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Justice and shopping

So my friend and I showed up at the courthouse yesterday, properly (or rather improperly) disarmed. She even left her nail file in the car, just in case, and I carried a purse (I never carry a purse) that was so light I felt naked. No flashlight, no pepper spray, no multi-tool, no spring-assisted pocket knife, no hardware whatsoever.

The courthouse, in a bigger county than this one, was a “real” courthouse — swarming with lawyers and built to impress 19th century citizens. Domes and grand staircases and mosaic floors and all that.

In the courtroom, the ceiling soared to 20 feet to make room for a pair of murals meant to convey the Majesty of Justice. On one side of the judge’s bench, a gaggle of Greek ladies stood in Renaissancy poses, balancing scales and reading big books al fresco. They appeared quite uncomfortable despite their sunny day. But they were better off than the folks in the other mural.

On that one, a host of avenging angels wielding swords, torches, and daggers took off after some naked-except-for-strategically-placed-drape guy like a mob of peasants after the Frankenstein monster — except airborne, as angels are wont to be. The guy in the mural had just murdered another guy and now he was running like hell. (I think it might have been Cain and Abel, but since the muralist didn’t include any symbolic hints like scattered produce from Cain’s garden, I’m not really sure.)

Above the judge in foot-high letters was a motto (I paraphrase): “To the just, justice is a holy blessing. To evil-doers it is righteous vengeance.”

This was Superior Court and everything about the place was meant to convey that it’s superior to you, indeed, little peasant.

Beneath all this, a bored and mumbly judge and a weary flock of public defenders gave 30 seconds each to a parade of mostly young, mostly male, mostly haggard, sometimes ragged, often not too bright looking “evil-doers.” That is, they gave 30 seconds (sometimes as much as two minutes) to the ones who showed up. About half on the docket didn’t — which seemed to be such business-as-usual that the drooping judge didn’t even pause before calling out the next defendant’s name.

Even sitting in a forward row, we could hear only snippets of the proceedings. Those 20-foot ceilings play havoc with the acoustics. It seemed pretty clear, though, by the way they trooped in and out of the courtroom on their own, that this pack of “evil-doers” … well, wasn’t.

At least not of the level requiring heavenly hit squads.

All we really knew was that my friend’s son — the person for whom we conducted our entire exercise in disarmament and submission to the state — wasn’t there.

He wasn’t in the bizarre conga line of chained county jail inmates in teal jumpsuits shuffling out as we entered. He wasn’t among the bedraggled, humbled, or swaggering defendants who approached the bench in civilian clothes. Nor was he among the orange-suited and chain-trussed few who came in with cops on all four sides of them, officers grimly clearing the hoi palloi out of the way. (We were imagining each and every one of the orange-suiters a Hannibal Lecter, but when they stood before the judge we occasionally caught terms like “malicious mischief” and “assault.”)

We’d already discovered her son wasn’t on the docket before we went into the courtroom. We stayed around a while just in case he and his attorney turned up unscheduled, as a nice woman from the county clerk’s office said sometimes could happen.

But nope. He was in jail because he’d missed his November court date on theft charges. And now he’d done it again. He’d told his mother he had a hearing today when in fact it’s next Monday. Yeah. He’s a flake. Next time, she’ll check with his lawyer before making the trip. Next time, it’ll be without me.

Anyhow we spent the day going to thrift stores and consignment shops instead. We met no more avenging angels. And no evil-doers, as far as we could tell.

—–

Oh yeah. Even in the “real” courthouse — no metal detectors, no searches. We could have walked in with Tommy guns under our skirts and nobody would have given a hoot. (Nor should they have given a hoot, I hasten to add, because we’d be strictly responsible Tommy gun owners, ready only to aid the cause of justice by defending the innocent.)

In fact, their Big City courthouse had even more liberal weapons rules than our local backwoods one.

