The Irony of Justice

Here is a personal story:

I accompanied a friend to a court house yesterday. He was accused of theft by someone he hardly knows. The police came to his house, handcuffed him, and whisked him off to the police station at about 10 pm a few months back. He was shocked and pleaded with the police that he did not even know the person the arrest warrant mentioned. The police did not divulge a lot about the accuser. Address and telephone number were defaced from the warrant. After staying at the police station for more than two hours, my friend was released. A few day later a letter announcing a court date arrived in the mail.

We left early in the morning because the trial was at 9 am, a two-hour drive away. As we drove, we could not stop discussing the case. We imagined how Black Folks had been and continue to be falsely accused in these United States. Many had died in jail while a few had been freed after serving for many, many years. Just recently, a man who was accused of rape in Texas was released after 27 years in jail. DNA results showed that this man was nowhere in the vicinity of the crime. We did not know what to expect as we painfully drove to face an accuser the accused did not know. (There was this doubt in my mind: Why would someone who my friend not know, take him to court for stealing $500, two TVs, 20 pairs of shoes/sneakers, etc.? I love my friend dearly, but there was this faint doubt that I wished would stop clouding my judgement.)

Map Quest took us directly to the court house at about 8 am. Since we had one hour to get psychologically adjusted, we used some of that time to visit the near-by Macdonald. My friend ordered a deluxe breakfast and I ordered some biscuits and a cup of coffee. My resolution last year was to stop eating chicken. This year, I added meat to my self-restraining list. We ate but I did not feel that I had eaten anything. My friend must have had the least satisfaction. He did not tell me, but I could feel it for him.

We entered the court house at exactly 9 am. For thirty minutes we sat there while other accusers and accused entered this room of judgement. I felt my legs shaking. My friend could not decide whether to take off his winter jacket or keep it on. It was a tense 30 minutes before the announcement "All Rise" brought us back to reality. The Judge walked in, took his seat, and began calling on the State prosecutor to hand over the flies of those who had made this particular day so nerve-wracking for many, especially a first-timer like me. As we sat there in that court room, my eyes were searching all over the place trying to see who was this idiot who had taken away our sleep and tried to snatch away my friend's innocence. Unsettling anticipation coupled with fear and apprehension appeared to have crippled my normal-thought process.

At exactly 12:30 pm, the Judge announced my friend's name. Even though I was not the one being called, I immediately felt like going into the bath room.

To be continued......


The Final Episode:

A few days back I narrated a story of my ordeal as I accompanied a friend, who was accused of theft, to court. We had driven for two hours, had waited for another two hours in the judgement chamber, when the State prosecutor called my friend to take the stand as she handed his folder to the Judge.

My friend had agonized over the idea of getting a lawyer to represent him. "I did not do anything; I do not need a lawyer," he reassured me after awhile. I was not too sure. Getting a lawyer would be expensive, so I suggested that we contact a public defender. We did. We collected all of the documents and faxed them to the office of the Public Defender in the county where the proceedings were being held.

Sitting in the hallway and waiting for the doors to the court room to open, someone called out the name of my friend. It was a Public Defender. My friend, who I will now refer to as Fred, walked into a small room to talk to the PD. It was not long before Fred came back to where I was sitting and said that the Public Defender had suggested that he Fred should ask for a postponement of the case. The reason given was that whatever was to be known about the case should have been available 10 days prior to the court date. The Public Defender could therefore do nothing on this particular day, for he had received the request one week prior. After hearing what the PD had said, and as we sat on the bench waiting for the doors of the court room to open, I felt that I was getting into a car with a friend who had no license to drive and who hardly knew how to drive. It appeared that the few butterflies that had started flying in my stomach were beginning to gain momentum and were multiplying in numbers. I felt like using the bathroom. Fred must have been experiencing the same emotion, for then and there he too told me that he wanted to use the bathroom. As we pondered his fate, we decided against postponing the case. We felt that one four-hour round trip was enough for a case our instincts kept telling us carries no head or tail. Fred would take the risk of representing himself.

The Judge began to enumerate the charges levied against Fred: Do you have an attorney? The Judge asked. No, your Honor, Fred answered. Well then, the Judge continued: You are being accused of stealing $500, two TVs, 40 pairs of sneakers...... just then we saw a gentlemen approaching the State Prosecutor. We saw him whispering something in her ear. Then the Prosecutor called to approach the judge's quarters. There was complete silence in the court. Fred who had been standing in the defender's box was being asked by the Judge to approach the stand. (The area the judge sits in a court room; what is it called?) This is for Sunwabe, Jr to tell me. I am a court-room tyro, as my readers can see.

As I sat in that deadly, silenced court room, except for the commotion at the Judge's stand, I could hear Fred asking the Judge: But how did he get my name? Apparently, the fellow who had whispered into the State Prosecutor's ear had told her that Fred was not the person he had sued. (So this was the guy who had brought sleepless nights to our being?) The Judge at this time was telling Fred that the case against him was not prosecutable and that Fred was free to go!

How often does this happen, I wondered again as I sat celebrating in my heart. Should I rush up there amongst all these people in the court and give my friend a big hug? Should I raise my hand and ask the Judge what should our next move be? What becomes of the pain and suffering my friend had gone through? What about defamation and character assassination? How in the world did this accuser get the particulars of Fred for the arrest to occur? We are still grappling with these and many more unanswered questions.

As we left the court room and entered the hallway, a lady who was apparently in the court room while Fred's case was being discussed, approached us and suggested that the Judge should have dismissed the case instead of the verdict: Nolle Prosequi.

NOLLE PROSEQUI. That was the verdict handed down in the case in which my friend Fred had absolutely no connection to. Another question to my readers: How can Fred's name be expunged from the record book?

I hope to get some suggestions to turn the table on this guy who caused us so much stress
and mental spasms.

1/19/08