Tell It to the Judge

Tell It to the Judge

Ever had to appear before a judge? “Your Honor.” Lawyers, young and old, bow and beseech the one on the bench. When you, unschooled in the court’s way, represent yourself, you can't help feel that you are at the mercy of the court. Is the judge’s ear as tuned in to your words as the trained civil servant who reports that you have broken the law? The assumption, innocent until proven guilty, doesn’t feel real. The one who is about to determine your fate looks down upon you. Expect the decision right or wrong, to be final. Challenges require courage, time and money.

The setting is intimidating. Take it from one who, when he was young, appeared in court for several parking fines. I was surprised to hear many times judges have an understanding ear, prosecutors sometimes too.

Those frightful experiences provided the background for relating Jill’s apprehension for returning to Ontario. In my novel, Baggage burdens. Jill expects to be hauled into court and found to be guilty. Even if she is innocent the prospect of appearing in court is too much for her.

As they near the park, Bill asks, “Something wrong?”

“I’m worried.”

“About going to see your family in Ontario?”

“Not the family. It’s something about going back to Oshawa,” explains Jill. “Going back feels like I’m going to be arrested, like there’s a bench warrant out for me failing to go to court. I have to face the judge, but I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

Jill glances at Bill, searching for a hint of disapproval.

“Could it be guilt for running out on your grandmother?”

“No. It feels more serious than that. At the same time, I think I don’t deserve to be hauled into court. Crazy! Isn’t it?”

“Puzzling.” He notes the tension in Jill’s voice.

Jill stops walking and faces Bill. “Let me try and explain it this way. One spring afternoon, I was driving Joseph’s truck to pick him up from the market. I stepped on the brakes and started sliding into the intersection. I decided I’d end up in the middle, so I drove right through. I didn’t think anything of it until a ticket came in the mail. The picture showed me driving. The roads were very slippery. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t driving without due care and caution. Anyway, I went to court. Have you ever gone to court?” Jill looks again at Bill.

He shakes his head.

“It’s scary. At least for me it is. I watched the judge lecture three accused people before me. Words like road safety, watch out for others, you’re not the only one on the road, accused the people before me of being immature, irresponsible. The last guy, a young guy, was even told to grow up. The judge seemed to be on mission, crucify poor drivers.”

She doesn’t tell Bill that the judge’s attacks reminded her of her father.

“Then it was my turn. I’m sure he saw me shaking like a leaf in the wind. He smiled and helped me explain why I came to court. My only defense was to describe the nature of the roads. I presented a copy of newspaper article describing the roads and weather at the time. I had no other evidence. I knew it was wrong to drive through the intersection on a red light. I deserved to be punished. In the end, he reduced the charge and the fine. The point I’m trying to make is that when I was looking up at him, I felt like a little mouse trapped. The cat was a foot away. Anyway, that’s the feeling I have about going back to Ontario. I’ve tried to figure out what I’ve done wrong.

     haiku capsule:

guilty? innocent?

fearlessly deal with the judge

intimidating

Next blog:

DANGER: KEEP OFF THE ROADS