A year ago, I received in the mail the dreaded beige card from Cobb County summoning me to jury duty. It was the second time in several years. As a small-business owner, the last place in the world I needed to be was on jury duty.

Cobb County could not have been more amiable in allowing me to postpone service, but the ominous final e-mail stated "we will not be able to postpone your jury duty again." With newspapers and books in hand, I reported one recent Monday morning for what would turn out to be a firsthand lesson in our legal system.

My name was called in the first round, a civil case involving a minor traffic accident very close to my house.

State court judge David Darden explained to us the process and that it would likely be a three-day trial, although what unfolded before me was anything but what I expected.

The details of the case are immaterial. Suffice it to say it was an exceptionally minor traffic accident and personal injury claim.

To endure three days of the driest, most boring testimony from doctors on recorded video and a few living, breathing witnesses is tougher than I can relay. Had my mother been near, there is no doubt I would have been reprimanded to sit still.

By Wednesday night, we had heard all the testimony, and were instructed to return Thursday morning to begin deliberations.

Strict instructions by the judge to not discuss the case left my wife curious and insulted. I had not only sworn to a very friendly judge, but more importantly, I had given my word, a trait my parents instilled in me as a young man and something I have never wavered on.

Many other facets of my parents' tutelage would come into use during this trial. After hearing the evidence, there was no doubt in my mind that we would easily find for the defendant. The case was rife with holes and inconsistencies. I agreed with many of my fellow jurors that the plaintiff's legal team had done a poor job of presenting the case. Most likely, there was no real reason for the suit to have been filed.

Thursday morning in the jury room, I was elected foreman, and in short order, having discussed it briefly, we voted.

Imagine how surprised we were to find that three of our "peers" felt there were sufficient grounds to award damages. A fourth juror was wavering.

So began what had to be two of the most brutal days of negotiating I have ever undertaken.

To be in a small, warm, windowless room with the omnipresent odor of burned coffee discussing, arguing, debating and examining minute details of an event 3 1/2 years past and its supposed repercussions with 11 strangers was a new experience for me. This went on for two solid days.

Several of us, falling back on the character instilled by our parents, would not waiver from our convictions. We were adamant that the defendant's actions were not responsible for the plaintiff's health issues. The evidence did not show it, and we were not willing to bend. The three who were opposing us offered little support for their convictions. From noon Thursday to late Friday afternoon, we got nowhere. Several notes to Darden regarding our stalemate resulted in us being marched back into the courtroom for a pep talk, and then back to the jury room we went.

There is no doubt that several jury members had personal agendas. As Friday afternoon wore down and tempers flared, jurors began to waver. But several of us refused to budge, and so did the opposing side.

Late Friday afternoon, I sent a final note to Darden, and he declared a mistrial.

We were ushered into the courtroom for a final direction and his thanks and to be dismissed.

I was surprised to see the defendant weeping tears of distress, a most disturbing and unpleasant scene, especially since I had thought our lack of a verdict would be to her benefit.

As it turns out, all we had done is make her life more miserable.

Instead of walking away with this likely frivolous lawsuit behind her, she will have to come back and do it all over in six months.

Perhaps she will win next time, perhaps she will lose, but the sheer weight of this horrible experience is now hanging over her still, instead of being over and done with.

In talking to the various lawyers after the trial, I adamantly told the plaintiff's attorneys that they had no case and that they should drop it, and I told the defense lawyer where he should have looked or questioned further.

But I feel miserable at my own performance. I failed myself and my fellow jurors by not being able to mediate some sort of agreement. I failed Darden, who had charged us with reaching a conclusion. I failed the defendant and the plaintiff for the same reasons. And I failed the citizens of the county in that this will now become more of a cost burden on our society at a time when austerity is more needed than ever.

My failure means there will likely be another frivolous suit tried, more costs for the court, and higher premiums on our auto insurance.

I was not a proud man walking into my home on Friday night to tell my wife of the week's events.

But as I reflect on it today, I do not see how I could have done anything else than what I did.

> Tex Pitfield is president and CEO of Saraguay Petroleum, a fuel distribution company in Atlanta.