COURT CASES FROM ANOTHER ANGLE, MINE

If you’ve ever had a court case to show up for, what’s the first thing to do?

Show up.

I’ve been in court a few times.

Traffic court.

“But Blogger Dave, why not just send in the fine?”

I probably should have. Every time.

But I had to be the smart guy.

The first time I was ticketed for speeding on a motorcycle.

Doesn’t everyone go too fast on a motorcycle?

My judge was sitting there doing something else until I wrapped up, then fined me and moved on to more important things.

That was that. I left the building without incident. It wasn’t very hard.

However, not long after I spotted a man and woman arguing in a restaurant booth late at night.

The lady was reaching over and grabbing at the man’s face while he tried to drink a bottle of catsup with the cap still on.

Well dressed couple, just a little on their heels.

I walked past for a confirming look. It was my fucking judge shitfaced in public.

Now I’ve got something, right? No.

Did I spy on them, watch them dial up an Uber on their cell phone?

Not in 1972.

How did they get home that night?

They either drove drunk, or . . . ?

I got out of there before they plowed my car in the parking lot.

The drunk judge set the legal bar; it wasn’t very high.

 

2

 

Fast forward to another courtroom for another ticket, another questionable ticket which is why I don’t just write a check and mail it in.

Besides, if the cop doesn’t show up I’m good to go.

So I sat and waited my turn, looking around.

No policeman. Whoo Hoo.

I mentioned it to the guy next to me, the ‘no cop in the room’ thing.

The judge called my case, along with the officer’s name.

The guy next to me stood up.

What did I learn, besides keep my mouth shut?

People look different out of uniform.

I told my story, the judge upheld the fine, and I left for the pay window.

Without incident, or back talk, or anything but getting the fuck out of there.

Courtrooms are not a stage for some dramatic production. Get in, get out, do better next time.

 

Court Cases: The Next Time

 

I put on a shirt and tie and joined my kid in court as his legal advisor.

With my record you might wonder why I didn’t advise him to write a check and mail it in.

Because I was right in every other instance and I’d be right again.

At least that’s the record I carry in spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Yes, I’ve lost every time, but I’ve come away better for the experience, and that’s a win.

This time my kid would see his winner dad in action.

My first advice: Don’t talk to anyone.

Especially don’t talk to anyone and complain about a cop not showing up in court.

That’s a big NO.

 

The kid hit a car parked in the middle of the road on a dense foggy morning.

We explored every viable reason a car would be parked in the middle of the road on a blind-fog morning.

Turns out the driver was part of a flagging crew hired by a construction company.

He was in the road waiting for another flagger to pull out when, BOOM, he got rear ended at low speed.

By my kid. He called me.

I arrived to find police cars, police motorcycles, fire engines, and an ambulance.

My kid looked fine; so did the other driver.

But the ambulance guys were working the driver hard to go with them when he wanted to get to work in his still drivable car.

Three cops were grilling my kid like he’d just committed the crime of the century.

I stood near him until one of the cops told me to back off.

I complied. And added my legal opinion of the job they were doing.

It was a big convenience, an odd coincidence, that they were all on the same road on their way to work when the accident happened.

The cop told me to go to my car, so I went to the crashed car and listened to the medics and firemen explain to the driver why he needed to go with them.

He wasn’t going anywhere but to work, even though his station wagon had a broken out rear window.

I mentioned to the guys that no one was on fire, but there might be a cat in a tree they could rescue instead of the guy there were talking to.

That’s when Officer Friendly told me go to my car. Again. Which I did.

Then he came over and told me to get in my car and keep the windows rolled up.

He didn’t say, “shut the fuck up and let us do our job,” but that was the message I got.

And that’s what I did.

 

2

 

The kid and I worked every angle, from the nature of the ticket, to the companies involved.

We made calls, made measurements at the scene, and felt confident of winning in court.

How confident? More than any other time I’ve been in there.

The ticket sited my kid for following too close.

He made his case looking and sounding like someone who knew what they were doing.

I was so proud.

Then the judge found him guilty and upheld the fine.

We left for the pay window.

Kid: This is bullshit. I wasn’t following anyone. He was parked in the road at a stand still.

Me: You did good in there.

Kid: It was a waste of time calling and measuring and putting the whole thing together when a judge ignores it.

Me: Part of growing up is accepting what you don’t agree with. You want better judges? You vote in elections for people who want better judges.

Kid: He didn’t even listen to me.

Me: He’s heard it all before. You might win if you spend a ton of money on lawyers for an appeal, but is that really a win? If you want a better judicial system, work on it. Keep it in mind.

Kid: How?

Me: Not everyone found innocent is innocent, the same with guilty. If you judge someone by their status, it might not be what your think it is.

Kid: What’s that supposed to mean.

Me: Have I told you about the drunk judge chugging catsup and fighting with his wife? I’ll paint a picture.

Kid: In catsup.

Me: Of course.

 

Now I’m Convinced About Court  Cases

 

I got ticketed for speeding down the hill near the Oregon State Penitentiary near Salem.

Another ticket of convenience since I’d just come out of the mountain on the Santiam Pass.

The officer advised me to mail in the fine about five times, which had the opposite effect.

Out of the court cases I’ve been in for, this felt like the one I’d finally win.

Mail it in? Nice try, Rookie.

My court date coincided with interpreter day, the day when everyone who needs an interpreter shows up on the docket.

It was a big courtroom, and crowded.

While the room settled, I noticed two guy sitting in the middle of the room on the same side of the barrister as the judge.

They looked tired and pale in their jail uniforms.

Before the judge gaveled silence, officers stood the guys up, they were in shackles, and marched them out through the crowd.

It was a sobering look. Besides pale and tired, the guys looked spooked as hell on the way out.

Once the proceedings got under way, more people were handcuffed and taken out.

Judge: You’ve had a warrant out for your arrest more than a year, and here you are for a traffic ticket. Where have you been?

Man: I’ve been sick.

Similar exchanges happened about five times before I got my moment to shine.

Did I take that moment to explain how tickets of convenience are a public nuisance, that speed traps are just a set up to pad the city coffers?

No. Fucking. Way.

My goals had changed from informing the court of their predatory nature to not getting cuffed and walked out.

Judge: How do you plead.

Me: Guilty.

I left to write a check at the pay window while the next guy stood up.

 

I’ve learned more from my court cases than I ever have from TV or movies.

A clammy reality creeps up your back when you look around at people getting life-changing orders and all you want to do is leave on your own recognizance.

It’s a win for the home team to walk out of court, get into the car you came in, and drive away.

If you need legal advice, you know who to talk to.

Don’t you?