On January 24, 2013, I got pulled over for a seatbelt
violation. Also, I didn't have a current insurance card at the time, so I
incurred two tickets, totalling $250 or roundabouts. My traffic court date was
scheduled for 2/28/13, 5:30pm.
Read more ...
I went to the courthouse here in lovely Hampton county, but
every door I came to was locked. After two trips around the building, I began
to pound on every door until I got someone to come let me in. A sheriff's
deputy answers one of the back doors, and I tell him that I have traffic court
that day.
He says, no way, "Traffic court is on Mondays
only." Well, holy shit, I show him my two tickets, and he verifies that,
sure enough, I ain't blind or illiterate like everyone else in this goddamn
town, my tickets are both marked for today's date, at what was at that time
5:30pm.
He ushers me inside, with the plan to help me figure this
out. I'm standing in the hallway while he's "looking it up," when he
pokes his head out into the hallway and asks me if I'm "Gregory
Fancher." Yep, since day one.
"It says here that your court date was set for January
28; and since you didn't make it, there's an active bench warrant for your
arrest." Oh, wait ... "Technically, I should go ahead and arrest
you." Wait for it ... "But, I can't do that in good conscience, since
there's clearly been some mistake." Not yet ... "So, you need to get
here tomorrow as soon as the offices open up so you can get this fixed."
Not yet ... "Now, the thing is, until you can get in tomorrow, this warrant
is a standing warrant, and what that means is that, if you get pulled over and
the officer runs your license and tags, you could be arrested on the
spot." And BOOM! goes the dynamite.
My ass not showing up on the court date that apparently
everyone but me knew about, and not subsequently paying the $250 (only $25 of
which is really mine to cover) put me in gross contempt of court. This whole
month - 1/28 to 2/28 - I've been "wanted," and, had I been pulled
over at any point (and, should I venture from this house, I still have until
8:30am) I would be arrested for violating my summons to court.
How far under the speed limit do you think I've driven
between the clinic, campus, and back home, covering all told an hour on the
road? I'll tell you: EXACTLY 5 mph under every speed limit I've encountered.
UPDATE: That was
February 28, 2013. One thing I left out,
meaningless as it was at the time, was that, when I first happened upon the
Town Hall (which I referenced as “the courthouse” above), upon finding all the
doors locked, I assumed that I had gotten my location wrong and traffic court
was at the actual courthouse located across the street.
I drove the block over, and tried the first door I came
to. Locked. This was the backdoor, anyway, so I figured I’d
have better luck at the front door.
Drove around, walked up to the first door I came to, and before I could
really try it, I saw a sign that said, “USE MAIN ENTRANCE.” So, I gave the side door a quick tug anyway
(locked), and wandered over to the main door.
The door on the right side wouldn’t opened, but the door to my left
popped open quite easily. I walked in,
and I noticed that the place was dark and no one was manning the metal detector
(on the right side of the entrance). I
look at both doors, and I saw no hours of operation posted, so I figured that
traffic court was being held somewhere else in the building and I’d meet up
with people there.
I walked around the first floor, to find no one. Thought about walking up the stairs, but
after circling two buildings and hoofing it across the front lawns of these
municipal buildings, I figured I’d pamper myself and ride the elevator to the
second floor. Once in the elevator, I
took a brief pause to stretch my muscles and gather my thoughts. I lift my head and noticed that the ceiling
of the elevator was mirrored. I stared
up, intensely, and I noticed my age making its presence known on my face. And I looked stern, disgusted, and, given
that I had to postpone my class Thursday night by 30 minutes thanks to traffic
court, a bit disturbed. Elevator opened,
and I shook off all that bad voodoo and commenced my search for traffic
court. Figured I’d kill some unnecessary
effort and blurted out a curt “Hello?”
“Hello?” was the answer.
Not an echo; a woman’s voice.
Hallelujah!
I met her at her office, and I explained my plight. She set me straight, explaining that traffic
court is held at the Town Hall (where I just was). I huffed out a bit of inconvenience, but I
thanked her and she walked with me back to the front door. She asked me how I got in, and I told her I
just … opened the door and walked right in.
She chuckled and said something like, “That’s not supposed to happen,”
asked me if I saw anyone else, which I hadn’t, and she shut the door behind
me. I gave it another try to see if it
would open again, and it didn’t, so we gave each other the thumbs-up and I
left, to meet the officer who explained that I had a warrant, which finished
the saga above.
