Another Day in Paradise

This time around, I thought we would give y’all something different. Rather than a Blog, here’s a short story I wrote some years ago. It’s from the early days of my being a Baby Lawyer. In the beginning months of our practice, of course we didn’t have an all-encompassing every day lineup of cases that fully consumed our days. Someone-wish I could remember who-told us  don’t waste your free/open time; go down to the Courthouse and go into the various courtrooms and see what was going on. We did. There were tutorials everywhere and if you sat still and observed and listened, you would begin to get an honest feel for how it all ‘really’ worked.

From traffic to domestic to criminal to probate and small civil, we wandered about among the called, the cops and lawyers, court administrators, curious spectators and  We watched carefully to see who looked like they were worth some wheat and those who looked like the chaff.

We watched people argue with their cohorts, cops argue with lawyers and sometimes, lawyers argue with lawyers. On a few spectacular days, we watched lawyers get into brawls with each other.

So we did and it was a treasure trove of live-fire action and education. We always dressed nicely, even with just enough eye-catching flair and from time to time, we’d be approached by folks who needed lawyers. If we looked good, they figured we must be OK. It was often a bazar of haggling and excuses where the strike price found us making change, handing out cards and sending our new charges on over to our offices for formal intake. Sometimes, in but a few minutes, we had to step up to the plate and see what we could effectively do right then. It was no time for the bashful or reticent.

The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent and too, the not so innocent.

These were my beginnings. I loved it all.

People are all milling around in the lobby up on the 4th Floor of the Hall Of Justice just outside the entry to Court Room 4A.

Black folks, white folks, a few Hispanics, city folk, country folk, lots of babes in arms, child support, domestic disputes, misdemeanors only, missed court dates, many in arrears, more excuses and blames than Carter had Little Liver Pills.

The bailiff Eston Pressick, a tall man with a kind way, starched hard in his Forsyth County Sherriff’s brown uniform with gold trim, his sidearm prominent only for its potential significance, his big badge gaudy with its silver gleam, takes out his keys and unlocks the door and calls out,

“Oyez, Oyez. The Court for all Domestic and Family Matters is now open and in session. The Honorable James A. Harrell presiding. May God Bless these proceedings in accordance with the laws of  the State of North Carolina. Please quietly be seated.  And I mean Quietly. Take off your hats. No smoking or gum chewing.”

Fucking and Fighting Court is now open for business.

People march in, some a bit delayed while they stub smokes out, spit their gum into the ashed up pan. Most take their ball caps and straw hats off. A few have to be reminded by Pressick with a point or a nudge.

“All rise!”, calls out Pressick.

Deputy Johnny Harper, a big, square, solid man of the law steps through the doors in order to watch the assemblage from behind. Matters can get heated in here and often do.

Judge Jimmy, as he is known almost by all, sweeps in from the side door, trailed by clerks and assistants and the court reporter. Judge Jimmy’s black robes sweep in a plume behind him, tailing him as a kite. He rustles and flutters into his high backed chair and the others take their assigned places. His bench is of course higher than all other things. He looks down at the people, surveys them for no reason other than to show them he is a serious Judge and will brook no nonsense. He is big and blond, wears big gold rimmed glasses that signal further his commanding mien.

“Allright Ladies and Gentleman, we are in session. There will be no arguing between parties in here. Everyone will speak or be heard from in their own turn. I will help you do that. If any of you have a problem with that please raise your hand and stand up and I will take your name and hear from you. Those that do not stand up-well, I will take it that you have all understood my instruction.”

No one stands at first, then one skinny young fellow puts his hand up and stands slouching, a sour, dismissive look hangs over his face as a veil.

“Your name please Sir.”

The fellow’s eyes twitch.  “William Johnstone. Everybody calls me Willie. You can too.”

It is very close to a taunt.

“What’s on your mind? Are you on my docket? Do you want to argue in here?

The clerk is scanning today’s docket and quietly interjects, “Your Honor, Mr. Johnstone is on our docket. Claims against him for arrearages, charged with about $725 in back child support.”

Judge Harrell nods and looks at Mr. Johnstone.

“Do you understand my instruction Mr. Johnstone?”

“Look here Judge, that lying bitch just flat damn tricked me, told me she was on the pill, just got pregnant so she could skim my ass, AFDC, the whole tricked up shit…”

Judge Harrell slits his eyes, takes a deep breath, exhales, sighs, closes his eyes, opens them.

There is always one. Or more.

“Deputy Harper, please take this gentleman out to the hallway and try to help him understand my instruction. Either he will learn rapidly or not. If not, bring him back to me and I will hold him in contempt and jail him for three days. And I will fine him too. His conduct is not appropriate for this court room.”

Deputy Harper walks to the end Mr. Johnstone’s row and says meancingly, quietly, “You. Come with me. Now.”

All are watching, taking it all in.

Johnstone now appears to be learning that his backside is hanging by a thread over the precipice of power.

He slides over to Deputy Harper and they leave the room.

The Judge says, “All right Madame Clerk, let us get on with it. Call our cases in docket order.”