Our local Palace of Justice has also been known to indulge itself in a mural or two, but mostly depicting grubby 19th century loggers (though the two-man saws they bear are more useful than angel swords, all things considered). The edifice, such as it is, is primarily a place to renew car tags and get marriage licenses. It’s a very much more workaday building for very much more workaday rednecks. Yet it forbids all weapons within its very doors. (A rule I’m sure gets broken six times before breakfast every day, and thank heaven it does.)

The Courthouse of the Avenging Angels only forbade weapons on the floors housing the courtrooms and apparently had no problems with Tommy gun-toting ladies in the administrative areas.

16 Comments

  1. Matt, another
    Matt, another December 6, 2011 7:36 am

    Your description sounds very much like our “superior” court building. Our paintings and murals have more to do with copper mining and cattle ranching than logging or justice. Our court has been an enforced weapons free area for many years now, predating 9/11 even. There are metal detectors and some generally friendly and helpful court security guards that will work with you to secure weapons on the street side, lock boxes are provided for secure storage.

    Most of the heinous evil doers I’ve met were up for bad checks, DUI, missed child support, inability to pay fines etc.

  2. Carl-Bear
    Carl-Bear December 6, 2011 7:53 am

    What? No “obedience to the law is liberty” carved into the wall? I thought that was standard court house decoration these days.

  3. Beth
    Beth December 6, 2011 7:59 am

    So, I get (and support) your points about justice. Now I wanna know the details about your shopping. ;^)

  4. Matt
    Matt December 6, 2011 8:55 am

    Meh.

    Frankly I’d be more inclined to get in a big moral huff about the “renewing car tags” than the “treating criminals like criminals”. At least we’re talking about real crimes (which “theft”, “malicious mischief”, and “assault” all are). People who steal other people’s property, intentionally damage other people’s property, or initiate force against other people _should_ have to go to the courthouse. People who just want to travel in peace _shouldn’t_.

  5. EN
    EN December 6, 2011 9:56 am

    First off, anything to do with the DMV in my town could easily lead to gunfire. But they don’t have metal detectors or warnings. Odd since that’s a state office and in California there are more rules about the rules than in the old Soviet Union. But we have very strong disarmament policies in our courts since that fateful day in 1993 when a local mom decided that her son’s molester was not going to get the justice he deserved from the legal system and shot said molester in the head five times (no misses). Case closed… another one opened, and no more firearms in the courtroom. However, up until that time it wouldn’t have surprised me if prisoners were armed.

  6. Claire
    Claire December 6, 2011 11:35 am

    Beth, LOL. Any day I can get a bookend (just one, unfortunately) in the shape of a goofy dog for 25 cents is a good shopping day. And it got even better from there. It’s a glorious thing when thrift stores have 50% off sales.

    Carl-Bear. Gads. Horrible. No, I didn’t see that one. Might have been in a different courtroom. So they had Orwell back then, too, eh?

    EN. I remember that shooting! Big national news. The angry mother died shortly thereafter of breast cancer, if I recall. Funny thoughts about the DMV …

  7. Claire
    Claire December 6, 2011 11:35 am

    Matt. Wasn’t getting into a “big moral huff.” I was observing the disconnect between the state’s self-promoting grandeur and the pettiness of the proceedings. Do I think any person should ever have to get permission from the state to drive or marry or open a business or do anything else? Nope. But I also don’t think crawling before the state is the ideal solution for people who commit harm; private mediation and restitution makes a lot more sense for all but the predatory worst.

    I couldn’t help but notice, though, how much the “justice” system is a class system. Hardly an original observation, but one that sure comes home when you set foot in a busy courthouse. True, in many cases, criminals have put themselves firmly into the “lower class” by choice (my friend’s son is a case in point; his family is solidly middle/small-business class but he created his own marginal life though his own lifelong bad choices). Yet, government aside, there’s something sad about watching the crowd in a courthouse and instantly being able to tell who works there and who’s just being processed through the system.

    Everybody we talked with while searching for my friend’s son on the docket was helpful and friendly — from the county clerk’s office workers to the woman defendant with the lean look and the drug-ravaged face who was able to provide help because she knew the system so well.

