Hallways overflowing with inappropriately dressed people are a normal day in Court. The spectrum has three distinct looks -- nice court suits, uniforms with a jersey worn over it, or nightclub attire. Sometimes you have a flashback to the old sitcom Night Court, but this is daytime and decades prior it has already been clearly depicted on what is now rerun tv. More than the normal day at Court and stationed smack in front of one courtroom, screams the overzealous subpoena power of a defense attorney. These are not subpoenas for anyone with anything helpful to say, but what I call nuisance subpoenas. Basically they are a $40 cash ticket voucher at the end of each day for someone that didn't have to take time off work anyway. Usually for someone that has nothing to add to the case. Often times just a way for the defense attorney to get an in with the family and friends, and help them to make more money off the Court process. On paper it looks good for defense counsel, as though they really worked the case; reality is vastly opposite.
This is unreported income for people that are already milking the system. So at $40 per day with a week long trial, that is $200 in one week of nontaxable and unreported income from our tax dollars. Jurors receive pay of $20 per day and usually all are employed and lose pay from work by doing their civic duty. It seems that there is nothing but reward for the societal leeches. Of course, we hear about how they had to sit in the courthouse all day. I have seen them all before, they don't know how to sit up or present themselves in public. They lounge. Sorry we don't have xboxes and flat screens here to peak your interest. They are here for the $40 and as one of the subpoenaed claims, "Dis be zum shitz, not nuf fur new gamzez. Wastin' myies time."
Usually I get, "Hey Lady, Hey Lady . . " I tend to act as though I have an invisible iPod blasting in my ears and I cannot hear them. It makes the day so much simpler. But sometimes you get a bold one that walks in front of you or grabs you by the top of your arm. Today was one of those days. What I do not understand is "Why Me?"
So I am walking from one courtroom to another and my path is cut off my the very reason that I refuse to ever buy a Northface product. It is the standard perp description. Large black puffy Northface jacket, dark designer denims rising just above the knees more than low on the waist, underwear completely showing, and unlaced high tops as though they just got out of jail and have not gotten their property back yet. I get the, "Wher'd I be gettn my taxi voucher?" I say, "Excuse me?" And he then gets louder and says, "Need a taxi voucher to get home." I explain to the male, who is no more than nineteen or twenty that we do not give cab fare. Then he says, "How you 'spect mees to gets home?" Part of me feels sorry for him and hopes that he just feels stranded and does not know what to do. Part of me feels guarded because I feel as though if he can afford the monthly charges on that new iPhone that he has money. Part of me has a churning stomach and feels the guilt thinking, "What if this were me? What if I were stranded and asking for help, after all he is asking and not robbing someone." So I think outside the box and I volunteer to give him a three dollar Metro card. That will take him anywhere in the city that he needs to go. I actually have a few in my pocket and I attempt to hand him one with $3.60 left on it. I say, "Here, this should help you. You can take the Metro anywhere you need to go." I think I have actually simply solved what was a big problem for him. From there it all began to spin rapidly into me being the bad person.
"You stupidz byatch, I ain't takin no public tranzpurtation!" he squeals loudly enough for the officers crew cuts to raise across the room. I simply ask what the problem is and he again repeats this louder. Then my biggest fault and flaw of being rational grows as though injected with an iv of Miracle Gro. I ask him what is wrong with taking the Metro and he repeats louder more of the same. I then say, "Well most everyone working at Court takes it everyday, including Judges, and it is fine. It is actually quicker." He boasts more of the same only louder and more escalated with his arms flailing about. The officers across the hall are watching and shaking their head in dismay but also keeping a watchful eye on me if needed. I am at wits end and this truly is my moment. Since he opened the door, I say, "Well it doesn't seem like you have a problem living in public housing, so what's wrong with public transportation to get there?" I never expected an answer, but he gave me one. "I cand be lettin no one see me on no public tranzpurtation! Dat ain't right." I am stunned. He got me there. All I could really say was that I take the Metro to work, but then again, I am a public servant so I guess that is ok.
