Today I had my final adventure in our justice system. Instead of going to trial about all of this car theft nonsense, the thief decided to take the plea. I went to “drug call” today (I bet you’ll never guess what kind of cases are tried there!) and that was an adventure in itself. It was a tiny courtroom on the seventh floor of the courthouse that was full when I arrived at 1:35 p.m. and was overflowing shortly after I arrived. There is a small gallery of two rows of seating for defendants, family/friends, etc. and I was able to get a seat at the very back.
Within the first five minutes I noticed that my head is pounding. Then I realize it’s because several people have used their perfume/cologne as a marinade and the fragrances don’t combine well (as usual). Then a guy sits down next to me who smells strongly of beer. Man, my head hurts. I hope they get to my case soon. People are coming and going from the courtroom and it’s hard to hear what’s going on. Lawyers come into the tiny gallery looking for their clients and in general there seems to be a lot of confusion over who’s doing what. Even the judge is getting a little snippy with one attorney. “We’ll deal with this mess over here in a minute. Would someone who knows what’s going on come up here, please?”
45 minutes pass and I hear the defendant’s name called. She has decided to accept the plea. She’s agreed to be sentenced today, but I can’t hear what courtroom I have to go to because the other attorneys keep talking to people in the gallery. So I approach the attorney. His client is in the hallway. Is it wrong that I suddenly want to run out there and try out my new kickboxing skills on her? Third floor. Okay, I have to go now.
I get to the courtroom and it’s much larger than where we just came from. The room seems vast in comparison and there’s only four people in it – myself, the attorney, the defendant and the court clerk. The attorney comes over to me and asks if he may speak with me. He has a question about the restitution amount and tells me that I don’t have to speak to him at all if I don’t want to. “Well, let’s hear what you have to say, first.” So we discuss why the amount I’m asking for in restitution is different, he’s satisfied with my answer and now we wait for the Deputy D.A. to arrive.
She arrives, says hello and asks if I want to say anything to the court. I decline, because honestly I don’t know what to say at this point. She probably won’t hear me anyway. I’m just here to see what happens. Amity lets the court clerk know we’re ready to go. The judge enters the room and off we go. I won’t bore you with all of the details, and there are many, but I’ll give you the highlights.
She looked exactly like I expected – medium height, light brown hair w/blonde streaks in it, white, medium build. She did exhibit more attitude than I would have expected. She said several times throughout the proceeding that she didn’t take the car from my residence, so she didn’t understand why she had to pay restitution to me. The judge asked how she came to be in my car and she said that she went to her friend and asked to borrow a car and was given mine. She said, “When I got in the car, it was empty already and I figured it was stolen, but I drove it anyway.” And yes, that’s exactly what she said. The judge confirmed with her that she suspected that the car was stolen, but she decided to drive it anyway and she said yes. He then explained to her that because she was caught in a stolen car that it’s the same as having stolen it herself. He also mentioned that she said at the scene that she admitted to taking an already stolen car and that she was unwilling to divulge the name of the person who originally stole my car. She still seemed confused as to why she was responsible for paying restitution.
She whined that she shouldn’t have to repay restitution because she’s unemployed and doesn’t know how she’s going to get the money. The judge asked her how she’s supporting herself right now and all she said was that she was living with a friend. Her attorney said that she has a line on a job that could start after her jail time has been served and the judge said that she should start saving some money from those paychecks provided that it comes through to repay the restitution. She’s a real brain surgeon, I’m tellin’ ya.
So here’s the final word.
- 18 months of formal probation (meaning that she has a Parole Officer that she has to report to)
- 12 days of community service
- 15 days in jail
- A tour of the women’s prison because the next time she has a similar offense, she’ll go straight to jail for a minimum of a year.
- Some sort of a theft-talk class (I equated it to “stealing – the wrong thing to do” featuring Troy McClure).
- Reparations to be paid in the amount of $50/month starting 60 days from now.
I must admit that I thought it was going to be hard to sit through that and I think it was harder than I imagined in some ways. The urge to get up and smack her was overwhelming and there were a couple of times during the sentencing that I wanted to stand up and put my two cents in, but I managed to restrain myself.
So justice has been served – sort of. It was very anti-climactic and the only time I felt like some sort of justice had been served was when the took her into custody at the end. The handcuffed her and took her out of the courtroom. She sniffled a couple of times and for the first time I felt no remorse for another human being. One thought kept running through my mind – actions and consequences. I don’t know why this is so difficult for people to understand. Everything we do is based on this principle. So it’s over and now life can get back to normal.
Tress