  8. EN
    EN December 6, 2011 3:46 pm

    Not to “insinuate” anything bad about the dead, but the woman in question, having a very clear understanding of the court system from much personal experience (and never doing a day of time) was sure the bad guy was going to walk. There’s a great line from the Movie “The Town”. Mom decided, “We’re holding court in the street”. Although not specifically the street, it was a court room, street justice was in full affect. It’s a very small town and I know/knew all the principles. The presiding judge/ star witness was having a glass of wine two stools down from me last night. It didn’t really end up all that well, Ellie died of cancer a few years back, the molested boy is now serving 25 to life for murder, and nothing went well afterwards from anyone involved in that mess. That said, I wonder? Assuming the Molester had gone through the system would anything have come out differently? The only thing I’m certain of is that the accused Molester was in fact a Molester and hasn’t reoffended. No one would ever say I’m not opinionated, but on this one I have no opinion. Just life, Ma!

  9. Claire
    Claire December 6, 2011 4:56 pm

    Wow. Fascinating background, EN. I had no idea (though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised) that the killer mother had legal issues of her own before the shooting. (That must have gotten downplayed in the “mom as vigilante” coverage.) And even worse, that the molested kid ended up as a murderer himself. Sigh.

    Terrible sad tale in reality. But … you could write a good novel from all that, especially with your small-town knowledge.

  10. EN
    EN December 6, 2011 7:04 pm

    Well, Willie was always a bit prickly. However, he was spared nothing by the murder trial. The press didn’t print his name, but his identity was known and everything that was done to him was in the papers, even if his name wasn’t. Kinda hard for a nine year old kid. He got a tad bit defensive. He was a good friend of my oldest son and his sis was a good friend of my youngest. However, assigning blame doesn’t feel quite right. Who’s to say he wasn’t headed this way already?

    A book? Hmmmmmm! I’ve always had a knack for being around when interesting things happen to others. My ex wife believes that underneath my warm and happy exterior lies a great evil that causes bad things to happen (particularly to drunks and drug addicts). My brother just calls me Forest Gump.

  11. MamaLiberty
    MamaLiberty December 7, 2011 10:33 am

    No restrictions here about sidearms in a courthouse, though it’s “illegal” to carry concealed in the courtroom itself… but nobody searches or asks, and I presume the judge and half the rest are armed one way or another. So far, no courtroom shootings here – at least this century.

    Some talk about setting up metal detectors or such in Cheyenne, mostly the state legislature buildings, but the idea isn’t too popular and may not be “legal” anyway. No county or town can pass more restrictive laws than the state… and there ARE zero statutes regulating open carry.

    Kind of silly to be required to EXPOSE a sidearm in order to enter such a place, but we manage to cope. 🙂

  12. Ellendra
    Ellendra December 7, 2011 12:09 pm

    EN, there’s a narrative style that’s like that, I think it’s called “participatory observer” or something. Like Watson was in the Sherlock Holmes books, all the interesting things happened around him, but he was the one telling the story.

  13. EN
    EN December 7, 2011 11:23 pm

    Ellendra, thanks for the info. I have written but it’s all been non-fiction, which is about research and editing, but not so much about creativity despite what many Historians seem to think. I’m not trying to run myself down, but I seem to run out of steam unless I have someone else’s story and can’t imagine how I would put it all together.

  14. The Infamous Oregon Lawhobbit
    The Infamous Oregon Lawhobbit December 8, 2011 12:59 pm

    I’m now having courtroom envy. I want some avenging angels. With lumberjack saws.

  15. Claire
    Claire December 8, 2011 1:28 pm

    LOL, I don’t think avenging angels often get recruited for traffic violations, Hobbit. But perhaps I could be recruited to come our your way and paint some on your courthouse walls for you.

    The lumberjack saws would be a great touch. But in your part of the world, wouldn’t it be more culturally accurate for the angels to be, say, throwing watermelons?

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