Paul at District Court in Burlington VT

Listening to NPR this AM, a interviewee said he wouldn’t vote for a particular candidate, because, “he doesn’t care about the average guy.” How about the guy on the margin? Who cares for or about him?

They commit these crimes against the public order, usually. Sometimes it rises to an act of violence, caused by frustration, alcohol, and mental illness. Oh, yeh, their are check charges, criminal impersonation, petit larcenies, mischiefs. Usually, nothing serious, just annoying for the public and business. Now too expensive to put them in until they sober up. Easier to hope they move on. But to where?

Years on the street, fending, offending, and fendingoff add to the confusion. Nothing intentional, mind you. Just stayin alive, stayin alive, stayin alive. They sometimes have lawyers. Most of the time, not. Their goal is to leave through the door they came in, not the one next to the table they stand at when they face the judge. Get back on the street, so you don’t have to Jones in the jail.

I went with him, because he told me he was offered 20 days of community service to resolve a criminal trespass charge. He didn’t have any paperwork. “When they arrested me, they threw me to the ground and handcuffed me. Then they got a call and left. Three days later they gave me papers while I sat at my spot. I put the papers in my pocket…. I passed out in the street. They think I am drunk. I have a seizure. They put me in jail. Then, when they realized I had a seizure, they took me to the hospital. At the hospital, they won’t let me have my own drugs, which they gave me. They give me drugs and then kick me out. I ain’t straight. I got to walk down the hill to nowhere…. The cops took my jacket a few days later. They harassed me because I gave information that got two of them fired….”

In court, we made contact with a social worker from Cots whom he knew for years (they met in New York, maybe in the 70’s). She offered to help, but not until Monday. She was there assisting another guy, Pete, whom I had met on the street.

He got the offer wrong. The State, correctly and justly, wanted 20 AA meetings, which the Deputy State’s Attorney said would be “good for the defendant and good for the State.” If Paul brought proof that he had attended 20 meetings, she would dismiss the case. Perfect, I thought.

Judge Crucetti went into his due process mode, not realizing that the guy in front of him had spent the night in a doorway. He asked if Paul had spoken with an attorney and suggested that he contact Law Line. Paul clutched, now thinking he might be in more trouble than he previously thought. Paul told him he had been in the hospital and had not contacted a lawyer. The DSA said Law Line doesn’t provide the kind of assistance the defendant needed. Then Paul agreed to take an adjournment to find an attorney. Yada. Yada. Yada. Just the kind of shit that I used to cut through when I was on the bench; the kind of shit that made me give up my practice; the kind of shit that kept me away from a courtroom for almost three years.

But here I was.

So, I got up from the photo box. I asked the Judge if I could speak with Paul. We went outside. I said, “you don’t need a lawyer for this case; you need to go to AA.” We went back in. He accepted the deal and we left.

All he has to do is go AA and he won’t have to deal with courts, lawyers, or unfair searches and seizures. Oh, were it only so simple!

Author: duckshots

Lapsed lawyer. Reader. Photographer. Jewish. Strongly attached to loving, caring, wife-Sharon. Working at remaining relevant. Hoping that my body and mind outlive my dreams. Maybe something I blog will make some sense. View all posts by duckshots