Dateline: Friday, March 1 2013
I basically woke up, dressed for work, drove to Town Hall,
and sat at the doors until they opened.
When they did, I was first in the door with my tickets, proof of
insurance, et cetera. Everything got
taken care of as expected, and I was informed that, given the circumstances,
the warrant was dropped. All that
remained was my $25 seatbelt violation.
I could only pay in cash or money order, neither of which I had, and
given that I had a full schedule of clients at the clinic, I wouldn’t have
these payments until about 3:00p. But at
3:00p, I could put this crap behind me.
3:00p. I paid my $25,
and when I finished, I was informed that “Deputy Sherriff Murphy Winn” has
requested audience with me. First
thought, “The hell for?” but, eh, no telling.
Working for mental health, you get all kinds of people wanting to talk
to you about some of the craziest of shit, once they find out you rep mental
health. And a lot of clients are in dire
legal straits, so I figured it was something that was going to make my Friday
longer than a Friday needs to be.
I got to the courthouse and walked in the front door of
preference – I learned something from last night – and was immediately greeted
by three men with heavy tools working on the door. I blurted out, “Yeah, I was the one who discovered
this was broken last night,” referencing the door. The officer manning the metal detector pipes
up, “Are you the one who got in the building last night?” Yes, that’s me. “Winn’s wanting to see you.” Gotcha, and that’s what I’m here for. I do the pat down, the metal detector, get “wanded”
and then, another officer ushers me into an office where he takes my name,
address, social, date of birth, phone number, cell number, place of work, work
address, work phone number, make and model of vehicle … tons of info. I had no reason not to give it to them, so I
did; I’m cooperative. Once that was
done, they said Winn was not in the building, so they would call me at work to
have me come back when he gets in. Oh no
no no, if it was all the same to them, I’d just hang out until he comes back; I
don’t sit well beneath the sword of Damocles, so I’ll sit tight and wait. They end up having to radio Winn in, so he
could talk to me.
Winn arrives, and he ushers me back to the office where I
had just given my info. He then
instructs me that, “for now,” I’m not under arrest. However, if I start talking about something
he don’t like hearing, he shows me a paper listing my Miranda rights and says
that he’ll make sure I’m informed of those.
He then tells me that I can ask for an attorney at any time, and he’ll
stop any questions from that point on.
Again, I did nothing wrong, and while I was perfectly content to get up
and leave, I figured, eh, why not see where this goes?
What followed was about forty-five minutes of Bad Cop Dinner
Theater, and tonight, playing the role of Bad Cop (and pretty badly) would be
Chief Winn. I was grilled about how I
got in the door, why I came in the building, what business I had in the
building, why I didn’t leave at any point once I came in, and why didn’t “common
sense” tell me that the building was closed and that I had no business being in
there in the first place.
I contended the following: I had a summons to a court
proceeding; the building I was advised to attend was locked up, so I assumed
that I was at the wrong location; I went to the appropriate doors that were
indicated as appropriate entrances, I opened the door and went in, and while it
struck me as odd that I didn’t encounter anyone at first, (I explained) I’ve
been in some extremely rural locations, so it wasn’t immediately disconcerting
to me to not see anyone at their posts, because if the courthouse (rural as it
is) was possibly understaffed, I would find someone eventually that would walk
me through proper process and procedure … it was just a matter of finding
them. Remember, during the time that I
was in the courthouse, I was under the legitimate assumption that I was
supposed to be there, based on a summons from the same police department that
Winn supervises; that I opened a door (unlocked, but deemed later to be faulty
and in need of repair); and, that I saw no hours of operation on any of the
doors that I had encountered during my travels the day prior.
He proceeds to question me, and it occurs to me that he is
interviewing me with a legit (questionably legit) expectation that he’s going
to arrest me for … trespassing? (Nope,
his exact interpretation of my behavior was “breaking and entering.”) There were two points – minus his opening
introduction to the fun we were about to embark on for almost an hour – where his
body language and careful choice of words seemed indicative of an intent to
take me into custody … EVEN THOUGH I never faltered from my story, as it
pertained to my reason for being in the courthouse, as well as my reasoning
process behind why I went down two hallways, up to the second floor, and down
another hallway looking for the traffic court.
