Clareified

“He who represents himself has a fool for a client.” - Abraham Lincoln

I have always had an overdeveloped sense of right and wrong. I assume it was some combination of my religious upbringing and the fact that my mother would soundly beat my ass for the slightest transgressions. I was always attuned to what was just.
However, like most people — perhaps earlier than most, though — I also learned that life isn’t always fair and sometimes justice isn’t served.
You know, sorta like today.
The first hearing I watched, a disheveled young blond woman stood up to the podium, the ticketing officer stood beside her and the judge swore them in.
The officer testified he didn’t remember the incident and the judge dismissed the charges.
She left.
The whole thing took a minute and a half. I know. I was live-blogging.
My heart was pounding.
Maybe, just maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Everyone told me that it was no big deal. Cop wouldn’t show, cop wouldn’t remember, badabingbadaboom.
The next defendant was a elderly gentleman. He took his place at the podium, the arresting officer stood beside him. The judge swore them in.
The officer began a speedy methodical chronology of events which included the phrase “observed the vehicle traveling southbound down 5th avenue and making a left turn East onto 42nd street.”
I gasped.
The elderly man looked familiar.
The officer said the date. June 24.
My heart was beating faster.
He was the car that made the left turn in front of me.
That. Was. My. Cop.
Of course, it was. Why not? I am Dawn Summers and I know better than to hope for the best.
The elderly man produced photos taken the next day of the intersection showing that there is no sign on the Southeast side of the street or hanging over the lights.
The officer looked at the photos and said that since they were not time or date stamped, he could not comment on their authencity.
(Now, I went by the intersection yesterday with my brand spanking new camera to take a video, but sadly, the department of transportation has since put up a sign on the South Eastern side of the street, so…vaffles for me. I deleted the footage and decided to just go with my oral testimony.)
Anyway, the judge found the elderly man guilty and assessed the maximum fine.
The next person, a thirty-somethingish woman, went up to the podium and again the officer repeated his rote testimony about the car turning left onto 42nd street and how the sign was unobstructed and there was no grafitti and how the car never left his sight.
My palms started to sweat.
The judge convicted her.
The judge then called what I recognized as a mangled pronounciation of my name.
“Dan…Summers?”
I took off my coat and went up.
I stood next to Officer Spawn of Satan.
“Do you have insurance?”
(At the time of my ticket I didn’t have proof of insurance, so I got a ticket for that.)
“Yes, your honor.”
“Ok. That charge is dismissed.”
The officer then begins to verbatim recite the same testimony he gave in the last two cases.
Then I heard him say: “I observed a green vehicle heading southbound, making a left turn onto 42nd street. I pulled the driver over to the right hand side and requested a valid license and registration and proof of insurance. I did not lose sight of the vehicle at any time and the driver produced license, registration and proof of insurance. I then showed the driver the sign and blah blah blah blah.”
Hold up.
I produced what now?
He continued to zip through his obviously memorized bullshit testimony and then the judge asked me if I had any questions.
Oh. I had questions.
“Is there a transcript of the officer’s comments, your honor?”
I can’t swear that he laughed out loud, but…
“Uh…no. Do you have questions young lady?”
“Well, your honor, without a transcript I cannot be sure, but I believe the officer just testified I gave him a valid license, registration and proof of insurance…so I wonder why he gave me a ticket for not producing my insurance card.”
The officer immediately says “You didn’t have an insurance card and so I told you to bring it to court.”
“But that’s not what you just testified to - under oath.” I do not add, Officer Pants on Fire. But I want to.
THEN THE JUDGE SAYS “Oh, he misspoke.”
WHAT THE FUCK????
OK. So now I’m pissed. I know what is going to happen and I am livid. So…we go for broke.
“Your honor. In the 14 years that I have had my license I have NEVER had a ticket for any kind of moving violation. I am beyond conscientious. And on the day in question, I looked all around for any sign that I couldn’t make that turn and there was none. I am the third person that has come before you today swearing that there is no sign there.”