And the proceedings begin, go fast, drag on, plod. Take your pick. Accusations, eye rolling, crying, degradations, lies and more lies, finger pointing, shouting, you name it. The potential glory of sexual relations and procreation is a hate spewed dumpster fire.

The matters proceed nevertheless. The day moves on. Some of the folks have lawyers, most do not. It helps when lawyers are there. They know the rules.

The clock is pushing 11:30.

The Clerk calls the next matter.

“Johnny Dubose, please come forward and be sworn. It’s an uncontested divorce Your Honor. Mr. Dubose is represented by Mr. Eddie Terrell.

“Good Morning your Honor.”

“Good morning Mr. Terrell. I trust you are well.”

“I am your honor, thank you. I hope you are too.”

“I am, thank you. Another interesting day in paradise here. You are Mr. Dubose? Please come to the stand here and be sworn in.”

This is simple stuff, pro forma and efficiently brief. There are magic questions that have to be correctly asked and answered and presto, change-o, a legal divorce is granted.

Johnny Dubose nods in recognition and takes the stand and is sworn in.

“Mr. Terrell, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Johnny, I will now ask you a short series of questions.”

“First what is your full name?”

“John Peter Dubose.”

“How old are you?”

“Forty six hard run years.” Johnny grins at the Judge.

“Who are you married to?”

“Becky, she was a Candor but now she’s a Dubose. Time for us to be moving on.”

Judge Harrell knows he’s got a live one here.

“How old is Becky?”

“Bout forty I guess. Not good on birthdays and stuff like that.”

“Johnny, when did you marry Becky?”

“About six years ago. Went to the Justice of the Peace up in Walkertown and tied that knot. At the time I suppose we were all younger and sorta hotted up if you get my drift. I got our marriage license right here if y’all want to see it.”

Judge Harrell said, “Sure, why not…”, leaned over the bench, took receipt, looked it over, “Ok, you’re legit, so far..”

Terrell continued, “Johnny, y’all been together since then except for when y’all parted company?”

“Yup, that’s right. We started getting on each other’s nerves and then another thing happened.”

Eddie Terrell had a sense that his horse was spitting the bit. He needed to get hold of him. Hell, this was $100 deal plus court costs. No need to screw up good bar tab money.

“Ok Johnny, now please listen to me. When did you and Becky part company?”

“Oh, seems like about a year and half ago. We just were pissing each other off and things were boring.”

Judge Harrell is in the process of thinking that Angels have brought him this wild card.

“And Johnny, have you and Becky lived separate and apart since then.?

“Oh yeah. For Sure. I’ll see her every now and then in our neighborhood bar over off Waughtown, down from the Hanes factories but we’re polite to each other. Good manners count you know.Really nothing to talk about. No kids. She makes good money. And no, absolutely not, no for old times sake hanky panky. Been there, done that. Ancient history.”

Johnny seems pleased with his selective celibacy.

“Johnny, is Becky fighting you on this? Has she filed an answer with the Court contesting your seeking this divorce?”

“Lord No! She wants to rid of me just as much as I want to be done with her.”

Judge Jimmy senses there’s still the punch line out there.

So, now Johnny, this is my last question. Please tell the Court why you would ask this Court to grant you an uncontested divorce based upon what reason?”

“Well, Eddie, uh, Mr. Terrell. It’s like this. I work third shift at Reynolds. Have for as long as I can remember. Good money on that late pull. Come home in the morning, have a few beers, unwind.”

Eddie stands to draw him back in but Judge Jimmy holds his stop-sign hand up and says, “Go on.” Eddie sits down, waiting.

The courtroom has collectively leaned forward to hear what’s next.

“Well, usually, well sometimes, I’d come on home and me and Becky would have fun wrestling match. But then things changed.”

Judge Jimmy couldn’t resist. “Well Mr. Dubose, what happened?” He looked over his glasses and thought “God only knows…and he aint telling just yet.”

Terrell has conceded.

“Well Judge, it’s like this. Let me get right to nut cutting time if you don’t mind…please excuse my little word picture there.”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“Well, we have cable and I love sports and that ESPN came on as one of our new channels and I started watching it, watched it as much as I could. It was a sports buffet. Australian Rules Football, bass fishing tournaments, scores from everywhere, car races, it was great.

And sometime after that I realized that I loved ESPN and I really didn’t love my wife. And that was that.”

Johnny sat back in his chair. He was done.

Judge Harrell  said, “Johnny, Mr. Dubose, you may step down. Divorce granted. Mr. Terrell, do you have paperwork for me?”

Eddie handed it up and it was signed off on and he and Judge Harrell winked at each other. Judge Harrell was chuckling and covered his face with a file folder. “Well, kinda makes sense to me…never heard that one before…”

Eddie Terrell and Johnny Dubose walked out the doors and then held them open for Deputy Harper and Willie Johnstone to re-enter the court room.

Judge Harrell took his chin out of his hand and asked, “Deputy Harper, what do you have to report to me?”

Harper replied, “ Willie, uh, Mr. Johnstone here understands the rules now, I think Your Honor.”

“Good. I hope so. We will see. Have a seat Mr. Johnstone. We will proceed.”

The clocked pushed on toward lunch. There would be a recess soon.