He made an odd analogy, during his repeated references to
the application of “common sense” (which was admittedly the part of the process
which was having the effect of pissing me off the most). The analogy was, “If you knew someone, and
they were of the habit of leaving their door open, would you just go ahead and
walk into their house?” My reply: “If
that someone had sent me a written invitation, saying that at a certain date,
at a certain time, to be at their house, and I walked up to the door and it was
open, I would assume they were expecting me, and yes, I’d walk right in.” This threw Winn for a loop, but undeterred,
he went in with his point; “You would?
Well, if you did that to my house … (pause for effect) … son, you’d be
dead.” My reply: “Well, sir, if you had
sent me a written invitation to come to your house, at a certain date, at a
certain time, and I got there, and the door was open, and I walked in and ended
up dead … (pause for effect) … it seems that the law would call that
premeditated murder.”
I had to continuously reference the fact that there were no
office hours posted, the door was open, and I was under a fair amount of
stress, given that I don’t get traffic summons very often at all, and I had
received NONE from Hampton county for the period of time I had resided
here. So, my contention was that I didn’t
know where to go, just that my mind was fixated on, “Where’s traffic
court? Where’s traffic court? My court time is 5:30, it’s 5:15 now. Where’s traffic court?”
That’s when I got to see video evidence of my wandering
through the courthouse. It was narrated
by Chief Winn, and the narration mainly consisted of, “See, the minute you walk
in here, you shoulda know to turn right around and leave … see, you’re here
going down a hall you GOT NO BUSINESS
GOING DOWN! … See …” and so forth. Then
I watch me get on the elevator.
I watch me, staring back at me, upside down, but all the
consternation, frustration, irritability is a palpable entity written across my
visage. I looked, in a word, kinda
crazy. The assumption was there, on my
own part, that I looked like I was going to hurt someone.
Then I see myself get out of the elevator, lean to peek down
one hall, peek down another, and MOONWALK down the hall until I reach that one
hallway, DO THE ROBOT around to face down the hallway, and I hear me call out, “Hello?” And the rest was already history I had lived.
I sighed. “I can see
why you guys might have been worried.”
Winn was dead silent.
“Wow.” I said,
getting comfortable in my chair again. “You
look really intense.”
He remained quiet.
I explained, in no uncertain terms, that my intention was
not to come across like an asshole. I
was of a certain mindset, and all the circumstances that I had encountered had
lead me to walk into an open public building … that I assumed was the location
I was supposed to be … that I assumed was open because of the reason that I was
assuming I was supposed to be there … and I had to find someone that ultimately
pointed me to the appropriate location.
It was a perfect storm of events that appeared to be very
unfortunate. But, I added, if anyone was
going to find out that the door was unlocked and broken, better it be someone
like me instead of someone with a mad-on for the courthouse and all its
employees.
Winn acknowledged this part, but then he stated that “I just
don’t buy part of your story.” Which ate
at me enough that I asked him exactly what part of my story didn’t he buy? In other words, what could I have possibly
been in the courthouse to do, illegally, that I didn’t do when I was in there
last night? He proceeds to explain,
laboriously, his main talking points: “Not supposed to be in here after 5:00 …
should have walked out when I saw the front lights were off and no one was at
the metal detector … shouldn’t have walked down the halls …” Et cetera.
I was quiet for a while.
He was quiet. I finally looked up
and offered, “I’m sorry?” He looked
puzzled. I followed up with, “That’s the
only thing I know that’s left to say.”
He expresses that he’s going to let me go, but “we have your
information and we know where to get hold of you, in case we need to follow up
on this. And if there’s anything more to
come of this, and I think there’s just cause, I’ll be back to take you into
custody, and I will tell your supervisor.”
(Why not threaten to call my parents, while you’re at it?)
I told him, all joking aside, that I appreciated him talking
to me; after all, he could have just arrested me based on his observations and
inclinations, but he talked to me and gave me an opportunity to set this
situation straight, instead of having to go through all the hassle and
unfortunate circumstances that would have to have occurred were I arrested
based on the situation as it was. “Besides,”
I emphasized, “owning an entire town would be too big a responsibility for me
to take.”
I’m like school on Saturday: No class.
1 comment:
Great stuff Nate, the man loves to bring you down in any way possible.
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