...waitin' for my client's file to make it down from the local State Police Troop and then up from the Clerk's office....
In the door from the secure room with the elevator from the basement lockup comes a man...wavy, chestnut brown hair with a white, white beard about a foot long...he's not too far from being as big around as he is tall, his oversized jailhouse sweatshirt is almost snug, the khaki pants are rolled up several times to just the right length, on his feet are jail issue white socks, perhaps two pair, and heavyweight shower sandals. The Public Defender steps forward.
PD: Your Honor may recall this case from last week....
Judge: I do....
PD: He still won't speak to me...I've tried talking to him...I know no more about him and if he qualifies for our services than I did last week....
Judge: Sir...I need you to talk to the public defender so we can deal with your matter....
Man: [Speaks so loudly in a room where people speak awfully loud to start that what he says is not rememberable.]
Judge: I can hear you. You needn't speaks so loud, but I need you to speak to the public defender.
Man: [less loudly, but still loud even by the standard of the room] You do what you got to do.
Judge: O.K. Thank you.
Public Defender asks to be appointed [and is], for the man to be shrunk, and for a next date of the 24th. State's Attorney does not object. On his way out of the courtroom through the door, the man raises his right arm above his head and waves bye-bye to the Judge.
I'm sitting between the Family Violence lady from Family Support Services and a new woman, whose function I had not yet determined and still haven't...the Alternative Incarceration Center lady [a very accomplished artist in her real job] leans over to us.
AIC lady: Guess what he's in for.
Puzzled looks all around
AIC lady: Smoking inside Dunkin Donuts.
Door to the secure elevator room shuts.
true story....