I now show him my two tickets and point out that the second ticket was numbered four tickets away from my first ticket even though they are both dated and stamped at the same time.
“This officer is just sitting there pre-filling out tickets for this violation because he knows no one in the left lane can see a sign posted five traffic lanes away on the right hand side.”
The officer turns sheet white and gives the very persuasive “I do not,” response.
The judge asks to see the tickets.
“Can you explain why the ticket numbers aren’t sequential?”
“No, judge. I don’t print the tickets, I just fill them out.”
The judge then says “Are the tickets in booklets or something?”
The officer answers yes.
The judge then asks:
“And are the tickets always printed in sequence in the booklet?”
AND OFFICER PANTS ON FIRE SAYS NO.
NO!
Yah, they go around printing tickets and the machine is just like umm…956474, 956475, 956476 — no…wait…how about we make this one 976854 –that’ll be fun!
But the judge then says “ok, so there’s your explanation for that, young lady.”
“Do you have anything else?”
“Your honor, that sign is impossible to see from where I made that turn, another car made the same turn in front of me and there is nothing saying you can’t. This officer didn’t even tell me what the ticket was for when he wrote it AND when he explained the ticket afterward, he said I should just plead not guilty.”
The judge looks at the cop.
“I do not recall that your honor.”
“Really? But your memory has been so fantastic for the past ten minutes.”
“Young lady!” The judge exclaims.
“Your honor, this officer’s testimony is,” don’t say bullshit, don’t say bullshit, don’t say bullshit, don’t say bullshit, “suspect.”
YAY.
The judge then asks the officer a series of questions about whether it is possible that someone in the left lane couldn’t see the sign.
The cop shrugs his shoulder in defeat.
The judge then asks the cop how big the sign was.
Another shrug from Officer Pants on Fire.
“You specifically remember pulling this young lady over?”
“I have contemporaneous notes of the incident, your honor.”
I roll my eyes.
“OK, I’ve heard enough. I consider this hearing closed.”
I start to walk away.
“Wait…I am going to give you my finding now, young lady.”
I go back to the podium.
“I find that there is probable cause for the ticket, but considering your excellent record I will asess the lowest fine of $10.”
“Your honor!”
“Miss, you may appeal my finding if you wish. For now, please see the cashier. You have two weeks to pay the fine.”
FUCK YOU.
I don’t say it, but I think it really loudly.
The elderly man, who was watching my hearing, nods sympathetically.
We walk to the cashier together and I get in line behind him.
My first case and I lost. Even though I was right. Stupid America.
I hear the elderly man tell the cashier he’ll pay his fine later and ask how many points he will get on his license. The cashier says two, but says that if he takes a defensive driving course, they would be removed.
I assume this is because the judge gave him the highest fine.
I am wrong.
I take my turn is line and ask the very same question.
He gives me the very same answer.
FUCK.
He asks me if I planned to pay the fine now. I say yes.
He tells me the total is “$60.”
WHAT?
“No, the judge said ten.”
“Oh, there is a fifty dollar surcharge on all tickets, ma’am.”
WHAT?
“Do you still want to pay it today?”
FUCK YOU.
My eyes well with tears and I hand him my credit card.
Points, my insurance is probably going to go up AND if I’ve got to go to fucking traffic school.
FUCK.
I think back to that Simpsons episode where Mr. Burns sees a vending machine and places a verbal order and then when nothing happens he says “You’ve made a powerful enemy today my friend.”
And indeed you have, Mr. ridiculously mind already made up judge and Mr. Spawn of Satan Lies telling cop.
I will get you and your kind. It wasn’t today, it probably won’t be tomorrow, but someday I am going to be the most powerful person in all the world and then. THEN you will get yours. And good.
Sigh.
They won’t will they?
They will continue to screw the little guy and abuse their positions of power until they retire on a pension that I will pay.
Fuck.
Kinda makes me want to become a lawyer.

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Thursday, December 14th, 2006 at 4:19 pm and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.