Today I Was In Court

Today I Was In Court

Traffic court and it was my fault.

Yes – I had an accident and it was my fault.  Nobody was hurt, except me and my ribs.  Seat belts hurt!!

Oh, I’m a rule follower by near obsession.  I can break rules I think are really stupid, but the seat belt law is not stupid AND I wear a motorcycle helmet whenever riding.  Even in states where it is not a law.  Those are odds I do not wish to test and I thank my Angels.  That seat belt saved my life.

Anyhoo … the accident details aren’t important.  I pleaded no contest to loosing my concentration and taking out a mailbox on a ve-hery  narrow country road.  I got a $60 fine and have to take a driving course.  Stupidity.  That was me.

However, I was scared to death.  Fear and panic racked me.  I have never, in my life been in a real American court.  Like everyone else, I’ve seen hundreds on TV.  But never actually, in real life, been in one.  Wait!  I think I got married in one like fifty some years ago.  ‘Nother story.  “Nother blog.

So my appointment before Hiz Honor was – well I was there an hour early.  Rules.  I’m never been late for anything.  Always early.  I take hardcopy books to the movie theater because I’m often way early. 

As I sit there, four rows in front of my wife, the frog in my throat gets bigger and bigger.  Rising higher and higher.  “Water!” “I need water!” Both water fountains in the court hallway had signs on them that said, “Not working.”  Figures.  I have a theory about that.  You can’t take anti-anxiety medication without a sip of water.  Or, any kind of medication I would assume.  Cuts down on the Court Hallway getting stoked or stoned, as it were.

The bailiff calls out, “All rise.  The Fifth County Court of Hambone County of the State of South Panic is now in session.  Judge Hiram Higgelby presiding.  (Not a real name.  In fact, none of the names I will use are real.)”  A tallish Judgelike thinnish man walks in and sits down behind the Judging place. 

Bailiff says, “Be seated.”

There was one young lady and me and five Police Deputies.  Oh and a real frumpy looking older gentleman who looked like a true frumpy southern lawyer should look.  Frumpness wearing a bow tie.  Really?  A bad suit that wouldn’t button over his lifetime accumulation of southern b-b-q ribs and grits and a bow tie?  Stereotype?  Right down to the tassel loafers.

We all sit down.

Hiz Honor calls out, in a very Judgelike manner, but I have to say actually quite calmly, “Joseph Blow”.  Again not a real name.  We all sit there for what seems like nearly five minutes while nothing happens, except the Judge making notes on some papers and generally being very presiding-like.

A door to the side of the Court Room opens and a Police Officer walks in and stands by the door.  Few minutes later a really tall super skinny guy walks in.  He’s wearing an orange jumpsuit and walking strangely because his ankles are shackled together.  Behind him is another Police Officer holding his elbow – with the intent of great authority, I might add.  So now we have seven Policemen, all of them easily over six feet tall, the bailiff, who must be taller than any of them and he’s also wearing a gun and the utility Batman belt stuff all the Law Officers seem to wear.

Uh, cuffs, mace, Tasers, what all?  Swiss Army knife?

And one very short Policewoman, also Batman belt and a very weird hairdo … kind of like a mushroom.  All poofed up on top and razor trimmed around her ears and neck.  Strange hairdo.  She comes up to about the elbows on the other Law enforcement.  Kind of chunky figure.  Did not look mean though, more officially like.

You could tell she’d been on the force for a while.

The Judge waves the orange jumpsuit up to the bench.  Hiz Honor's place is called “the bench”, right?  A person sits down on a park bench and, somehow, I can barely see over this Judge’s bench.  Judge reads off a list of crimes being considered against the orange jumpsuit.  “Grand Larceny this and Grand Larceny that.  Intention to steal to sell.  Breaking and entering.  Possession of gardening tools without the obvious intent to garden. Etc. etc.”  For nearly another five minutes the Judge reads off all the bad decisions this poor schlub has made.

He stand there – orange jumpsuit guy.  Staring at the Judge like the Judge was a concert poster on the wall and he, orange jumpsuit, couldn’t read.  Confused.  Dazed.  Oddly attentive.  I’m thinking, “That poor schlub should’ve stolen a TV and stayed home to watch it.  He’d be in a lot less trouble.”

So the Judge asks the plaintiff (orange jumpsuit #1) some questions about if he has a job or some source of income and what cars he owns and stuff.  This is to determine if he can afford a lawyer.  Which it seems is if he can’t, Bobby Lee Bowtie Esq. will become his Court Appointed lawyer.  Judge asks plaintiff #1 if this is his choice; a court appointed lawyer.  Mr. Grand Larceny #1 nods his head and apparently the deal is struck and they go to finding a new court date to take the next step, which apparently is another trial.

What hits me at the moment orange jumpsuit #1 and his new lawyer raise their hands to swear the oath to “tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth” is that, yes, in fact, this is real.  This person is not a TV criminal, he is a real life criminal.  Until proven otherwise, he is innocent.  It would seem though, that maybe there is an apparent good reason to believe he actually did break into somebody’s property and steal stuff.  That actually if you ran into him on the street and he felt the need, or simple desire, to hurt you, he would do that.

And the huge tall Officers of the law, and the little one with the mushroom hairdo, would, and could, with possible force, up to and including – shoot bullets, attempt to stop him. 

This is a tiny backwater, backwoods town.  People tend to not lock their houses and to leave the keys in their cars.  Actual crime occurring never struck to me as even being possible.  That only happened within the little magic box of my television and only for 47 minutes at a time. 

Plaintiff #1 shuffles out, anklets clanking.  Mr. Judge calls out, “Larry Jimmy Doowangie” (not a real name or even possibly close to a real name).  We wait another five minutes and in shuffles, also with ankle bracelets, plaintiff #2.  I am not a tiny person, but this guy and nearly everyone else in the courtroom, with the exception of mushroom hairdo, are making feel as though I may just be the only citizen of Lilliput here.

The same scenario as plaintiff #1 is carried out.  The main difference being that this guy has apparently never been caught before, because he keeps asking the Judge what the Judge thinks he ought to do.  And the judge keeps telling him that he, the Judge, won’t do that and that he, the plaintiff, must decide.  And he, the plaintiff is simply not getting the message.

Finally bow-tie frump steps up and whispers to plaintiff #2, they all raise their right hands, sign some papers and #2 clanks and shuffles out.

The Judge calls out the names of several more people, who are apparently no-shows.  I would never in my wildest dreams consider not showing up to court when I am told by a Police Deputy to show up.  And I show up an hour early!  And some people don’t even bother to show up.  One thing I have learned in life is that if you ignore problems they tend to become bigger problems.

Finally I go up to the bench.  My own attending Deputy reads off his findings and observations and his citation.  The Judge asks me a few questions, in a very kindly fashion I might add.  He pronounces judgment and it’s over.  For two months I have been deeply and profoundly dreading this moment and in less than five minutes, it’s over.  In my mind “I have won”.  The judgment could not have been better and more in my favor.

I had not made a decision; I had just been inattentive and stupid.  It’s just that the whole experience left me drained.  Limp.  I could have, in an instant had my whole life screwed by the decision of one person. And there are truly – truly true ­ - people who truly true decide to do some really dumb shit and get caught and are forced to wear really ugly orange clothes and walk around with chains on their ankles.  They have to spend days in a small confined space with big guys carrying real guns staring at them, just waiting for them to make another stupid decision.

That going to school, learning to read, following the rules, being honest and productive does seem to have its rewards.  Breaking the rules can be a really really bad decision in the real world.

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