granted. Without sounding too pompous, being a juror reminds one that we should have "civic duties" to society - like not letting your dog foul the pavement, giving up your seat on a train to an elderly person and, yes, voting.